CHAPTER XXV
Breaking through the stream of ocean vapors, the morning sun showed thejungle raising a languid head above the ruins of the flood. Long rentsin its green mantle, bare patches of yellow mud, dark bruises whereacres of debris had been piled in twisted masses, testified to the forceof the wave. But, overlooking the wreckage from the smelter, Seyd tooknotice principally of a fact that suited his purpose--the river had beenswept clean of driftwood. Not since the beginning of the rains had itshown such open stretches.
"Good!" he muttered. "The sooner we get away the better. I'll call herat once."
When, however, he knocked at the office door Francesca answered "Come!"When he entered she smiled at his surprise. "You said that we were tostart early. Here I am, dressed and dried."
"Not before breakfast," he laughed. "It is ready. I'll have it broughtright in."
All through the meal her eyes questioned, but, denying her curiosity, hetalked of anything and everything but that which filled her mind. Evenwhen, clothed in his waterproof, she took her seat opposite him in thestern of the dugout he denied their eloquent appeal. While sending theboat with vigorous strokes flying downstream he drew her attention tothis and that phase of devastation and commented on the beauty of themorning, but not a word as to his purpose. It was cruel, and her eyessaid so. But, remorseless, he held on till, about midway of the morning,they sighted San Nicolas. All the way down he had hugged the SantaGertrudis side, and she received the first inkling when he replied toher question if it were not time to pull across.
"We are not going there."
"Not going there?" she repeated, surprised.
"No, we shall keep right on--down to sea."
"The sea?"
"The sea." He nodded firmly. "And the minute we land there we're goingto be married."
The idea was altogether too radical to be absorbed at once. No doubt shethought he was joking, for a smile broke around her mouth. Not untilthey were almost opposite San Nicolas did it give place to puzzledalarm.
"But, senor--Rob--Roberto." She changed it in answer to his quick look."But, Roberto--"
"Might as well make it Bob," he cut in, crisply. "It may seem strange atfirst, but seeing that we're to be married you might as well begin toget used to it now."
The San Nicolas walls now lay, a long, warm band, across their beam.From them her glance returned to the pendulum swing of his body.Finality centered in his steady stroke. It told that he had settled downfor the day. Had he calculated its effect beforehand he could not havedone better. Accustomed to Spanish deference, she was nonplussed by hisauthoritative air, yet its very unusualness invested it with a certaincharm.
"But--Bob?" Somehow the curt appellation acquired grace and softnessfrom her Spanish lisp. It fell so prettily that he made her repeat it.But, though she added to its attraction an appealing glance, he remainedgrimly obdurate.
"Give me time to think?"
"All you want. At this speed"--the oars creaked under his stroke--"youwill have about twenty-four hours."
She looked at him, frightened. "_Please?_ At least let us talk it over."
The cheerful roll of oars in the rowlocks returned wooden answer.
"Won't you?"
He stopped rowing and sat regarding her sternly. "I'm allowing you moretime than you gave me. If"--he paused, then, judging it necessary,relentlessly continued--"if _he_ were here in my place do you suppose--"
"Oh, he would! He did! After he had insured me against--"
"--Me," he supplied, with a dogged shake of the head, then went on,"Well, even if he would, I won't." As he bent again to the oars thetouch of admiration that leavened her undoubted fright paid tribute tohis stubborn logic. Settling to his stroke, he began again: "Supposingthat I complied and put you ashore at San Nicolas? Do you think that DonLuis would be any more favorably inclined toward me? You know that hewouldn't. I should do well to escape with my life. But if you go back asmy wife--well, the most they can do is to turn us out. Of course I canunderstand your feeling. It will be a frightful breach of theconventions--"
"No, it is not that," she interrupted him. "My friends will bescandalized, _si_, but they are long ago broken to that. They would bedreadfully disappointed if I did not fulfil their predictions by makinga shameful end. And it isn't--he. It is wicked to acknowledge it, but Iknow--I know now that no matter how hard I tried to school myself Ishould sooner or later have run away to you. They'll think itshocking--my friends, my mother--but I can endure it."
"And that can be avoided. I'll take you away--throw up everythinghere--make a new start somewhere else."
"No! no!" She shook her head. "Your work is here, and I am just as proudof it as you could be. Let them chatter. No, it isn't even that."
"Then what is it?"
"You wouldn't understand. It is silly, just a woman's reason. No, youwould not understand."
"I'll try."
"It is _so_ foolish." Nevertheless, encouraged by his sympathy, shecontinued: "Do you know that since the first kiss passed between us ayear ago we have had speech together only for a few minutes in thepresence of others? And her courtship is of such supreme importance in agirl's life. It is her love time, and she loves to lengthen and draw outits lingering sweetness. And ours has been so short."
It was the poignant cry of her girl's heart expressing the yearning ofher starved love, and, coming from such spirited lips, it moved himdeeply. Slipping the oars, he seized her two hands and pulled herforward into his arms. Then, while her dark head lay pillowed upon hisshoulder, he continued the argument to better advantage.
The walls of San Nicolas had dwindled to a golden streak before shelooked up in his face. "Supposing that I had refused?"
"I'd have carried you off in spite of yourself."
And, whether she believed him or not, she clung the closer in thatembrace.