By the World Forgot: A Double Romance of the East and West

Truda understood well enough, but she was utterly incapable of answering. Her lips could scarcely frame a Polynesian word, much less an English one. She could only stare wildly. On a venture Stephanie repeated the question in French, then in Italian, then Celeste shook her head.

"She is not of the south, not Latin, mademoiselle," she said; whereupon Stephanie, summoning the remains of a brief schooling in the harsh tongue, repeated the question in very indifferent German.

There was no answer. That exhausted the linguistic possibilities of the cabin. Presently the steward appeared with broth, which the doctor had ordered. The two women, social differences more or less laid aside with this new and interesting plaything, had meanwhile covered the nakedness of the poor girl, who was entirely submissive and unresisting. in their hands, with one of Stephanie's daintiest and most beautiful night robes. Save for the grass or fiber petticoat of the Polynesian, with an occasional grass mat about her shoulders, Truda had never been so completely dressed before. She was scarcely dressed in that filmy, diaphanous adornment; but by comparison it seemed to her that she was strangely and fully clothed. The lace and linen and silk had a strange feeling to her, yet she was woman enough to delight in the beauty of the garment, to marvel childishly at its color, its softness. She lifted her lovely arm and stared at the short sleeves.

A thought struck Stephanie. At a word from her Celeste brought from her toilet case a silver mirror. Without explaining, she suddenly held it before Truda's eyes. The girl stared, screamed, threw up her hands. There had not been a still pool on the whole island. She had never seen herself before. She was frightened, but Stephanie, a little repentant, reassured her. She held the glass before her own face, so that Truda could look and see the reflection. She took the girl's hand and put it upon the glassy surface and then she put the mirror back in Truda's hand.

Mindful at last of the doctor's orders that the castaway should have sleep and rest, Stephanie and Celeste left her, carefully closing the door of the cabin behind them, and, worn out, Truda fell asleep, the mirror lying by her side, reflecting a very pretty picture indeed.

Now, Beekman was in a very much worse condition than Truda. He had done the fighting. Truda had been a more or less passive instrument in his arms during that horrible struggle with the tidal wave. Not only had his been the physical strain, but the mental as well. It is true that Truda had not been without her share of that mental strain after Beekman lapsed into unconsciousness a second time and presently grew delirious. It was Truda who had held him on the wreck of the boat during the night, who had kept him from sinking, and who had repaid him in this way for her life, which she owed entirely to him. It was Truda who had seen the ship in the growing dawn, who had made the signals which Beekman could never have made. Had it not been for Truda's erect position on her knees, the watchers on the ship might never have seen the wrecked boat with its human freightage.

In addition to all that he had gone through, when Beekman had been slammed against the boat by a wave his right arm had been severely injured. It was obvious to Dr. Welch and the others that Beekman was in bad condition. The physician made a very thorough examination of him. His eyes were open, his lips muttered unintelligible things from time to time, but he was obviously not in possession of his reason. He knew none of them and could tell no coherent story. That right arm, especially, attracted the doctor's attention. The skin was scraped and torn from its upper half. There was one long bruise. But for the antiseptic effects of the salt water it probably would have been in worse condition than it was. Fortunately, the numbness and pain were caused from muscle strain and muscle bruise, for it was found that no bones were broken. Physically, so far as his bones were concerned, Beekman, like Truda, was intact.

"I don't know what happened to them," said Dr. Welch. "They must have been caught in that wave somehow. They have both had a terrible battering."

"This is Mr. Beekman," said Maynard.

"What, the man we have been seeking?"

"The same."

"Well, by Heaven!" exclaimed the physician. He recovered himself in a moment. "I think we'll have him all right in a day or two. That's a nasty scrape he got on the right arm. The flesh is torn nearly to the bone, but the salt water has helped it, and as soon as it heals he will be all right. He is suffering now from fever brought on by the exposure. I have no doubt he saved that woman, and for a man to bring himself, let alone another human being, through a tidal wave like that-well, what he wants now is food, sleep, and complete rest. If you gentlemen will turn him over to me, I'll look after him, and when he wakes up, I'll guarantee he will be able to tell you all about it."

The doctor's advice was good. There was confidence in his bearing and in his words, which carried conviction to the two men. They withdrew and sat down together in the cabin, while the doctor, summoning his mate and a steward, busied himself with his patient.

"Well," said Maynard, in anything but a joyful manner, "our cruise has been a success."

"In so far as finding Beekman," was the equally melancholy answer, "but if the yacht sinks we won't have bettered his condition appreciably."

"No, of course, not," returned Maynard, thoughtfully. "Yet, I have great confidence in Captain Weatherby. I shan't give up hope until I feel her sinking under us."

Harnash nodded.

"The only thing to be decided now is, shall we tell Stephanie?" he went on.

"Tell me what?" asked the girl, coming into the room and overhearing the last words.

"I-er-" Harnash hesitated. "About our castaways, the man we picked up-"

"Is he alive yet? Will he live?"

"Dr. Welch guarantees it," answered her father. "He has been badly buffeted, his arm is cut and bruised, and he is prostrated from physical and nervous strain."

"Is he conscious yet?"

"No, but Welch thinks he will be when he wakes up. How about your patient?"

"She's all right. She's conscious and Dr. Welch says that she only needs nourishment and rest. She's asleep now, I imagine."

"Who is she? What is she?" asked her father.

"She didn't say a word. She must be a Polynesian, although she looks strangely like a European, especially since we clothed her for the night."

"Didn't she say anything at all?"

"Not a word. She seemed frightened. On a wild venture I tried her in English, Italian, French, and even German. She made no response, yet she seemed to understand. Incidentally, she's one of the most beautiful girls I ever looked at."

The two men stared at each other.

"Didn't your man say anything at all?" asked Stephanie, no suspicion at all in her mind.

"Not a thing. He muttered continuously and more or less unintelligibly, but he is not sane yet," answered her father.

"Does he look like a South Sea islander?"

"He isn't one."

"What is he, then?"

The two men looked at each other again. Neither answered the question. Stephanie stared, greatly surprised, and not in the least understanding.

"Why don't you answer? What is the mystery?" she asked, obviously somewhat annoyed by their inexplicable hesitancy.

"He is an American," observed Maynard, slowly.

"It's Beekman," said Harnash.

CHAPTER XVIII

THEY COMFORT EACH OTHER

The three seekers after Beekman were spared the necessity for immediate decision as to the telling of the story they had come so far to relate, for Dr. Welch came from the cabin on the heels of Harnash's startling revelation and reported that the patient was already quite composed and that he would soon be asleep. He guaranteed that he would awaken refreshed, in his right mind, and, save for the wound in his right arm, as well as ever. More careful examination disclosed that the wound was more superficial than otherwise. It would yield rapidly to treatment, the surgeon declared. Then having looked at his other patient, and finding her also fast asleep, Dr. Welch discreetly left the trio to their own devices.

"Of course," said Stephanie, relentlessly, "as soon as possible he will have to be told that our engagement is broken, and why."

"Yes," added Harnash, mournfully, "and as soon as he wakes up I shall tell him that I alone am responsible for his whole sorry plight."

"On the contrary," put in Maynard, sagely, "while I have no doubt that Welch is right, that Beekman will be much better when he does come to, yet he won't be completely himself. It takes more than a few hours of sleep to recover from such an experience as he must have passed through, and that torn arm is going to give him some trouble, at any rate. How he is going to receive both announcements no one can tell."

"He has a just right to be angry with me," said Stephanie.

"And much more with me," confessed Harnash.

There was a community of responsibility and blame, which, if anything were necessary, bound the two lovers more closely together than before, and, in answer to a common impulse, a human craving for sympathy, they approached each other to supplement invisible commiseration with something more tangible. Mr. Maynard looked away while George kissed Stephanie softly. When Maynard turned his head back they were standing side by side, while George was supporting Stephanie, who really needed no physical assistance whatever, by clasping her firmly about her waist.

"I never appreciated before as I do now what an infernal scoundrel I was and what a dastardly thing I did," said Harnash, in bitter self-scorn.

Stephanie was too honest and too clear eyed not to realize the truth of his words. She was too acutely conscious, however, of a certain share in his guilt, at least constructively, and too much in love to let him affect her in the least degree, except, perhaps, to fill her heart with compassion and tenderness for her lover at the terrible task imposed upon him. She patted the hand upon her waist and nestled a little closer to him, if that were possible.