Late as it was, I went up on deck, and it was lucky for me I did so, for I met our bluff old captain, who, when he learned of the disablement of my arm, said genially that he had a Cape Cod liniment good for man or donkey, and I was welcome to it in either capacity. He ordered me down to my stateroom, and followed later with the bottle. His own gnarled hands rubbed the pungent-smelling stuff on my arm, and he told me I’d be next to all right in the morning, which prophecy came true.

I am sorry that in these voyages to and from Corea we met absolutely no adventures, picked up no shipwrecked crew, and met no cyclone, so I am unable to write down any of those vivid descriptions that I have always admired in Mr. Clark Russell.

Next morning was heavenly in its beauty and its calm. Nagasaki was the last civilized address which would receive telegrams, letters or papers for Mr. Hemster, and the old gentleman was anxious to reach there as soon as possible. As I have remarked before, he was constantly yearning for a daily paper. The captain informed me that he had engaged a “heathen Chinee” as pilot, and so was striking direct from Chemulpo to Nagasaki, letting the islands take care of themselves, as he remarked.

I walked the deck, watching eagerly for the coming of Hilda Stretton, but instead there arrived Gertrude Hemster, bright, smiling, and beautiful. I was just now regretting lack of opportunity to indulge in Clark-Russellism, yet here was a chance for a descriptive writer which proved quite beyond my powers. The costume of Miss Hemster was bewildering in its Parisian completeness. That girl must have had a storehouse of expensive gowns aboard the yacht. I suppose this was what a writer in a lady’s paper would call a confection, or a creation, or something of that sort; but so far as I am concerned you might as well expect an elucidation of higher mathematics as an adequate delineation of that sumptuous gown. All I can say is that the tout ensemble was perfect, and the girl herself was radiant in her loveliness. She approached me with a winning smile like that of an angel.

“I want you to know how I appreciate your bravery. I shall never forget,—no, not if I live to be a thousand years old,—how grand and noble you looked standing up alone against that horde of savages. I was just telling Poppa that the very first reporter he meets, he must give a glowing account to him of your heroism.”

I have always noted that when Miss Hemster was in extreme good humour she referred to the old gentleman as Poppa; on other occasions she called him Father. The project of giving away my adventures to the newspapers did not in the least commend itself to me.

“Good-morning, Miss Hemster,” I said, “I am extremely pleased to see you looking so well after a somewhat arduous day.”

“It was rather a trying time, wasn’t it?” she replied sweetly, “and if I look well it’s because of the dress, I think. How do you like it?” and she stepped back with a sweeping curtesy that would have done credit to an actress, and took up an attitude that displayed her drapery to the very best advantage.

“It is heavenly,” I said; “never in my life have I seen anything to compare with it,—or with the wearer,” I added.

“How sweet of you to say that!” she murmured, looking up at me archly, with a winning, bird-like movement. A glorified bird-of-paradise she seemed, and there was no denying it. With a touching pathetic note in her voice she continued,—very humbly, if one might judge,—“You haven’t been a bit nice to me lately. I have wondered why you were so unkind.”

“Believe me, Miss Hemster,” I said, “I have not intended to be unkind, and I am very sorry if I have appeared so. You must remember we have been thrown into very trying circumstances, and as I was probably better acquainted with the conditions than any one of our party I always endeavoured to give the best advice I could, which sometimes, alas, ran counter to your own wishes. It seemed to me now and then you did not quite appreciate the danger which threatened us, and you also appeared to have a distrust of me, which, I may tell you, was entirely unfounded.”

“Of course it was,” she cried contritely, “but nevertheless I always had the utmost confidence in you, although you see I’m so impulsive that I always say the first thing that comes into my head, and that gives people a wrong idea about me. You take everything so seriously and make no allowances. I think at heart you’re a very hard man.”

“Oh, I hope not.”

“Yes, you are. You have numerous little rules, and you measure everybody by them. I seem to feel that you are mentally sizing me up, and that makes me say horrid things.”

“If that is the case, I must try to improve my character.”

“Oh, I’m not blaming you at all, only telling you the way it strikes me. Perhaps I’m altogether wrong. Very likely I am, and anyhow I don’t suppose it does any good to talk of these things. By the way, how is your arm this morning?”

“It is all right, thank you. The captain’s liniment has been magical in its effect. It was very stupid of me to get my arm in such a condition, and there is less excuse because I used to be a first-rate cricket bowler; but somehow yesterday I got so interested in the game that I forgot about my muscles.”

“Is it true that the Empress has been murdered?”

“Yes, I had the news from the British Consul, and I have no doubt of its accuracy.”

“How perfectly awful to think that only the day before yesterday we saw her sitting there like a graven image; indeed she scarcely seemed alive even then. What in the world did they kill the poor woman for?”

“I do not know,” I replied, although I had strong suspicions regarding the cause of her fate. The next statement by Miss Hemster astonished me.

“Well, it served her right. A woman in that position should assert herself. She sat there like a Chinese doll that had gone to sleep. If she had made them stand around they would have had more respect for her. Any woman owes it to her sex to make the world respect her. Think of a sleepy creature like that holding the position of Empress, and yet making less than nothing of it.”

“You must remember, Miss Hemster, that the status of woman in Corea is vastly different from her position in the United States.”

“Well, and whose fault is that? It is the fault of the women. We demand our rights in the States, and get them. If this creature at Seoul had been of any use in the world she would have revolutionized the status of women,—at least within the bounds of her own kingdom.”

I ventured to remark that Oriental ideas of women were of a low order, and that, as the women themselves were educated to accept this state of things, nothing much should be expected of them.

“Oh, nonsense!” cried Miss Hemster strenuously; “look at the Empress of China. She makes people stand around. Then there was Catherine of Russia, and goodness knows Russia’s far enough behind in its ideas! But Catherine didn’t mind that; she just walked in, and made herself feared by the whole world. A few more women like that in the Orient would bring these heathen people to their senses. It serves this Corean Queen right when you think of the opportunity she had, and the way she misused it, sitting there like a great lump of dough strung around with jewels she could not appreciate, like a wax figure in a ten-cent show. I have no patience with such animals.”

I thought this judgment of Miss Hemster’s rather harsh, but experience had taught me not to be rash in expressing my opinion; so we conversed amicably about many things until the gong rang for luncheon. I must say that hers was a most attractive personality when she exerted herself to please. At luncheon she was the life of the party, making the captain laugh outrageously, and even bringing a smile now and then to her father’s grave face, although it seemed to me he watched her furtively under his shaggy eyebrows now and then as if apprehensive that this mood might not last,—somewhat fearful, I imagine, regarding what might follow. I could not help noticing that there was a subtle change in the old gentleman’s attitude toward his daughter, and I fancied that her exuberant spirits were perhaps forced to the front, to counteract in a measure this new attitude. I thought I detected now and then a false note in her hilarity, but perhaps that may have been a delusion of my imagination, such as it is. After the captain had gone, toward the end of the meal, her father seemed to be endeavouring silently to attract her attention; but she rattled on in almost breathless haste, talking flippantly to Miss Stretton and myself alternately, and never once looking toward the head of the table. I surmised that there was something beneath all this with which I was not acquainted, and that there was going on before me a silent contest of two wills, the latent determination of the father opposed to the unconcealed stubbornness of the daughter. I sympathized with the old man, because I was myself engaged in a mental endeavour to cause Hilda Stretton to look across at me, but hitherto without success. Not a single glance had I received during the meal. At last the old gentleman rose, and stood hesitating, as if he wished to make a plunge; then, finally, he interrupted the rattle of conversation by saying:

“Gertrude, I wish to have a few words with you in my office.”

“All right, Poppa, I’ll be there in a minute,” she replied nonchalantly.

“I want you to come now,” he said, with more sternness in his voice than I had ever heard there before. For one brief moment I feared we were going to have a scene, but Miss Gertrude merely laughed joyously and sprang to her feet, saying, “I’ll race you to the office then,” and disappeared down the passage aft almost before her sentence was ended. Mr. Hemster slowly followed her.

Hilda Stretton half rose, as if to leave me there alone, then sat down again, and courageously looked me full in the face across the table.

“He is too late,” she whispered.

“Too late for what?” I asked.

“Too late in exerting parental authority.”

“Is he trying to do that?”

“Didn’t you see it?”

“Well, if that was his endeavour, he succeeded.”

“For the moment, yes. He thinks he’s going to talk to her, but it is she who will talk to him, and she preferred doing it this time in the privacy of the room he calls his office. A moment more, and he would have learned her opinion of him before witnesses. I am very glad it did not come to that, but the trouble is merely postponed. Poor old gentleman, I wish I could help him! He does not understand his daughter in the least. But let us go on deck and have coffee there.”

“I was just going to propose that,” I cried, delighted, springing to my feet. We went up the stair together and I placed a little wicker table well forward, with a wicker chair on each side of it, taking a position on deck as far from the companion-way as possible, so that we should not be surprised by any one coming up from below. The Japanese boy served our coffee, and when he was gone Hilda continued her subject, speaking very seriously.

“He does not understand her at all, as I have said. Since she was a baby she has had her own way in everything, without check or hindrance from him, and of course no one else dared to check or hinder her. Now she is more than twenty-one years of age, and if he imagines that discipline can be enforced at this late hour he is very much mistaken.”

“Is he trying to enforce discipline?”

“Yes, he is. He has foolishly made up his mind that it will be for the girl’s good. That, of course, is all he thinks of,—dear, generous-hearted man that he is! But if he goes on there will be a tragedy, and I want you to warn him.”

“I dare not interfere, Hilda.”

“Why not? Haven’t you a very great liking for him?”

“Yes, I have. I would do almost anything in the world for him.”

“Then do what I tell you.”

“What is it?”

“See him privately in his office, and tell him to leave his daughter alone. Warn him that if he does not there will be a tragedy.”

“Tell me exactly what you mean.”

“She will commit suicide.”

This statement, solemnly given, seemed to me so utterly absurd that it relieved the tension which was creeping into the occasion. I leaned back in my chair and laughed until I saw a look of pained surprise come into Hilda’s face, which instantly sobered me.

“Really, Hilda, you are the very best girl in the world, yet it is you who do not understand that young woman. She is too thoroughly selfish to commit suicide, or to do anything else to her own injury.”

“Suicide,” said Hilda gravely, “is not always a matter of calculation, but often the act of a moment of frenzy,—at least so it will be in Gertrude Hemster’s case if her father now attempts to draw tight the reins of authority. He will madden her, and you have no conception of the depth of bitterness that is in her nature. If it occurs to her in her next extravagant tantrum that by killing herself she will break her father’s heart, which undoubtedly would be the case, she is quite capable of plunging into the sea, or sending a revolver bullet through her head. I have been convinced of this for some time past, but I never thought her father would be so ill-advised as to change the drifting line of conduct he has always held in regard to her.”

“My dear Hilda, you are not consistent. Do you remember an occasion, which to tell the truth I am loth to recall, when you said if her father treated her as I had done her character would be much more amiable than it now appears to be?”

“I don’t think I said that, Mr. Tremorne. I may have hinted that if her father had taken a more strenuous attitude in the past, he would not have such a difficult task before him in the present, or I may have said that a husband might tame the shrew. The latter, I believe, would lead to either a reformation or the divorce court, I don’t quite know which. Or perhaps even then there might be a tragedy; but it would be the husband who would suffer, not herself. A man she married might control her. It would really be an interesting experiment, and no one can predict whether it would turn out well or ill; but her father cannot control her because all these years of affectionate neglect are behind him, years in which he was absorbed in business, leaving the forming of her character to hirelings, thinking that because he paid them well they would do their duty, whereas the high salary merely made them anxious to retain their positions at any cost of flattery and indulgence to their pupil.”

“Then, Hilda, why don’t you speak to him about it? You have known him for more years than I have days, and I am sure he would take it kindlier from you than from me.”

“To tell you the truth, I have spoken to him. I spoke to him last night when we were both waiting for that flare from the shore at Chemulpo. I could not tell whether my talk had any effect or not, for he said nothing, beyond thanking me for my advice. I see to-day that it has had no effect. So now I beg you to try.”

“But if you failed, how could I hope to succeed?”

“I’ll tell you why. In the first place because you are the cause of this change of attitude on the part of Mr. Hemster.”

“I the cause?”

“Certainly. He has undoubtedly a great liking for you, in spite of the fact that he has known you so short a time. In some unexplainable way he has come to look at his daughter through your eyes, and I think he is startled at the vision he has seen. But he does not take sufficient account of the fact that he is not dealing now with a little girl, but with a grown woman. I noticed the gradual change in his manner during our stay at the Palace, and it became much more marked on the way back to Chemulpo, after we had left you alone battling with the savages of Seoul. You have said you were in no real danger, but Mr. Hemster did not think so, and he seemed greatly impressed by the fact that a comparative stranger should cheerfully insist on jeopardizing his life for the safety of our party, and to my deep anxiety his demeanour toward his daughter was at first severe and then harsh, for he roundly accused her of being the cause of our difficulties. I shall pass over the storm that ensued, merely saying that it took our whole force to prevent Miss Hemster from returning to Seoul.”

“Great Heavens!” I exclaimed, “surely that was mere pretence on her part; sheer bravado.”

“Not altogether. It was grim determination to do the thing that would immediately hurt her father, and I do not know what would have happened if she had escaped from us. It had the instant effect of subduing him, bringing him practically to his knees before her. So she sulked all the way to Chemulpo, and I expected that the brief assumption of authority had ended; but while we were rowing out to the yacht he spoke very sharply to her, and I saw with regret that his determination was at least equal to hers. Therefore I spoke to him after she had gone to her room, and he said very little one way or the other. Now he appears to think that as he has got her safely on his yacht once more he can bend her to his will, and I am terrified at the outlook.”

“Well, it doesn’t look enticing, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t, so won’t you please talk with him for his own sake?”

“I’d rather face the Emperor of Corea again, or his amiable subjects in mass meeting assembled, but I’ll do it for your sake. Oh, yes, and for his sake, too; I would do anything I could to make matters easy for Mr. Hemster.”

“Thank you so much,” said the girl simply, leaning back in her chair with a sigh of contentment. “Now let us talk of something else.”

“With all my heart, Hilda. I’ve been wanting to talk of something else ever since your very abrupt departure last night. Now am I over-confident in taking your last brief action there as equivalent to the monosyllable ‘Yes’?”

The girl laughed and coloured, visibly embarrassed. She darted a quick glance at me, then veiled her eyes again.

“The brief action, as you call it, seems rather impulsive now in the glare of daylight, and was equivalent to much more than the monosyllable ‘Yes’. Three times as much. It was equivalent to the trisyllable ‘Sympathy.’ I was merely expressing sympathy.”

“Was that all?”

“Wasn’t that more than enough? I have thought since, with shame, that my action was just a trifle over-bold, and I fear you are of the same opinion, although too kind-hearted to show it.”

“My whole thought was a protest against its brevity.”

“But brevity is the soul of wit, you know.”

“Yes, Hilda,” said I, leaning forward toward her, “but not the soul of kissing. If my right arm had not temporarily lost its power you had never escaped with the celerity you did. ‘Man wants but little here below,’ and I want that little monosyllable rather than the large trisyllable. Make me for ever happy by saying you meant it.”

“For ever is a long time,” she answered dreamily, her eyes partially closed.

“Miss Stretton, will you oblige me by going downstairs; I wish to talk to Mr. Tremorne.”

The words, sharp and decisive, cut like a knife, and, starting to my feet in amazement, I saw that Gertrude Hemster stood before us, her brow a thundercloud. Turning from her beautiful but forbidding countenance to see the effect of her peremptory sentence upon my dear companion, I found the chair empty, and the space around me vacant as if she had vanished into invisibility through the malign incantation of a sorceress.