The Marriage of Esther

"I'll see you down to your boat."

They walked to the shore together. One of the Kanaka hands was in waiting to put the doctor across. When the little craft had disappeared from view, Ellison went back to the house. He was bathing in a sea of happiness. His fondest dream was realised. He went into the sitting room and threw himself upon the sofa. He had hardly been there a minute before the door opened, and Mrs. Fenwick appeared bearing in her arms a bundle. He sprang to his feet once more, trembling in every limb.

"I'm sure I wish you joy, sir," she began, as she came towards him. "He's the noblest boy I've seen these many years; I ought to know, for I've nursed a-many."

She parted the blankets that enshrined the treasure, and Ellison looked down on the little face.

"Take him in your own arms, sir. It's a proud father you ought to be."

For the first time in his life Ellison held his son in his arms. How sweet and desirable the world seemed to him then. In spite of everything that had gone before he would not have changed places with any man who breathed. But he was not to be permitted the honour of holding the infant long.

"When may I see my wife?" he asked, as he laid the babe back in his nurse's arms.

"I'll call you when she wakes, sir."

For nearly an hour he was left alone. The little clock on the mantelpiece ticked off the score. Not a sound came from the outer world save the monotonous thunder of the surf upon the reef. He contrasted this night with that when, after the fight at the Hotel of All Nations, he had waited on the side of the hill, wondering what the morrow would bring forth, and whether it was too late for him to pull up and save himself. But he had pulled up, and now he —

Again a knock came to the door, and once more Mrs. Fenwick entered the room.

"She is awake now, sir. If you would like to see her for a moment, you can do so. But you must be careful not to excite her."

Ellison gave his promise, and followed the woman into his wife's room. Esther looked very white and thin; but it was evident she was glad to see him. Her pretty hair straggled across the pillow, and her great eyes looked into his with a love that nothing could ever quench. One hand lay on the coverlet; he took it softly in his, and raised it to his lips. A little smile of intense happiness hovered round her mouth. Suddenly he seemed to remember. Turning to the nurse, he whispered:

"Give me the child."

Without a word she did as she was ordered, and again Cuthbert Ellison held his new-born son in his arms. Then stooping, with all the tenderness his nature was capable of, he laid the sleeping babe within the hollow of the mother's arm. And bending over her, he kissed her on the lips.

"God bless and keep you both," he said, and softly hurried from the room, his heart overflowing with joy and thankfulness.

CHAPTER IX

HAPPINESS – UNHAPPINESS – AND A MAN OF THE WORLD

The birth of his son opened up to Ellison a new world. For the first month of that baby life everything connected with his own past was forgotten in one intense joy of possession. He began to understand that hitherto he had only vegetated; now he lived the life of a man who was not only a husband but a parent. The thread of his existence was a continuous one, woven and drawn in by the pink tenderness of a baby fingers. And as he noticed the growth of intelligence in those little eyes – the first faint dawning of the human soul within – his pleasure and delight increased a thousand-fold. He could hardly believe that the child was his own, his very own, bound to him by all the ties of flesh and blood – a veritable human, with a soul to be lost or to be saved by his influence. On the strength of his happiness he began to build gigantic castles in the air, and, what was more, to handsomely furnish them.

As for Esther, the motherhood that had come to her added a charm to her sweetness that her husband, much as he loved her, had neither known nor guessed that she possessed. The child was a perpetual mystery to her, and a never-ending charm. And yet with it all her husband was always the chiefest in her eyes. There was a difference in the love she felt for them – a difference that she could hardly account for or understand. One was of the other, yet not the other. One was a love she had in a measure created for herself; the other was nothing more nor less than herself. Indeed, their home life was now almost as perfect as it was possible for it to be. With a substantial banking account – how obtained Ellison never allowed himself to think; the new pearling season approaching with glowing prospects; a tender, loving wife to care for and protect; a son and heir to bind them closer to each other, he might indeed esteem himself a lucky man. Murkard found occasion, one morning, to tell him so in the store.

"Everything seems to prosper with you now, Ellison. If I had such a wife and son to work for, there'd be nothing I couldn't do."

"There shall be nothing I can't do. If things have changed, so much the better. I will make hay while the sun shines, and you must help me."

"There is nothing I would do more willingly. You know you may always count on my hearty cooperation."

Ellison shook him warmly by the hand.

"I know," he said. "You have been a good friend to me, Murkard."

"And you will forget it all in a moment."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. I'm only looking ahead. A habit of mine. Forget it." He turned to the desk at which he had been writing, and took up some papers. "Now let us talk business. The season is beginning, as you know. Are you ready for it?"

"Quite. The boats are in first-class trim; the two new divers will be here to-morrow; we shall get to sea on Thursday morning, all being well."

"And you still intend going with them?"

"On this particular trip – yes! I want to see how things work out yonder, and what chances there are for a floating station."

A floating station, in pearling parlance, is a larger vessel than the ordinary diving lugger, capable of anchoring in the vicinity of the fleet, of carrying stores sufficient to supply the boats during their operations, and of taking over their cargoes of shell when obtained. By this means the time which would otherwise be occupied in sailing the distance backward and forward to the land station, not unfrequently a distance of some hundreds of miles, would be saved, and the luggers enabled to go on working uninterruptedly. A floating station is also capable of meeting ships in the open sea, and of transhipping to them her cargo of shell, packed and addressed direct to the London markets, by this means again saving agents' fees, storage, wharfage, etc., etc., in Thursday Island. The advantages to be gained by employing such a vessel must be obvious.

"I wonder you like to tear yourself away just at present," said Murkard, after a little pause.

"I don't like it. I am dreading it like the coward I am; but it's got to be done, Murkard. Try as I will I can't blink that fact. As I told you a month ago, I intend to put my shoulder to the wheel now with a vengeance. I think I've proved since we came here that I'm made of the right sort of stuff. Well, I'm going to do twice as much now in support of that assertion. I have made one firm resolve?"

"And that is?"

"That save for the purposes of my business, in the strictest sense of the word, I will not touch a penny of that five thousand pounds. And I will deny myself no toil and no thrift that can help me to repay every farthing of what I do take, and with interest. Then it shall go back to England."

"But, man, you must be mad! It's your own money. As much yours as the child in yonder."

"Not the two in the same breath, as you love your life, Murkard. No! When I took the money I took it as a loan, and only as a loan. By God's help I will repay every farthing of it, and with interest. So only can I hope to satisfy my conscience."

Murkard looked at him. There was determination in every line of Ellison's face. He lifted his hand from the desk, and put it on the other's shoulder.

"Ellison, you're a brave man, and I respect you for it."

"That's because you don't know everything."

"I know quite enough to convince me of the justice of what I have just said. If there's any more at the back of it – I'll respect you the more for that too."

"Well, at any rate, that's enough on the subject for the present. Of course, while I'm away you will be in charge here. You understand that, don't you? I leave everything in your hands, including the safety of my wife and child. I need not say I trust you."

"You need have no fears on that score. I will guard them as if they were my own. How long do you expect to be away?"

"At least a month. It is no use going so far for less. If we have much luck I may stay longer; but it is very doubtful."

"Very doubtful, I should think."

Ellison picked up his hat and left the store. On returning to the house he found Esther seated on the veranda, the baby sleeping in a cradle by her side. He took the hammock and stretched himself out. Without speaking she signed to him, by taking his hand, to look; then stooping she drew the mosquito netting back from the cradle head, and showed him the child lying fast asleep. Hand in hand they looked down upon the little pink face; and the one little arm outside the quilt, with its tiny fist tight clenched, seemed to draw the father's and mother's hearts if possible closer even than before. Then she dropped the net again, and turned towards her husband. She saw that his face was preternaturally solemn.

"You have something to tell me," she said.

"Something rather unpleasant, I'm afraid," he murmured in reply. "And yet, after all, looked straight in the face, it is not very much. I meant to have told you before, but I've been putting it off from day to day. The fact is, Esther, I'm going away with the luggers the day after to-morrow for a month."

"You – going – away – and – for – a month! Oh, Cuthbert!"

It was the first real parting since their marriage, and the news came as an unpleasant shock to her. But Esther knew she must be brave, and not try to hinder him from what was evidently his duty. Calling Mrs. Fenwick out to the veranda, she gave the child to her; then, taking her husband's arm, she went with him down the path towards the shore.