Woven with the Ship: A Novel of 1865

  CHAPTER XIX

  THE USUAL COURSE

  They were together on the gun-platform once more, Emily and Revere.She sat on the gun-carriage and he leaned against the parapet by herside. He held a fold of her dress in his hand.

  "Now, Dick," she said, "tell me all about it. Was she vexed when shereceived your letter?"

  "My darling, she has not seen it. She and mother started before my mangot there. He is probably bringing it back here now. As good luckwould have it, she has fallen in love with a certain Charles Van Dorn.He's rather a poor stick, too, I think."

  "She must be a strange girl, Dick, to fall in love with anybody elsewhen you were around."

  "Well, I don't know. At any rate, she did fall in love, and she camehere of her own motion to break the engagement."

  "I wonder how she will feel when she gets the letter?"

  "Well, dearest, I thought, under the circumstances, I wouldn't give itto her."

  "Not give it to her?" cried the girl, with sudden promptness anddecision; "indeed you will give her that letter, sir! She shall knowyou loved me before she released you, and that you were going to breakthe engagement yourself. I won't have her think for a moment that Ijust got you because she threw you over. Not give her the letter,indeed!"

  "Well, Emily," said Revere, deprecatingly, greatly surprised at thisoutburst; "you see I thought I would save her the--er--humiliation,you know, of being rejected by a man."

  "And you will inflict on me, Richard Revere, the humiliation ofletting her think that I only have you because she didn't want you!That I----" furiously.

  "Now, my dear; you know perfectly well that's different. If she hashalf an eye, as soon as she sees us together, she will know that Ilove you desperately as I never loved her. She is a bright girl."

  "Bright! I don't think so!" contemptuously. "She is very stupid togive you up; but I'm glad she is----"

  "I should think she would be awfully sorry to know that a man hadbroken his engagement with her, and that's why I----"

  "Mr. Revere, I believe you are sorry yourself, after all! I believeyou are half in love with her still!" reproachfully.

  "Now, Emily, you know that's nonsense. Why, I felt so joyful when shesaid she was in love with that Van Dorn, that I had to turn away myface for fear she would see how enraptured I was."

  "Why didn't you tell her frankly, honestly, right then, that you werepleased with it; that you were engaged to me; that you had broken theengagement before? It was your duty,--your duty to me. You failed me;you failed me before. I can't trust you." Most unkindly and unjustlyspoken words were these, indeed.

  "Why, Emily, my dear child----"

  "I'm not a child, and don't you call me one! I am a woman, though youtreat me like a child, and I'm not dear to you, either! You aresacrificing me to that other girl," bitterly, tearfully, but withgreat determination.

  Revere was nonplussed by the revelation of these essentially femininecharacteristics in Emily's otherwise charming personality. He did notknow what to do or how to answer her in his bewilderment.

  "Are you going to give her that letter or not?" she asked,insistently, after a pause which he appeared unable to break unaided.

  "Well," he said at last, but very reluctantly, "I suppose if youinsist upon it I must; but frankly, I think it would be better not todo so. I do not believe it is right."

  "Is there something in it you don't want me to know?" suspiciously.

  "Nothing; absolutely nothing. I told you all I said as near as I canremember. It's a matter of principle, Emily. I think you are wrong,dearest. I----"

  "Oh, sir; then you will sacrifice me, will you, to your principle?Very well, Mr. Revere, understand one thing: if you do not give thatletter to her as soon as you get it back, you do not get me. I willnot have any one think I am a second choice."

  "But, Emily----"

  "Don't say anything more to me!" she flashed out. "I never was soangry in my life! Perhaps you are tired of me," impatiently andproudly.

  "Perhaps you are tired of me," answered Richard, shortly, his ownquick temper having at last reached the outbreaking point. "I thinkyou are very cruel indeed, to want to hurt this poor girl's feelings,and I do not see why you are crying now, either," he added, as Emily,under the stimulus of this reproach, the force of which sherecognized, put her handkerchief to her face and burst into tears. "Itseems to me you have entirely the best of the game. My engagement isbroken; I am free to love you, and I do, and to marry you, and I hopeto. You have me," he went on with unconscious egotism; "that ought tocontent you. Josephine will know, as soon as she sees us together,that I love you," he continued, sharply, "and that's enough."

  "I wonder what she would think of your love if she saw us togethernow," wailed Emily. "I don't care what you say; it's humiliating tome; it's brutal treatment. You say I have everything. You say I oughtto be satisfied with you. I'm not! So, there!"

  "Very well," said Revere, coldly; "I will leave you to think it over,and then, if you insist, I shall give her the letter, and you will besorry for it as long as you live."

  "I won't!" determinedly.

  "I hope you will, anyway," with equal determination.

  "I never dreamed you could be so rude and so unkind to me," shesobbed. "I am sorry that----"

  "Perhaps you would like to break our engagement, Miss Sanford?"coldly.

  "Oh, as you please, Mr. Revere," with well-simulated indifference.

  "There is a carriage coming up the drive," he remarked, glad of adiversion when they had reached this uncomfortable point in theconversation. "My mother and Josephine are in it."

  "Mercy!" exclaimed the girl, secretly glad of the interruption, too;"and they will see that I have been crying!"

  "As to the engagement?" continued Richard, doggedly; but Emily startedsuddenly to her feet and ran up to the house, leaving his questionunanswered. He followed her moodily and gloomily, feeling very low inspirits as well as very much annoyed.

  Barry had been busy all day about the ship, but he had not been toomuch occupied to see Revere and Emily whenever they were within range,and he had kept close watch upon them. Too far away to determine whatwas going on by the gun, he could at least see that the girl wasweeping, that she was unhappy, and he realized that she had leftRevere in anger and disappointment. The young officer was beginningearly to torment her, to break her heart,--so the old sailor surmised.If Barry needed any more inspiration, that was enough. But he wasalready sufficiently determined upon his plan, and he went back to hiswork with the fury of desperation renewed.