The Marriage of Esther

"Murkard," said the father quietly, and without another remark led me back on deck again.

The name, and the tone in which it was uttered, puzzled me very considerably. But I was destined to be enlightened later on.

That night, when we sat under the awning on deck, smoking, and watching the lights of Papeete glittering ashore, and only the gentle gurgle of the water rising and falling alongside disturbed our talk, Ellison told me the story I have here told you.

When he had finished I felt constrained to say:

"With a little alteration of names and places, what a good book it would make."

"Wouldn't it," he answered seriously. "But my life's far too full of other interests now to write it."

"Will you let me try my hand on it?" I asked eagerly.

"If you like. But before you do it you must promise me two things."

"What are they?"

"That you will do my wife and Murkard justice."

"Oh, yes! I'll promise that and more with pleasure. And the other?"

"That you'll let me down as lightly as possible."

"I'll promise that also."

"Very good then; go ahead."

I set to work, and in due time the book was written. The next time I met him was in Levuka, Fiji. The schooner was leaving for the Carolines the following morning, and I went on board to wish them God speed. Just as I was pushing off from the gangway on my return to the shore, Ellison, who with his wife alongside him was leaning on the taff-rail, called out:

"Oh, I say! what about your book, my friend?"

"It is finished."

"Hearty congratulations. I wish you all good luck with it. And pray what do you intend its name to be?"

"That's a difficult question to answer off-hand; but, all things considered, I think the most appropriate title would be The Marriage of Esther."

THE END