She hung her head, but his eager ears caught the timid little "Yes" that escaped her lips.
"Then so be it. Now I will go for the doctor."
She held out her hand; he took it, and for the second time that morning raised it to his lips. Then he strode away in the direction of the store. Murkard was not surprised at the news. He accompanied him to the beach, and helped him to push his boat into the water. When Ellison was past the jetty he returned to his work, muttering:
"I knew something would happen to prevent it. This is the hand of Destiny again."
Ellison pulled swiftly across to the township, beached his boat opposite the Chinese quarter, and after inquiring the direction of the doctor's house, set off for it without a moment's delay. He discovered the medico smoking on his veranda, and in less than three minutes had given him a complete summary of the case. They returned to the boat together, and Ellison, after pulling him across, conducted him straightway to the sick man's bedroom. He did not go in himself, but waited on the veranda. In half an hour the doctor emerged and beckoned him out of hearing of the house. Ellison read the worst in his face.
"Is there no hope?"
"Not a scrap. I tell you this straightforwardly. Of course I presume, from your anxiety, you are an interested party, and as such have a right to know. The man's spine is fatally injured. Paralysis has already set in in the lower limbs. It is only a matter of time with him now."
"How long do you think he may live?"
"It is impossible to say – six hours, possibly eight, certainly not more. If you have any business to consult him upon, I advise you to do it at once; he may not be conscious very long."
"You have not told his daughter?"
"Only that the case is serious. I have told him, and I think he will tell her."
"Thank you for being so candid. It is really no business of mine, but I must try and help that poor girl to bear her sorrow. Shall you see him again?"
"I think so, though I am convinced it is hopeless. Still, I shall look over in the course of the afternoon. Who will put me across?"
"I will."
They got into the boat and pushed off. When he had landed the doctor, Ellison pulled slowly back. His brain was staggering under a multitude of thoughts. What was he to do? What must his duty be now? Should he go away and leave this girl to bear her sorrow alone? Or should he take the bull by the horns, ask her father to be allowed to make her his wife, and trust to Providence for the rest? He didn't know, he couldn't tell – both seemed equally impossible. He resolved to leave it, as he had done before, to the decision of blind Fate. In the meantime he pulled back to the jetty, secured the boat, and went up to the house. Esther saw him pass the window, and came quietly out on the veranda.
"He is sleeping now," she almost whispered; "but it doesn't seem a natural sleep. I cannot tell you how terrified I am about him."
"Poor girl! what can I say to you save that you have my sincerest, my most heartfelt sympathy? If you should want any assistance, remember that I am here to give it you, come what may."
Her only answer was to press the hand that rested on the veranda rail with her soft fingers. Her touch thrilled him through and through, and he went into the hut for lunch with a look in his face that had never been there before. He was beginning to understand his position more clearly now.
Towards the middle of the afternoon he was employing himself among the boats, when he saw her coming breathlessly towards him. He dropped the adze he held in his hand and went to meet her.
"He wants you to come to him," she managed to gasp. "Oh, I don't know how to tell you the agony of fear I'm suffering. He seems so much weaker. Come at once."
She accompanied him into the house, and to the door of her father's chamber. The change in the patient's face staggered him. It was ghastly white and drawn; approaching dissolution was staring from the restless eyes.
"Mr. Ellison," he said faintly, "I have sent for you, and I must be quick with what I have to say, for the end is near. Though I only saw you for the first time this morning, I seem to know you thoroughly. My daughter has told me of the kindness you and your friend have shown to her. She has also informed me that you told her last night of your love for her. Is that true, on your oath to a dying man?"
"Yes. It is true! I know now that I do love her."
"With your whole heart and soul, so help you God!"
"With my whole heart and soul, so help me God!"
"Is there anything to prevent you making her your wife?"
"In a legal sense, nothing. In a moral – well, perhaps I have not led the sort of life I might have done; but if you will trust her to me I swear before God, as I hope for heaven, that I will do my duty to her all the days of my life. I will endeavour to make her life happy at any cost to myself."
"She will be poor, remember. There is nothing for me to leave her save a few hundred pounds, this station, and the boats. You will have to work hard to support her."
"I will work my hands to the bone."
"Then as you deal with my motherless and fatherless girl, so may God deal with you. He has sent you to take my place, in her hour of need. If you stand firm by her he will not desert you in yours. As a dying man I trust you; that is enough. Now send her to me."
Ellison went to the door and called the girl. She came in, and the dying man gave them his blessing. After which he told them he would rather sleep.
When the doctor reached the house half an hour later Ellison met him on the threshold.
"How is he now?"
"You have come too late, doctor. He is dead!"
CHAPTER V
A WEDDING – A CONVERSATION – AND AN EPISODE
Towards sundown the following afternoon the remains of Alexander McCartney were conveyed across the straits and interred in the little cemetery above the township of Port Kennedy. A week later his daughter became Cuthbert Ellison's wife. It had been the dead man's wish that there should be no delay in the marriage. He was anxious to have his daughter's safety assured within as short a time of his demise as possible. Nor had either of them any objection to raise. The wedding took place in the little church on the hill-side, and Silas Murkard acted as his friend's best man. After the ceremony they sailed quietly home in one of their own boats to receive the congratulations of Mrs. Fenwick and the station, and to take up the old life once more.
As Ellison lifted his wife out of the boat on to the little jetty he looked into her eyes. There was only pure happiness and unutterable trust written there. He lowered his own before her gaze and heaved a heavy sigh.
When she had passed into the house, proudly escorted by Mrs. Fenwick, Murkard came up to him and took his hand.
"Cuthbert, I have waited my chance to congratulate you. We are alone now, and from the bottom of my heart I wish you happiness."
"Thank you. You have been a good friend to me, Silas."
"There is no question of friendship between us. It is more than that. But there is one thing I want to say to you."
"Say on."
"You will not be offended with me?"
"Never. I don't think it is in your power to do that, old friend."
"Very well, then I will say it. Cuthbert Ellison, you think you know the woman who has this day become your wife?"
Ellison nodded. He wondered what was coming.
"You would be surprised and perhaps angry if I told you that I know her a thousand times better than you do or ever will know her. I can read her nature as I can read yours. And for this reason I warn you. That woman has one of the purest and most beautiful minds ever given by God to any human being. Beware how you act towards her, beware of what you say! Remember, though you may mean nothing by what you say, she will never forget one single word. You have only to look into her eyes to see what she thinks of you now. She believes in you heart and soul, she worships the very ground you walk on; it remains with you to say whether she shall retain that trust or not. What you have said to her already cling to as a shipwrecked man clings to a spar; what you say in the future must be your own concern. I will help you if ever help be needed, but in the meantime watch yourself, and if there is a God watching over us may he bless and keep you both. I have spoken!"
Having said this he turned on his heel and walked quickly away in the direction of his own solitary hut. He entered and closed the door.
The evening meal finished, Ellison and Esther passed out to the veranda together. The day had been fine, but the night was dark and stormy; thick clouds obscured the heavens, big waves broke on the beach with ominous grumblings, and now and again swift streaks of lightning flashed across the sky. Husband and wife sat side by side. The man was reviewing in his mind the events of the day, and wondering at the strange conversation he had had with Murkard that evening. In spite of his supreme happiness a vague feeling of sadness was upon him that would not be dispelled. Esther was all content. Woman-like she derived an intense pleasure from mere personal contact with the being she adored. She could just see the outline of his face against the sky, and she wondered at its sadness. At last she spoke: