Уилки Коллинз: Miss or Mrs.?

“Have you done, Natalie? I have something to say on my side if you have.”

“What is it?”

“If things go on as they are going on now, shall I tell you how it will end? It will end in your being Turlington’s wife.”

“Never!”

“So you say now; but you don’t know what may happen between this and Christmas-day. Natalie, there is only one way of making sure that you will never marry Richard. Marry me .”

“Without papa’s consent?”

“Without saying a word to anybody till it’s done.”

“Oh, Launce! Launce!”

“My darling, every word you have said proves there is no other way. Think of it, Natalie, think of it.”

There was a pause. Natalie dropped her needle and thread, and hid her face in her hands. “If my poor mother was only alive,” she said; “if I only had an elder sister to advise me, and to take my part.”

She was evidently hesitating. Launce took a man’s advantage of her indecision. He pressed her without mercy.

“Do you love me?” he whispered, with his lips close to her ear.

“You know I do, dearly.”

“Put it out of Richard’s power to part us, Natalie.”

“Part us? We are cousins: we have known each other since we were both children. Even if he proposed parting us, papa wouldn’t allow it.”

“Mark my words, he will propose it. As for your father, Richard has only to lift his finger and your father obeys him. My love, the happiness of both our lives is at stake.” He wound his arm round her, and gently drew her head back on his bosom, “Other girls have done it, darling,” he pleaded, “why shouldn’t you?”

The effort to answer him was too much for her. She gave it up. A low sigh fluttered through her lips. She nestled closer to him, and faintly closed her eyes. The next instant she started up, trembling from head to foot, and looked at the sky-light. Richard Turlington’s voice was suddenly audible on deck exactly above them.

“Graybrooke, I want to say a word to you about Launcelot Linzie.”

Natalie’s first impulse was to fly to the door. Hearing Launce’s name on Richard’s lips, she checked herself. Something in Richard’s tone roused in her the curiosity which suspends fear. She waited, with her hand in Launce’s hand.

“If you remember,” the brassy voice went on, “I doubted the wisdom of taking him with us on this cruise. You didn’t agree with me, and, at your express request, I gave way. I did wrong. Launcelot Linzie is a very presuming young man.”

Sir Joseph’s answer was accompanied by Sir Joseph’s mellow laugh.

“My dear Richard! Surely you are a little hard on Launce?”

“You are not an observant man, Graybrooke. I am. I see signs of his presuming with all of us, and especially with Natalie. I don’t like the manner in which he speaks to her and looks at her. He is unduly familiar; he is insolently confidential. There must be a stop put to it. In my position, my feelings ought to be regarded. I request you to check the intimacy when we get on shore.”

Sir Joseph’s next words were spoken more seriously. He expressed his surprise.

“My dear Richard, they are cousins, they have been playmates from childhood. How can you think of attaching the slightest importance to anything that is said or done by poor Launce?”

There was a good-humored contempt in Sir Joseph’s reference to “poor Launce” which jarred on his daughter. He might almost have been alluding to some harmless domestic animal. Natalie’s color deepened. Her hand pressed Launce’s hand gently.

Turlington still persisted.

“I must once more request—seriously request—that you will check this growing intimacy. I don’t object to your asking him to the house when you ask other friends. I only wish you (and expect you) to stop his ‘dropping in,’ as it is called, any hour of the day or evening when he may have nothing to do. Is that understood between us?”

“If you make a point of it, Richard, of course it’s understood between us.”

Launce looked at Natalie, as weak Sir Joseph consented in those words.

“What did I tell you?” he whispered.

Natalie hung her head in silence. There was a pause in the conversation on deck. The two gentlemen walked away slowly toward the forward part of the vessel.

Launce pursued his advantage.

“Your father leaves us no alternative,” he said. “The door will be closed against me as soon as we get on shore. If I lose you, Natalie, I don’t care what becomes of me. My profession may go to the devil. I have nothing left worth living for.”

“Hush! hush! don’t talk in that way!”

Launce tried the soothing influence of persuasion once more.

“Hundreds and hundreds of people in our situation have married privately—and have been forgiven afterward,” he went on. “I won’t ask you to do anything in a hurry. I will be guided entirely by your wishes. All I want to quiet my mind is to know that you are mine. Do, do, do make me feel sure that Richard Turlington can’t take you away from me.”

“Don’t press me, Launce.” She dropped on the locker. “See!” she said. “It makes me tremble only to think of it!”

“Who are you afraid of, darling? Not your father, surely?”

“Poor papa! I wonder whether he would be hard on me for the first time in his life?” She stopped; her moistening eyes looked up imploringly in Launce’s face. “Don’t press me!” she repeated faintly. “You know it’s wrong. We should have to confess it—and then what would happen?” She paused again. Her eyes wandered nervously to the deck. Her voice dropped to its lowest tones. “Think of Richard!” she said, and shuddered at the terrors which that name conjured up. Before it was possible to say a quieting word to her, she was again on her feet. Richard’s name had suddenly recalled to her memory Launce’s mysterious allusion, at the outset of the interview, to the owner of the yacht. “What was that you said about Richard just now?” she asked. “You saw something (or heard something) strange while papa was telling his story. What was it?”

“I noticed Richard’s face, Natalie, when your father told us that the man overboard was not one of the pilot-boat’s crew. He turned ghastly pale. He looked guilty—”

“Guilty? Of what?”

“He was present—I am certain of it—when the sailor was thrown into the sea. For all I know, he may have been the man who did it.”

Natalie started back in horror.

“Oh, Launce! Launce! that is too bad. You may not like Richard—you may treat Richard as your enemy. But to say such a horrible thing of him as that—It’s not generous. It’s not like you .”

“If you had seen him, you would have said it too. I mean to make inquiries—in your father’s interests as well as in ours. My brother knows one of the Commissioners of Police, and my brother can get it done for me. Turlington has not always been in the Levant trade—I know that already.”

“For shame, Launce! for shame!”

The footsteps on deck were audible coming back. Natalie sprang to the door leading into the cabin. Launce stopped her, as she laid her hand on the lock. The footsteps went straight on toward the stern of the vessel. Launce clasped both arms round her. Natalie gave way.

“Don’t drive me to despair!” he said. “This is my last opportunity. I don’t ask you to say at once that you will marry me, I only ask you to think of it. My darling! my angel! will you think of it?”

As he put the question, they might have heard (if they had not been too completely engrossed in each other to listen) the footsteps returning—one pair of footsteps only this time. Natalie’s prolonged absence had begun to surprise her aunt, and had roused a certain vague distrust in Richard’s mind. He walked back again along the deck by himself. He looked absently in the main cabin as he passed it. The store-room skylight came next. In his present frame of mind, would he look absently into the store-room too?