The Marriage of Esther

"It is weak of me to think I can expect to keep you with me always," she said, when they had gone a little way. "But baby and I will miss you dreadfully."

"It must be, darling. You see, I must work now even harder than before."

"Why must you? We are doing well enough as it is, surely?"

"Yes, things have improved, certainly; but while that loan hangs over me I shall know no peace. It haunts me night and day. You would not have me idle my time away here on the strength of that money, would you?"

"Of course not. But I fear whatever you did, I should think right."

"Forgive my doubting that assertion. I'm certain, darling, if you saw me idle, even your love would not be above telling me so."

"But I should only tell you because I loved you."

"That is precisely why I am going away. I want to work hard, that I may prevent your ever being called upon to tell me."

"We are getting a little out of our depths, are we not?"

They had reached a little clearing in the jungle. Here she stopped, and taking his great brown hand in hers, stroked it with her own white fingers. Then, looking up into his face with a faint little smile, through which the tears threatened at any moment to burst, she said:

"Go, and may God prosper your labours!"

That was the last of her opposition.

Two days later Ellison gave the signal for departure, and the three luggers weighed anchor and stood out of the bay. His own boat was the last to leave, and until the headland shut her from his sight, Ellison waved a farewell to the white figure standing in the veranda. Then the sea took him into her arms, and for a month the station knew him no more.

It was sundown on the twenty-third day at sea. Work was almost over. The sun was little more than a hand's breadth above the horizon, and another hour would find him gone. Hardly a ripple disturbed the pearly serenity of the ocean; the only spot of land to be seen was a tiny island just peeping up on the sky-line away to starboard. Ellison sat upon the combing of the main hatch, holding the diver's life-line in his hand, watching the movements of the other boats, and listening to the throbbing of the air-pump on the deck beside him. It was nearly time for the diver to ascend.

Suddenly the line he held twitched violently in his hand. It was a signal to haul up the canvas bag containing the oysters gathered. He hauled in, and having emptied the contents on the deck, lowered the bag to be re-filled. Then with his knife he set to work to open the oysters. The first and second were valuable shells, but destitute of pearls; the third contained an almost insignificant gem; the fourth he opened carefully, with a sort of premonition that it would be found to contain something valuable. If the truth were known, he was thinking more of Esther than the work upon which he was engaged. When he did look inside, he almost dropped the shell in amazement. Tangled among the beard, and half hidden from his sight, was an enormous black pearl, perfect, so far as he could make out, in symmetry, and larger than a hazel-nut. Trembling with eagerness, yet without allowing a sign to escape him to show his crew that he had made a find out of the ordinary, he disentangled the gem from its bearded setting, and with exquisite care removed it altogether from the shell. He could hardly believe his good fortune. Perfect in shape, of enormous size, and, as far as he could tell, without a flaw, it was a jewel fit for a royal crown. He was afraid to think of its value, but from what he knew of pearls, five thousand pounds would hardly buy it.

He had barely time to conceal it in his pocket and order one of the Kanakas to stow the shells in their proper places, when the diver signalled that he was coming up. As soon as he had seen him disrobed he descended to his cabin, and after another careful examination of the gem, put it away in a place of safety. If his calculation of its value proved anything like correct, he would now be able to pay off his debt, relieve his mind of its weight of anxiety, and start again with a fresh sheet. But even without this marvellous bit of good fortune their trip had been phenomenally successful; now, with this additional piece of good luck, he felt that he was justified in weighing anchor the following morning and setting sail for home.

And what a home-coming it was, to be sure! What questions had to be asked and answered; how every change in the son and heir had to be described and noted. And indeed, as Ellison was only too glad to admit to himself, he was indeed a bonny boy. His heart throbbed with joy and pride as he held him in his arms.

And who shall paint Esther's delight in having her husband with her again? She could hardly bear him out of her sight.

When luncheon was over, and they had adjourned to the veranda, she came to business.

"You have not yet told me what success you met with, Cuthbert? I have prayed that you might be fortunate – night and morning."

"Then your prayers have been answered, darling, as any prayers of yours would be."

He led her back into the sitting room, and having made certain that no one was near to spy upon them, took from his pocket the little box which contained the pearl. In her soft white hand the gem looked as black as night.

"Oh, Cuthbert!" she cried, in supreme astonishment; "a black pearl! and such a large one. Oh, this is the greatest luck that could possibly befall us. Have you any idea what it is worth!"

"I hardly know, but at least I should think enough to liquidate that debt, and lay the foundation of our future fortunes."

"As much as that? Oh, husband mine, it is indeed an answer to my prayers. And now you will be quite free?"

"Yes, free – quite free."

His voice took a fuller tone as he said it. He threw his head back and laughed like his old happy self. Then, seating himself beside her, he began to question her on other subjects.

"It's a funny thing that Murkard should have chanced to be away just when I arrived. What time did he cross to the township?"

"About eleven o'clock, I think. Cuthbert, I want to talk to you about him."

"Well," he said, looking at her laughingly, "what has the old fellow been up to while I've been away? Making love to you? I'll certainly break his head for him if he has."

"Don't be silly! I want to talk to you seriously; I am alarmed about him. He frightens me terribly at times."

"Come, come, you mustn't be silly. There's nothing but what's honest about Murkard, I'll stake my life on that. He wouldn't willing hurt a fly. But in what way does he frighten you?"

"He looks so queer, and once or twice when I've sent for him he hasn't been able to come. I have serious suspicions that he has been drinking heavily lately."

"Is that so? Well, I'll soon stop that. And yet we must not be too hard on him, poor fellow, he has much to put up with. Hark! that sounds like his voice."

He rose and looked out across the veranda. Murkard was standing at his hut door, calling to a Kanaka on the beach. Ellison put on his hat and went across to him. Hearing steps behind him, Murkard turned round, and the other saw his face. It was of a whitey-gray colour, almost that of zinc; the pouches under his eyes were dark and swollen, while the eyes themselves had a shifty trick of roaming about as he talked. His hair was now almost entirely gray over the temples. His hands shook violently. He seemed to have aged years in that one month.

"Why, Murkard, how's it with you?" Ellison began briskly, resolved not to show that he noticed the queerness of his greeting. "But you're not looking well, man."

"I am quite well – quite well. I've had a touch of fever lately, but I'm better now. I'm glad to see you back. I hope you think I've taken proper care of your wife and child in your absence."

"I'm sure you have, old man. And now take my arm and come in here for a chat. I've great news for you."

They went into the store together, and Ellison seated himself on a bale of rope. Murkard picked idly at the edge of the counter with nervous, trembling hands. A figure passed the door, but neither of them saw it.

"Murkard, this has been a wonderful month for me."

"How – how? Why don't you speak out? Why do you keep me in suspense?"

"Nerves," said Ellison to himself. "I must stop this as soon as possible." Then aloud he continued, taking out the gem and placing it on the counter: "Three hundred pounds' worth of shell in the luggers, and that beauty."

Murkard picked up and turned the great black pearl over and over without answering. Finally he said:

"I suppose you will be a rich man now?"

"I shall be able, at least, to square that debt and start afresh, if that's what you mean. It's the greatest luck that ever came to a man. Congratulate me, old chap."

"I do congratulate you, from the bottom of my heart. You'll be able to square that debt, you say? Well, well, perhaps so – perhaps so."

"I feel as if a new life had been given me."

"Nonsense, nonsense, nonsense! We want no new lives. What should we do with new lives, when we don't know how to make use of those we've got? It's hell-fire for some of us, I tell you – hell-fire."

"Steady, old man, steady!"

"Listen to me, Cuthbert Ellison." He leaned over the counter, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "What's the worth of money when your immortal soul's in danger? Look at me and answer me that; look at me, I say. Stung with empoisonment and robed in fire, as somebody says: