The Queen''s Cup

  Chapter 10.

  "There is the Phantom getting under way," the skipper said, as histurn up and down the deck brought him close to Frank.

  "So she is. I saw her owner go ashore less than an hour ago."

  "Yes; he came on board again five minutes ago. The men began tobustle about directly he got on deck. I do hope they won't put inagain as long as we are here. The hands are as savage as bulls, andthough they remembered what you told them, and there were no rowson shore last night, I shall be glad when we ain't in the same portwith the Phantom, for I am sure that if two or three men of eachcrew were to drop in to the same pub, there would be a fight in notime. And really I could not blame them. It is not in human natureto lose a race like that without feeling very sore over it. I hopeshe is off. Anyhow, as we are going to Cowes this evening, it willbe a day or two before the hands are likely to run against eachother, and that will give them time to cool down a bit.

  "There is one thing. I bet the Phantom won't enter against us atCowes. If we were to give them a handsome beating there, it wouldshow everyone that they would have had no chance of winning the Cupif it had not been for the accident."

  "No, I don't suppose that we shall meet again this season, andindeed I don't know that I shall do any more racing myself, exceptthat I shall feel it as a sort of duty to enter for the Squadron'sopen race.

  "I think, by the course she is laying, that the Phantom is off toSouthampton. Perhaps she is going to meet somebody there. Anyhow,she is not likely to be back until we have started for Cowes."

  Frank sat for some time with the paper in his hand, but, althoughhe glanced at it occasionally, his mind took in nothing of itscontents. Again and again he watched the Phantom. Yes, she wascertainly going to Southampton Water.

  From what Bertha had said to him the evening before, he hadreceived a strong hope that she would reject Carthew. Nothing wasmore probable than that he should have gone ashore that morning,fresh from his victory, to put the question to her, and his speedyreturn and his order to make sail as soon as he got on deckcertainly pointed to the fact that she had refused him.

  A load of care seemed to be lifted from Frank's mind. From thefirst, when he had found that Carthew was a visitor at LadyGreendale's, he had been uncomfortable. He knew the man'spersevering nature, and recognised his power of pleasing when hedesired to do so. He was satisfied that, when he himself wasrefused, the reason Bertha gave him was, as far as she knew, thetrue one; but he had since thought that possibly she might then,although unsuspected by herself, have been to some extent under thespell of Carthew's influence. When she had declined twounexceptional offers, he had been almost convinced that Carthew,when the time came, would receive a more favourable answer. But hehad watched them closely on the few occasions when he had seen themtogether in society, and, certain as he had felt at other times, hehad come away somewhat puzzled, and said to himself:

  "She is captivated by his manner, as any girl might be, but I doubtwhether she loves him."

  This impression, however, had always died out in a short time, andhe had somehow come to accept the general opinion unquestioningly,that she would accept Carthew when he proposed. He had beenprepared to face the alternative of either suffering her to marry ascoundrel, or of taking a step more repugnant to him, which wouldprobably end by an entire breach of his friendship with theGreendales, that of telling them this story. He was thereforedelighted to find that the difficulty had been solved by Berthaherself without his intervention, and felt absolutely grateful forthe accident which had cost him the Queen's Cup, but had at thesame time opened Bertha's eyes to the man's true character. Soonafter two o'clock he went ashore in the gig, and at the half hourLady Greendale and Bertha came down.

  "The Osprey looks like a bird shorn of its wings," he said, as hehanded them into the boat; "and though the men have made everythingas tidy as they could, the two missing spars quite spoil herappearance."

  "That does not matter in the least, Frank," Lady Greendale said."We know how she looks when she is at her best. We shall enjoy aquiet sail in her just as much as if she were in apple-pie order."

  "You look fagged, Lady Greendale, though you are pretty wellaccustomed to gaiety in town."

  Lady Greendale did indeed look worn and worried. For the last twoor three days, Bertha's manner had puzzled her and caused her somevague anxiety. That morning the girl had come in from the gardenand told her that she had just refused Mr. Carthew, and, althoughshe had never been pleased at the idea of Bertha's marrying him,the refusal had come as a shock.

  Personally she liked him. She believed him to be very well off, butshe had expected Bertha to do much better, and she by no meansapproved of his fondness for the turf. She had been deeplydisappointed at the girl's refusal of Lord Chilson, on whom she hadquite set her mind. The second offer had also been a good one.Still, she had reconciled herself to the thought of Bertha'smarrying Carthew. His connection with the turf had certainlybrought him into contact with a great many good men, he was to bemet everywhere, and she could hardly wonder that Bertha should havebeen taken with his good looks and the brilliancy of hisconversation. The refusal, then, came to her not only as anabsolute surprise, but as a shock.

  She considered that Bertha had certainly given him, as well aseveryone else, reason to suppose that she intended to accept him.Many of her intimate friends had spoken to her as if the affair wasalready a settled matter, and when it became known that Bertha hadrefused him, she would be set down as a flirt, and it wouldcertainly injure her prospects of making the sort of match that shedesired. She had said something of all this to the girl, and hadonly received the reply:

  "I know what I am doing, mamma. I can understand that you thought Iwas going to marry him. I thought so myself, but something hashappened that has opened my eyes, and I have every reason to bethankful that it has. I dare say you think that I have behaved verybadly, and I am sorry; but I am sure that I am doing right now."

  "What have you discovered, Bertha? I don't understand you at all."

  "I don't suppose you do, mamma. I cannot tell you what it is. Itold him that I would not tell anybody."

  "But you don't seem to mind, Bertha; that is what puzzles me. Agirl who has made up her mind to accept a man, and who finds outsomething that seems to her so bad that she rejects him, wouldnaturally be distressed and upset. You seem to treat it as if itwere a matter of no importance."

  "I don't quite understand it myself, mamma. I suppose that my eyeshave been opened altogether. At any rate, I feel that I have had avery narrow escape. I was certainly very much worried when I firstlearned about this, two days ago, and I was even distressed; but Ithink that I have got over the worry, and I am sure that I havequite got over the distress."

  "Then you cannot have cared for him," Lady Greendale said,emphatically.

  "That is just the conclusion that I have arrived at myself, mamma,"Bertha said, calmly. "I certainly thought that I did, and now Ifeel sure that I was mistaken altogether."

  Lady Greendale could say nothing further.

  "I had better send off a note to Frank, my dear," she said,plaintively. "Of course you are not thinking of going out sailingafter this."

  "Indeed, I am, mamma. Why shouldn't we? Of course I am not going tosay anything here of what has happened. If he chooses to talk aboutit he can, but I don't suppose that he will. It is just the end ofthe season, and we need not go back to town at all, and next springeveryone will have forgotten all about it. You know what peoplewill say: 'I thought that Greendale girl was going to marry Carthew.I suppose nothing has come of it. Did she refuse him I wonder, ordid he change his mind?' And there will be an end of it. The endof the season wipes a sponge over everything. People start afresh,and, as somebody says--Tennyson, isn't it? or Longfellow?--they'let the dead past bury its dead.'"

  Lady Greendale lifted her hands in mild despair, put on her things,and went down to the boat with Bertha.

  "I have brought a book, mamma," the latter said as they went down."I s
hall tell Frank about this, though I shall tell no one else. Ialways knew that he did not like Mr. Carthew. So you can amuseyourself reading while we are talking."

  "You are a curious girl, Bertha," her mother said, resignedly. "Iused to think that I understood you; now I feel that I don'tunderstand you at all."

  "I don't know that I understand myself, mamma, but I know enough ofmyself to see that I am not so wise as I thought I was, andsomebody says that 'When you first discover you are a fool it isthe first step towards being wise,' or something of the sort.

  "There is Major Mallett standing at the landing, and there is thegig. I think that she is the prettiest boat here."

  The mainsail was hoisted by the time they reached the side of theyacht, and the anchor hove short, so that in two or three minutesthey were under way.

  "She looks very nice," Lady Greendale said. "I thought that shewould look much worse."

  "You should have seen her yesterday, mamma, when we passed her,with the jagged stumps of the topmast and bowsprit and all herropes in disorder, the sails hanging down in the water and thewreckage alongside. I could have cried when I saw her. At any rate,she looks very neat and trim now.

  "Where is the Phantom, Major Mallett?"

  "She got under way at eleven o'clock, and has gone up toSouthampton," he replied, quietly, but with a half-interrogatoryglance towards her.

  She gave a little nod, and took a chair a short distance from thatin which Lady Greendale had seated herself.

  "Has he gone for good?" Frank asked, as he sat down beside her.

  "Of course he has," she said. "You don't suppose, after what I toldyou last night, that I was going to accept him."

  "I hoped not," he said, gravely. "You cannot tell what a relief ithas been to me. Of course, dear, you will understand that so longas you were to marry a man who would be likely to make you happy Iwas content, but I could not bear to think of your marrying a man Iknew to be altogether unworthy of you."

  "You know very well," she said, "that you never intended to let memarry him. As I said to you last night, I feel very much aggrieved,Major Mallett. You had said you would be my friend, and yet you letthis go on when you could have stopped it at once. You let me gettalked about with that man, and you would have gone on letting meget still more talked about before you interfered. That was notkind or friendly of you."

  "But, Bertha," he remonstrated, "the fact that we had not beenfriends, and that he had beaten me in a variety of matters, was noreason in the world why I should interfere, still less why youshould not marry him. When I was stupid enough to tell you thatstory, years ago, I stated that I had no grounds for saying that itwas he who played that trick upon my boat, and it would have beenmost unfair on my part to have brought that story up again."

  "Quite so, but there was the other story."

  "What other story?" Frank asked in great surprise.

  "The story that George Lechmere came and told me two days ago," shesaid, gravely.

  "George Lechmere! You don't mean to say--"

  "I do mean to say so. He behaved like a real friend, and came totell me the story of Martha Bennett.

  "He told me," she went on, as he was about to speak, "that you hadmade up your mind to tell mamma about it, directly you heard that Iwas engaged to Mr. Carthew. That would have been something, butwould hardly have been fair to me. If I had once been engaged tohim, it would have been very hard to break it off, and naturally itwould have been much greater pain to me then than it has been now."

  "I felt that. But you see, Bertha, until you did accept him, I hadno right to assume that you would do so. At least so I understoodit, and I did not feel that in my position I was called upon tointerfere until I learned that you were really in danger of what Iconsidered wrecking your life's happiness."

  "I understand that," she said, gently, "and I know that you actedfor the best. But there are other things you have not told me,Major Mallett--other things that George Lechmere has told me. Didyou think that it would have been of no interest to me to know thatyou had forgiven the man who tried to take your life; and, morethan that, had restored his self respect, taken him as yourservant, treated him as a friend?"

  The tears stood in her eyes now.

  "Don't you think, Frank, that was a thing that I might have beeninterested to know--a thing that would raise you immeasurably inthe eyes of a woman--that would show her vastly more of your realcharacter than she could know by meeting you from day to day as afriend?"

  "It was his secret and not mine, Bertha. It was known to but himand me. Never was a man more repentant or more bitterly regretfulfor a fault--that was in my eyes scarcely a fault at all--exceptthat he had too rashly assumed me to be the author of the ruin ofthe girl he loved. The poor fellow had been half maddened, and wasscarce responsible for his actions. He had already sufferedterribly, and the least I could do was to endeavour to restore hisself respect by showing him that I had entirely forgiven him. Anykindness that I have shown him he has repaid ten-fold, not only bysaving my life, but in becoming my most sincere and attachedfriend. I promised him that I would tell no one, and I have neverdone so, and no one to this day knows it, save his father andmother.

  "How then could I tell even you? You must see yourself that it wasimpossible that I could tell you. Besides, the story was of nointerest save to him and me; and above all, as I said, it was hissecret and not mine."

  "I see that now," she said. "Still, I am so sorry, so very sorry,that I did not know it before.

  "You see, Frank," she went on, after a pause; "we women have tomake or unmake our lives very much in the dark. No one helps us,and if we have not a brother to do so, we are groping in the dark.Look at me. Here was I, believing that Mr. Carthew, whom I meteverywhere in society, was, except that he kept race horses and betheavily, as good as other men. He was very pleasant, very goodlooking, generally liked, and infinitely more amusing than most menone meets. How was I to tell what he really was?

  "On the other hand, there were you, my dear friend, who, I knew,had shown yourself a very brave soldier, and whom also everyoneliked and spoke well of, but of whose real character I did not knowmuch, except on the side that was always presented to me; and now Ifind you capable of what I consider a grand act of generosity."

  "You overrate the matter altogether, Bertha. The man shot me bymistake. The fellow he took me for richly deserved shooting. Whenhe found it was a mistake, the poor fellow was bitterly sorry forit. Surely, there was nothing more to be said about it."

  The girl sat silent for some time.

  "Well, it is all cleared up now," she said at last. "There is noreason why we should not be friends as of old."

  "None whatever," he said. "There has been only--" and he stoppedshort.

  "Only what, Frank?"

  "Nothing," he said. "We will be just as we were, Bertha. I will tryand be the good elder brother, and scold you and look after you,and warn you, if it should be necessary, until you get under otherguidance."

  "It will be some time," she said, quietly, "before that happens. Ihave had a sharp lesson."

  "And did you really care for him much, Bertha?"

  "I don't think that I really cared for him at all," she said. "Thatis not the lesson that I was thinking of."

  He saw the colour mount into her cheeks as she twisted thehandkerchief she held into a knot. Then, turning to him, she said:

  "Frank, are you never going to give me a chance again?"

  He could not misunderstand her.

  "Do you mean--can you mean, Bertha?" he said, in a low tone. "Doyou mean that if I ask you the same question again you will give mea different answer?"

  "I did not know then," she said. "I had never thought of it. Youtook me altogether by surprise, and what I said I thought was true.Afterwards I knew that I had been mistaken. I hoped that you wouldask me again, but you did not, and I soon felt that you neverwould. You tried hard to be as you were before, but you were notthe same, and I was not the same. Then I did not seem to car
e.There were three men who wanted me. I did not care much which itwas, but I would not have anyone say that I had married forposition--I hated the idea of that--and so I would have taken thethird. He was bright and pleasant, and all that sort of thing, andI thought that I could be happy with him, until George Lechmereopened my eyes. Then, of course, that was over; but his storyshowed me still more what a fool I had been, what a heart I hadthrown away, and I said, 'I will at least make an effort to undothe past. I will not let my chance of happiness go away from memerely from false pride. If he loves me still he will forgive me.If not, at least I shall not, all through my life, feel that Imight have made it different could I have brought myself to speak aword.'"

  "I love you as much as ever," Frank said, taking her hand. "I loveyou more for speaking as you have. I can hardly believe myhappiness. Can it be that you really love me, Bertha?"

  "I think I have proved it, Frank. I do love you. I have known itfor some time, but it seemed all too late. It was a grief ratherthan a pleasure. Every time you came it was a pain to me, for Ifelt that I had lost you; and it was only when I learned, two daysago, how you could forgive, and that at the same time I could freemyself from the chain I had allowed to be wound round me, and whichI don't think I could otherwise have broken, that I made up my mindthat it should not be my fault if things were not put right betweenus.

  "Now let us tell mother."

  Her hand was still in his, and they went across the deck together.

  "Mamma," she said, "please put down that book. I have a piece ofnews for you. Frank and I are going to be married."

  Lady Greendale sat for a moment, speechless in astonishment. Sheknew that Bertha had wished to tell him that she had refusedCarthew's offer, but that this would come of it she had neverdreamt. A year before she had approved of Bertha's rejection ofFrank, but since then much had happened. Bertha had shown that shewould not marry for position only, and that she would be likely totake her own way entirely in the matter; and, although this was adownfall to the hopes that she had once entertained, Lady Greendalewas herself very fond of Frank, and it was at any rate better thanhaving Bertha marry a man of whose real means she was ignorant, andwho, as everyone knew, bet heavily on the turf. These ideas flashedrapidly through her mind, and holding out one hand to each, shesaid:

  "There is no one to whom I could more confidently entrust herhappiness, Frank. God bless you both."

  Then she betook herself to her pocket handkerchief, for her tearscame easily, and on this occasion she herself could hardly havesaid whether they were the result of pleasure in Bertha'shappiness, or regret at the downfall of the air castles she hadonce built.

  "I think, Bertha, our best plan will be to go below now," Franksuggested, quietly.

  "What for?" Bertha asked, shyly.

  The thing had been done. She felt radiantly happy, but more shockedat her own boldness than she had been when she perpetrated it.

  "Well, my dear, I thought that perhaps you would rather not kiss mein sight of the whole crew, and certainly I shan't be able torestrain myself much longer."

  "Then, in that case," she said, demurely, "perhaps we had better gobelow."

  It was half an hour before they came on deck again.

  "Well, my dears," Lady Greendale said, "the more I think of it thebetter I am pleased. As far as I am concerned, nothing could benicer. I shall have Bertha within a short drive of me, and it won'tbe like losing her.

  "Do you know, Bertha, your father said to me once, 'I would giveanything if some day Frank Mallett and our Bertha were to take afancy to each other. There is nothing I should like more than tohave her settled near us, and there is no one I know more likely tomake her happy than he would be.' I am sure, dear, that you will beglad to know that your engagement would have had his approval, asit has mine."

  Bertha bent down and kissed her mother, with tears standing in hereyes.

  "It will be a great pleasure to us both to have you so near us,"Frank said, earnestly. "You know that, having lost my own mother solong ago, I have always looked upon you as more of a mother thananyone else, and have always felt almost as much at home in yourhouse as in my own.

  "Now, let us sit down and talk it over quietly. In the first place,I propose that on Monday, when you leave Lord Haverley's, you shallboth come here for a time. The Solent will be very pleasant for thenext fortnight, and we can then take a fortnight's cruise west,and, if you like, land at Plymouth, and go straight home."

  "I should be very glad," Lady Greendale said at once, rejoiced atthe thought that she would thus avoid the necessity of answeringany questions about Bertha; "and there will be no occasion at allto speak of this at my cousin's. There might be all sorts ofquestions asked, and expressions of surprise, and so on. It will bequite time enough to write to our friends after we have beencomfortably settled at home for a time. We can talk over all thatafterwards."

  "Yes, and I should think, Lady Greendale, that it would save thetrouble of two letters if, while mentioning that Bertha is engagedto your neighbour, Major Mallett, you could add that the marriagewill come off in the course of a few weeks.

  "Don't you think so, Bertha?"

  "Certainly not," she said, saucily. "It will be quite time to talkabout that a long time hence."

  "Well, I will put off talking about it for a short time, but, yousee, I have had a year's waiting already."

  Very pleasant was the three hours' cruise. No one gave a thought ofthe missing topmast and bowsprit. There was a nice sailing breeze,and, clipped as her wings were, the Osprey was still faster thanthe majority of the yachts.

  As soon as the two ladies had been put ashore, Frank sailed forCowes. It was too late when they got there for anything to be donethat evening, but Frank went ashore with the captain, and foundthat the spars were all ready to receive the iron work and sheavesfrom the old ones; and as these had been towed up to the yard to bein readiness, Messieurs White promised that they would arrange fora few hands to come to work early, and that the spars should bebrought off by half-past eight on Monday morning.

  As soon as he had returned in the gig, after putting the ladiesashore at Ryde, Frank had called George Lechmere to him.

  "It is all right, George, thanks to your interview with MissGreendale. It was a bold step to take, but it was the best possiblething, and succeeded splendidly, and everything is to be as I wishit."

  "I am glad, indeed, to hear it, Major, and I hoped that you wouldhave something of the sort to tell me. There was a look about youboth that I took to mean that things were going on well."

  "Yes, George. At first, when she told me that you had told herabout that affair at Delhi, I felt that there was really nooccasion for you to have said anything about it; but it did me agreat deal of good. She made much more of it than there was anyoccasion for; but, you know, when women are inclined to take apleasant view of a thing, they will magnify molehills intomountains."

  "I thought that it would do good, Major. I don't mean that it woulddo you any good, but that it would do good generally. I had to tellthe other story, and that came naturally with it; and, at any rate,she could not but see that there was a deal of difference betweenthe nature of the man who had been so good to me, and that of thatscoundrel."

  "That is just the effect it did have. Well, don't say anythingabout it forward, at present. The men shall be told later on."

  By one o'clock on Monday the Osprey was back at Ryde, and at twoo'clock the dinghy went ashore with the mate and two of the hands,who waited a quarter of an hour till a vehicle brought down theladies' luggage. Soon afterwards Frank went ashore in the gig, andbrought Lady Greendale and Bertha off.

  As they went down to their cabin, Bertha, looking into the saloon,saw George Lechmere preparing the tea tray to bring it up on deck.She at once went to him.

  "I did not thank you before," she said, holding out her hand; "butI thank you now, and shall thank you all my life. You did me thegreatest service."

  "I am glad, indeed, Miss Greendale, that
it was so; for I know thatthe Major would never have been a happy man if this had not comeabout."

  For the next fortnight the Osprey was cruising along the coast,getting as far as Torquay, and returning to Cowes. Frank did notenter her for any of the races. Lady Greendale, although a fairsailor, grew nervous when the yacht heeled over far, and evenBertha did not care for racing, the memory of the last race beingtoo fresh in her mind for her to wish to take part in another forthe present.