“Will you be seated, Miss Hemster?” I said with such calmness as I could bring to my command.

“No, I won’t,” she snapped, like the click of a rifle.

I don’t know why it is that this girl always called forth hitherto unsuspected discourtesy which I regret to admit seems to lie very deep in my nature. I was bitterly angry at her rude dismissal of Hilda Stretton.

“Oh, very well; stand then!” I retorted with inexcusable lack of chivalry, and, that my culpability should be complete, immediately slammed myself emphatically down into the chair from which I had just risen. As I came down with a thump that made the wicker chair groan in protest, the look the lady bestowed upon me must have resembled that of the Medusa which turned people into stone.

“Well, you are polite, I must say,” she exclaimed, with a malicious swish of her skirts as she walked to and fro before me.

“You so monopolize all politeness on board this yacht,” was my unmannerly rejoinder, “that there is none of it left for the rest of us.”

She stopped in her rapid walk and faced me.

“You’re a brute,” she said deliberately.

“You expressed that opinion before. Why not try something original?”

“Do you think that is a gentlemanly remark to make?” she asked.

“No, I don’t. Some years of vagabondage coupled with more recent events have destroyed all claim I ever possessed to being a gentleman.”

“You admit, then, you are the scum of the earth.”

“Oh, certainly.”

Suddenly she flounced herself down in the chair Hilda had occupied, and stared at me for a few moments. Then she said in a voice much modified:

“What were you and Miss Stretton discussing so earnestly when I came up?”

“Didn’t you hear?”

“No. I am no eavesdropper, but I know you were talking of me.”

“Ah, then you didn’t hear.”

“I told you I didn’t, but I tell you what I suspect.”

“Then your suspicions are entirely unfounded, Miss Hemster.”

“I don’t believe it, but I’ll say this for you; however much of a beast you may be, you are rather unhandy at a lie; so if you wish to convince me that you are speaking the truth, you must tell me, without taking time to consider, what you were talking about if you were not talking of me.”

All this was uttered at lightning speed.

“I need no time for consideration to answer that question. We were talking of ourselves.”

“What were you saying? Come now, out with it if you dare. I can see by your face you are trying to make up something.”

“Really, you underestimate my courage, Miss Hemster. I was asking Hilda Stretton to do me the honour of marrying me, and she was about to reply when you cut short a conference so absorbing that we had not noticed your approach.”

This explanation seemed to be so unexpected that for a moment the young woman sat breathless and expressionless. Then she gradually sank back in her chair with closed eyes, all colour leaving her face.

Now, I am well aware of the effect the words just written will have on the mind of the indulgent reader. She will think I’m trying to hint that the girl, despite her actions, was in love with me. I beg to state that I am no such conceited ass as the above paragraph would imply. My wife has always held that Gertrude Hemster was in love with me, but that is merely the prejudiced view of an affectionate woman, and I have ever strenuously combated it. The character of Gertrude Hemster has for long been a puzzle to me, and I can hardly expect the credence of the reader when I say that I have toned down her words and actions rather than exaggerated them. But my own theory of the case is this: Miss Hemster had an inordinate love of conquest and power. I think I should have got along better with her if I had proposed to her and taken my rejection in a broken and contrite spirit. That she would have rejected me, I am as positive as that I breathe. I am equally certain that, while she would have scorned to acknowledge me as a favoured lover, she was nevertheless humiliated to know that I had given preference to one upon whom she rather looked down,—one whom she regarded as a recipient of her own bounty,—and the moment I made my confession I was sorry I had done so, for Hilda’s sake.

It has also been hinted,—I shall not say by whom,—that I was on a fair way of being in love with Gertrude Hemster if everything had progressed favourably. I need hardly point out to the reader the utter erroneousness of this surmise. I do not deny that during the first day of our acquaintance I was greatly attracted by her, or perhaps I should say wonderfully interested in her. I had never met any one just like her before, nor have I since for that matter. But that I was even on the verge of being in love with her I emphatically deny. I have no hesitation in confessing that she was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, when it pleased her to be gracious. She would certainly have made a superb actress if Fortune had cast her rÔle upon the stage. But, as I have said, I never understood this woman, or comprehended her lightning changes of character. I do not know to this day whether she was merely a shallow vixen or a creature of deep though uncontrolled passion. I therefore content myself with setting down here, as accurately as possible, what happened on the various occasions of which I speak, so that each reader may draw her own conclusions, if indeed there are any conclusions to be drawn, and I do this as truthfully as may be, at the risk of some misunderstanding of my own position, as in the present instance.

The silence which followed my announcement was at last broken by a light sarcastic laugh.

“Really, Mr. Tremorne,” she said, “it is not very flattering to me to suppose that I am interested in the love affairs of the servants’ hall.”

I bowed my acknowledgment of this thrust.

“My statement, Miss Hemster, was not made for your entertainment, or with any hope that it would engage your attention, but merely as an answer to your direct question.”

“So two penniless paupers are going to unite their fortunes!”

“Penniless, only relatively so; paupers, no.”

“Nothing added to nothing makes how much, Mr. Tremorne?”

“Madam, I am an Oxford man.”

“What has that to do with it?”

“Much. Cambridge is the mathematical university. I never was good at figures.”

“Perhaps that’s why you threw away your money.”

“Perhaps. Still, the money I threw away yesterday belonged to your father.”

“Is that to remind me of the debt I am supposed to owe you?”

“You owe me nothing. If anybody owes me anything I am certain Mr. Hemster will discharge the debt with his usual generosity.”

“Oh, you are counting on that, are you?”

“We have Biblical assurance, Miss Hemster, of the fact that the labourer is worthy of his hire. My hire is all I expect, and all I shall accept.”

“Well, it is my hope that your term of employment will be as short as possible; therefore I ask you to resign your position as soon as we reach Nagasaki. Your presence on this ship is odious to me.”

“I am sorry for that.”

“Then you won’t resign?”

“I say that I am sorry my presence on this ship is odious to you.”

“You can at once solve the problem by resigning, as I have suggested.”

“I dispute your right to make suggestions to me. If you want me to leave the yacht, ask your father to discharge me.”

“There is always a certain humiliation in abrupt dismissal. If you do not go voluntarily, and without telling my father that I have asked you to resign, I shall put Hilda Stretton ashore at Nagasaki with money enough to pay her passage home.”

“How generous of you! First-class or steerage?”

Her face became a flame of fire, and she clenched her hands till the nails bit the pink palms.

“You sneaking reptile!” she cried, her voice trembling with anger; “you backbiting, underhand beast! What lies have you dared tell my father about me?”

“You are under some strange misapprehension, Miss Hemster,” I replied, with a coolness which earned my mental approbation, fervently hoping at the same time that I might continue to maintain control over my deplorable temper; “you have jumped at a conclusion not borne out by fact. I assure you I have never discussed you with your father, and should not venture to do so.”

I remembered the moment I had spoken that I had just promised another lady to do that very thing. What everybody says must be true when they state that my thoughts are awkward and ungainly, rarely coming up to the starting-point until too late. I fear this tardy recollection brought the colour to my face, for the angry eyes of the girl were upon me, and she evidently misread this untimely flushing. She leaned across the little wicker table and said in a calm, unruffled voice, marked with the bitterness of hate:

“You are a liar.”

I rose to my feet with the intention of leaving her, but she sprang up with a nimbleness superior to my own, and before I was aware of what she was about she thrust her two hands against my breast and plumped me unexpectedly down into my chair again. It was a ludicrous and humiliating situation, but I was too angry to laugh about it. Standing over me, she hissed down at me:

“You heard what I said.”

“Perfectly, and I am resolved that there shall be no further communication between us.”

“Oh, are you? Well, you’ll listen to what I have to say, or I’ll add ‘coward’ to ‘liar.’ Either you or Hilda Stretton has been poisoning my father’s mind against me. Which was it?”

“It was I, of course.”

“Then you admit you are a liar?”

“‘All men are liars,’ said the Psalmist, so why should I be an exception?”

“You are very good at quoting the Bible, aren’t you? Why don’t you live up to it?”

“I should be the better man if I did.”

“Will you resign at Nagasaki, then?”

“I shall do exactly what your father orders me to do.”

“That is precisely the answer I should have expected from a mud-wallower who came to us from the gutter.”

“You are mistaken. I lived up on a hill.”

“Well, I give you warning, that if you don’t leave this yacht you will regret it.”

“I shall probably regret the tender memories of your conversation, Miss Hemster; but if you think to frighten me I beg to point out that it is really yourself who is in danger, as you might know if experience taught the class of persons it is said to teach. You have called me a brute and a beast and all the rest of it, and have partly persuaded me that you are right. Now the danger to you lies in the fact that you will go just a step too far on one of these occasions, and then I shall pick you up and throw you overboard. Now allow me to say that you have about reached the limit, likewise to inform you that I shall not resign.”

I now arose, confronting her, and flung the wicker chair to the other side of the deck. Then, taking off my hat, I left her standing there.