Nedra Part 15

"I--I don't believe I am," she said. "My heel caught on a step and I fell. It was so clumsy of me. I might have been badly hurt if you had not caught me as you did."

"These steps are so uncertain," he said, scowling at them. "Somebody'll get hurt here some day. But, really, are you quite sure you are, not hurt? Didn't you twist your--your--"

"Ankle? Not in the least. See! I can stand on both of them. I am not hurt at all. Let me thank you," she said, smiling into his eyes as she moved away.

"May I a.s.sist you?" he asked eagerly.

"Oh, no; I thank you, Mr. Veath. I would not have my preserver perform the office of a crutch. I am not hurt in the least. Good-afternoon."

Hugh, disconcerted and piqued by her confusion of names, answered her wondrous smile with one that reflected bewildered admiration, and finally managed to send after her:

"I wouldn't have lost the opportunity for the world."

That evening he was sitting out on deck in contemplative silence enjoying his after-dinner smoke. Farther down were Grace and Veath.

Suddenly turning in their direction, Hugh perceived that they were not there; nor were they anywhere in sight. He was pondering over their whereabouts, his eyes still on the vacant chairs, when a voice tender and musical a.s.sailed his ears--a voice which he had heard but once before.

"Good-evening, Mr. Veath."

He wheeled about and found himself staring at the smiling face of the young lady who had fallen into his arms but a few hours before.

"Good-evening," he stammered, amazed by her unexpected greeting.

"Have--have you fully recovered from your fall?"

"I was quite over it in a moment or two. I wanted to ask you if you were hurt by the force with which I fell against you." She stood with one hand upon the rail, quite close to him, the moonlight playing upon her upturned face. He never had seen a more perfect picture of airy grace and beauty in his life.

"Why mention an impossibility? You could not have hurt me in a fall ten times as great."

His tall figure straightened and his eyes gleamed chivalrously. The young woman's dark, mysterious eyes swept over him for a second, resting at last upon those which looked admiringly into them from above.

She made a movement as if to pa.s.s on, gravely smiling a farewell.

"I beg your pardon," he said hastily. "You called me Mr. Veath a moment ago. It may be of no consequence to you, yet I should like to tell you that my name is Ridge--Hugh Ridge."

"It is my place to beg forgiveness. But I understood your name was Veath, and that you were--were"--here she smiled tantalizingly--"in love with the beautiful American, Miss Ridge."

"The dev--d.i.c.k--I mean, the mischief you did! Well, of all the fool conclusions I've ever heard, that is the worst. In love with my sister!

Ho, ho!" He laughed rather too boisterously.

"But there is a Mr. Veath on board, is there not?--a friend?"

"A Mr. Henry Veath going into the American Revenue Service at Manila."

"How stupid of me! However, I am positive that I was told it was Mr.

Veath who was in love with Miss Ridge."

"But he isn't," hastily cried Hugh, turning hot and cold by turns. "He's just a friend. She--she is to marry another chap." Here he gulped painfully. "But please don't breathe it to a soul. She'd hate me forever. Can I trust you?" To himself, he was saying: "I am making a devil of a mess of this elopement."

"This is a very large world, Mr. Ridge, and this voyage is a mere trifle in time. When we leave the s.h.i.+p we may be parting forever, so her secret would be safe, even though I shrieked it all over the East. You will return to America before long, I presume?"

"I'm sure I don't know. We may stay a year or no."

"Then the wedding is not a thing of the immediate future?"

"Oh, yes--that is, I mean, certainly not."

"Pardon me for asking so many questions. It is very rude of me." She said it so penitently that Hugh, unable to find words, could only wave his hands in deprecation. "Isn't it a perfect evening?" she went on, turning to the sea. The light breeze blew the straying raven hair away from her temples, leaving the face clearly chiselled out of the night's inkiness. Hugh's heart thumped strangely as he noted her evident intention to remain on deck. She turned to him swiftly and he averted his eyes, but not quickly enough to prevent her seeing that he had been scrutinizing her intently. What she may have intended to say was never uttered. Instead, she observed, a trifle coldly:

"I must bid you good-night, Mr. Ridge."

"Pray, not yet," he cried; "I was just about to ask if we might not sit in these chairs here for a little while. It is early and it is so charming to-night." He looked into her eyes again and found that she was gazing searchingly into his. A light smile broke into life and she seemed to be satisfied with the momentary a.n.a.lysis of the man before her.

"It does seem silly to stay below on a night like this. Shall we sit here?" She indicated two vacant chairs well forward. The young lady scorned a steamer rug, so he sat beside her, conscious that, despite her charming presence, he was beginning to feel the air keenly. But he could not admit it to this slight Englishwoman.

For half an hour or more they sat there, finding conversation easy, strangely interesting to two persons who had nothing whatsoever in common. He was charmed, delighted with this vivacious girl. And yet something mournful seemed to shade the brilliant face now and then. It did not come and go, moreover, for the frank, open beauty was always the same; it was revealed to him only at intervals. Perhaps he saw it in her dark, tender eyes--he could not tell. He saw Henry Veath pacing the deck, smoking and--alone. Hugh's heart swelled gladly and he spoke quite cheerily to Veath as that gentleman sauntered past.

"Now, that is Mr. Veath, isn't it?" demanded his fair companion.

"Yes; do you think we should be mistaken for each other?"

"Oh, dear, no, now that I know you apart. You are utterly unlike, except in height. How broad he is! Hasn't he a wonderful back?" she cried, admiring the tall, straight figure of the walker.

"He got that on the farm."

"It is worth a farm to have shoulders like his, I should say. You must introduce Mr. Veath to me."

Hugh looked at the moon very thoughtfully for a few moments and then, as if remembering, said that he would be happy to do so, and was sure that Veath would be even happier.

At this moment the tall, lank form of Lord Huntingford approached. He was peering intently at the people in the chairs as he pa.s.sed them, plainly searching for some one.

"There is Lord Huntingford looking for you," said Hugh, rising. He saw a trace of annoyance in her face as she also arose. "I overheard him telling the captain that Lady Huntingford--your mother--plays a miserable game of crib."

She started and turned sharply upon him.

"My mother, Mr. Ridge?" she said slowly.

"Yes; your father was guying Captain Shadburn about his game, you know."

The look of wonder in her eyes increased; she pa.s.sed her hand across her brow and then through her hair in evident perplexity, all the while staring at his face. There was a tinge of suspicion in her voice when she spoke.

"Mr. Ridge, don't you know?"

"Know what?"

"You surely know that I am not Lord Huntingford's--"

"You don't mean to say that you are not his daughter," gasped Hugh, dubious as to her meaning.

"I am Lady Huntingford."

"His wife?"