CHAPTER XVI
A LITTLE TRUNK
It was a journey of only a few hours to the dock where the party were totake ship, the sailing being set for early afternoon. Before it seemedpossible they had left the train and were being conveyed by motor to thepier. It was at the first whiff of salt-water fragrance that Georgianafelt a sudden onset of dread of the sailing of the great ship. And whenshe caught sight of the four black funnels rising above the mass ofsmaller smokestacks and masts and spars which lifted beyond the dingybuildings of the pier, she experienced an unexpected and disconcertinglonging to run away--back to her home.
Her father's face rose before her as she had seen it that morning, paleand worn, the inner brightness of the undaunted spirit shining throughthe thinnest of veils. What if anything should happen to that belovedface, so that she should never set eyes on it again? The thought shookher with a throb of pain.
They were on the pier, they were ascending the gangway, they were on oneof the lower decks and entering the elevator which was to lift thempast many intermediate decks to that one, next the highest of all, wheretheir quarters lay. And when they came out upon that upper deckGeorgiana was dimly conscious that they were a party to attractattention, even among many people evidently of the same class. Any partyto which Aunt Olivia and Jeannette belonged, she felt, must necessarilyexpect to be noticed. Of her own contribution to the party's distinctionshe was entirely unaware.
But now that she was actually on shipboard, where during the lastfortnight she had so many times imagined herself, Georgiana found to herdistress that she could not for a moment banish the thought, the imageitself, of that gentle, suffering face at home. Not that she wanted toforget it--not that; but she did want, now that her decision was made,to be able to appreciate what a happy occasion it was and how fortunatethe circumstances which had brought about her presence here, the lastplace in the world she had expected ever to be in.
She entered the stateroom which she was to share with her cousins, andwas amazed at the size and comfort of it. It was half filled withflowers and baskets of fruit and other offerings sent for the girls,with two boxes addressed to herself. Both Stuart and Mr. Jefferson hadsent her flowers. As she examined them a hurried steward appeared witha third box, which proved to be also for her--a small box, which hadcome not from a city florist, like the others, but by mail.
It had been put up by unskilled hands, as its crushed shape and dampexterior clearly showed. She opened it, wondering, and found a littlebunch of garden flowers, sadly wilted, their limp stems protruding fromthe moistened newspaper in which they were wrapped. She searched for acard, and found it. In a hand she knew well, a little cramped, a littlewavering, but full of character, she read these words: "Blessing her,praying for her, loving her."
Georgiana's heart gave a great leap of fear. What were those lines, whatthe context? She knew them--knew them well. She had never heard herfather quote them, and never read with him the lines from which theycame. Did he know them, use them with intent, not imagining she wouldplace them? As she well remembered, they were from "Enoch Arden," andshe had spoken them herself, in a dramatized version of that patheticpoem, the last winter of her college life. And they ran thus:
When you shall see her, tell her that I died Blessing her, praying for her, loving her.
At the moment she was alone in the stateroom, the two girls having beenan instant before summoned by their brother to meet some friends whohad come on board to see them off. She stood staring at the touchinglittle bunch of faded bloom, knowing just how tender had been thethought of her which had prompted the effort. It had not occurred to Mr.Warne that there was any other way of sending flowers to ships than bymailing them from one's own garden. As for the words, she knew wellenough that he had not dreamed of disturbing her content by quotingthem, yet--she could but feel that the reason why they came to his mindwhen he was searching there for a bit of tender sentiment to send withhis parting gift was the thought of his own possible end being not faraway. And if he, too, were thinking of that----
With a fast-beating heart Georgiana stood staring out of the openporthole at the scene of activity outside. Far below her she could seethe gangway over which she had come on board. In less than an hour--theparty had arrived early--that gangway would be withdrawn, the waterwould slowly widen between pier and ship, and there would be no turningback. Could she go--could she bear to go--and take the chance? Were herfears only the natural forebodings of the unaccustomed traveler, or wasthere a real reason why she should never have allowed herself to bepersuaded to leave one whose hold on life was so frail, the only beingin the world to whom she was closely bound? She closed her eyes andtried to think....
Mrs. Thomas Crofton, turning from a group of friends at the touch of herniece's hand upon hers, would have drawn the girl into the circle andpresented her with genuine pride in her, but the low voice in her eardeterred her:
"Aunt Olivia, please forgive me, but I must ask you to come away with mejust for five minutes. Please----"
In a temporarily forsaken angle of the deck Georgiana laid her casebefore her aunt, speaking with rapid, shaken words, but none the lessdeterminedly. Mrs. Crofton listened with an astonished face and withlips which protested even before they had the chance to speak.
"I know just how dreadful it will seem to you all--that I shouldn't haveknown my duty long ago. But I see it now--oh, so plainly! And it's notonly my duty, it's my love that takes me back. I can't stop to tell youhow I feel about leaving you all when you've been so kind, so wonderfulto me. I can tell you that another time. But the thing now for me is toget off this ship before it sails. I must!"
"But, Georgiana, my dear child----"
"Oh, please don't try to keep me, Aunt Olivia! My mind is made up. Ican't tell you how it hurts to do it, but I don't dare to leave myfather. If anything happened to him I could never forgivemyself--never. He isn't well. It would do no good to take me with younow. I should be so miserable I should spoil it all for you."
"Georgiana, listen." The calmly poised woman of the world held theclinging hand in a firm, warm grasp, the low voice spoke evenly. "Manypeople feel just as you do, dear, on the eve of sailing. Some are madeactually ill, even quite old travelers. But they know that it is purehysteria and they fight it off, and afterward they are able to laugh attheir fears. My dear, you are quite mistaken about there being anydanger threatening your father. He is in the best of hands, and hehimself would be sadly disappointed----"
It was of no use. Mrs. Crofton took her niece to her stateroom, and,sending for Jeannette and Rosalie, even for Uncle Thomas, tried in vainto shake her.
Ten minutes before the hour of sailing, Rosalie, rushing about the deckin search of Miles Channing, finally discovered him and burst out underher breath with the appalling news:
"Georgiana's going back! She's got the idea somehow that her fathermayn't live till she comes home. We can't do a thing with her. Oh, docome and see if you can't show her how absurd it is to do such a thing!"
"Going back!" Miles Channing seized Rosalie's arm. "Where is she? Why,she can't go back; the ship's all but casting off. What on earth is thematter with her? She's too sensible a girl to lose her head at the lastminute. Good heavens! We won't let her go; we'll keep her in herstateroom till it's too late. Take me there--quick!"
They dashed along the narrow passageways, until, coming from theCroftons' suite, they encountered Georgiana pale but quiet, Jeannetteflushed scarlet and in tears, and Mrs. Crofton evidently sorelyexasperated, but keeping herself well in hand.
Channing walked straight up to Georgiana. "Will you give me fiveminutes?" he asked.
She shook her head with a faint smile. "It's no use, Mr. Channing. Ishall not change my mind again. I should have known it in the firstplace, and there mayn't be five minutes to spare. I must be in sight ofthe gangway."
"I'll take you there," he said, and glanced at the others in a way whichclearly said: "Give me my chance." They understood and let him leadGeorgi
ana on ahead toward the place she sought.
He was a clever man and an experienced one in the ways of women, eventhough his years among them were not yet many. He realized that argumentwas of little use; there was only one weapon left with which to fightthe girl's determination, and it was one he was not loath to use, thoughhe had not meant to speak so plainly until quite different surroundingsinvited.
"This is a hard blow to my hopes," he said very low, as they stood wherethey could watch the manoeuvres of the officers and men who were incharge of the embarkation of passengers. "I can't tell you what thisvoyage with you has meant to me; I don't know how to give it up. Now,please listen. Won't you do this? Come across with us, and then, whenyou are actually over--it's only a five-day crossing, you know--if youstill feel you must go back, we'll not try to prevent you. You'll beaway then only a fortnight, and nothing in the world can go wrong atyour home in that little time. And meanwhile we shall have had thisvoyage together--Georgiana?"
His voice with its meaning inflections would have been very hard toresist, if the girl had not by now set her teeth upon her determination.Having suffered already so much humiliation for the sake of her suddenconviction, her pride would not have let her change again, though avoice from the skies had then and there assured her that all was andwould be well with her father. So once more she shook her head and movedtoward the gangway. Behind her, ready to follow her if must be, adeckhand waited with her luggage. The Croftons, their faces showing muchconcern, had remained in the background waiting for a signal fromChanning that he had or had not prevailed.
"If you go ashore," threatened Channing, "I shall go with you. And theship will sail without me."
This roused her to speech. "No, no; don't even say such a thing--just tofrighten me. Good-bye, Mr. Channing, and--I'm truly very, very sorry."
"I mean it," he urged hotly. "The whole thing is nothing to me withoutyou; you know that perfectly well."
"I should never forgive you," she said, turning to look once into hiseyes, as if to convince him of the reality of her prohibition; and hesaw there all the spirit he had reckoned with, and saw, too, such aworld of possibilities for one who could arouse that intense andpurposeful nature, that he was swept off his feet.
"But you will forgive me if I come back by the next ship," he saidquickly.
"No. Not if you come a day sooner than you intended."
Once more their glances met, like blows; then Georgiana moved rapidlytoward the gangway, where the sailor in charge was beckoning. TheCroftons, one and all, hurried forward, and the retreating travelersuffered their embraces.
"My child, you are forcing us to leave you here alone to look afteryourself, after our promising to take every care of you," mourned Mrs.Crofton. "I shall be most uneasy about you."
"No, no, dear Aunt Olivia, you mustn't be. I am a perfectly independentperson, and I can take myself home without a particle of trouble.Good-bye--and please, please forgive me, all of you!"
She was off at last, with Jeannette's hot tears on her cheek, Rosalie'sreproachful and all but angry final speech, "I didn't think you'dactually do it, Georgiana Warne!" ringing in her ears; and Chester'sexplosive, derisive prediction following her, "By thunder, but you'll bea sorry girl when it's too late. I can tell you that!"--to make her feelthat nobody really understood or sympathized with her.
It was Uncle Thomas who applied the one touch of balm to his niece'ssore heart:
"David Warne is a rich man, my dear girl, to have you," he said gently,as he kissed her. "Don't feel too badly over disappointing us; it's allright. Take good care of yourself going home, and give my love to yourfather."
She smiled bravely back at him as she ran down the gangway with half ascore of belated visitors to the ship. In a moment she was only one ofthe crowd of people who were watching the huge bulk of the liner drawalmost imperceptibly away from the pier. Through blurred vision shelooked up to the spot where they were all waving at her andsmiling--thank heaven, they were smiling, as it was obviously theirduty to do, no matter what their feelings.
When their faces had become indistinguishable, and the great ship hadbacked far out into the waters, and was headed toward the Atlantic,Georgiana turned to a porter at her elbow. "No," she said, "I didn'tsail. Yes, this trunk is mine; it's to go back."
Somehow, as she followed the man through the long, dingy building, thething which drove home the ache in her heart was the sight of thelittle, aristocratic-looking, leather-covered steamer trunk, UncleThomas's gift, packed with so many high hopes, now riding alone on agreat truck. Of all the baggage which that truck had borne to the ladingof the ship, hers was the only little, lonely piece to come back!
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