Chapter 29

It was quite dark when they reached the wharf, and Dexie was wondering if Lancy knew of her absence when she saw his well-known figure outlined against the sky.

He did not know that the object of his anxious thoughts was so near, as he stood looking seaward, with a dark frown upon his face.

As the soldier moored the little boat, and prepared to help Dexie ashore, she suddenly said: "I gave you the revolver, but will you mind giving me the rest of the bullets in it?"

He looked at her in surprise.

"Certainly," he replied, and he laid them in her hand, "but I think you will find them unpleasant reminders of an incident you would do well to forget. A man in love is often a desperate individual, without realizing his condition; and I have no doubt that, by this time, McNeil would do much to recall what passed this afternoon. So let me ask you, for him, to forgive it."

"I could forgive all but the _revolver_ part of it. That was premeditated, and I shall not forget it. Let me thank you again for your kind assistance. I shall always think better of the soldiers for your kindness to me."

"I am amply repaid, my fair warbler," replied the soldier, as they stood at last on the wharf, "and if your excitable lover ever asks for his revolver, here is my address," and he handed her a card; "but, if I mistake not, a friend is waiting for you," and he waved his hand towards Lancy.

At that moment Lancy turned, and seeing the object of his thoughts so near, and in company with a soldier, his face underwent a series of expressions. But it was really Dexie, though he could scarcely believe his own eyesight, and he was at her side in a moment.

"Why, Dexie! where have you been? We were afraid there had been an accident."

A hundred questions were on his lips, but the presence of the soldier kept them back.

"I have been in danger, but there has been no accident, Lancy; and you must thank this gentleman for bringing me safely home."

As the memory of it all passed before her, her self-control gave way, and covering her face with her hands she burst into tears.

This was rather embarrassing to Lancy, who was all in the dark in regard to Dexie's movements. He was told that she had gone off with Hugh, and here she was in company with a soldier, and in tears.

"She will be all right in a few minutes," the officer replied, in answer to Lancy's surprised looks. "She has gone through enough to try a strong woman's nerves. Wait here; I'll get that cab, if it is empty, and you can take her home at once," and he darted up the wharf at a rapid pace.

"Where is Hugh?" said Lancy hurriedly; "not drowned, Dexie?"

"No; not that I know of," she said, choking back her tears.

"Then, what does all this mean? How came you to be out with the soldier, Dexie? I don't know what to think."

"I will tell you presently, but that soldier saved my life. Thank him for me, Lancy, for I cannot say enough."

The arrival of the cab prevented further explanation, and Dexie allowed herself to be seated in it without a word.

"I do not yet know what has happened," said Lancy, holding out his hand to the soldier, "but I thank you very heartily for your kindness. Jump into the cab with us, as far as your way lies, and tell me what this is all about."

As they took their seats, Lancy turned to Dexie, who had almost recovered her composure, saying:

"You have not yet introduced me to your friend. How shall I call him?"

Dexie held up the card she had in her hand, saying: "I do not know myself, and it is too dark to read."

"I am Lieutenant Wilbur, at your service, and I feel happy in being the means of rescuing the 'American Warbler' from a very unpleasant situation."

"I am Launcelot Gurney. Now, will one of you tell me what has happened? You have not been capsized, Dexie, for your clothes are not wet; but you have been gone since early afternoon, and return in unexpected company. I am bewildered by the thoughts and suggestions that crowd into my mind."

"Let me tell the story briefly, and she can relate the details later on. Here it is: Your fair warbler finds herself afloat, and unintentionally alone with a desperate lover, who demands her heart and hand at the point of a revolver, with the alternative of a death in his arms. Choosing neither, said American warbler skilfully guides the boat to a vessel anchored near, hoping to find a rescuer. This failing her, she takes advantage of a moment when the aforesaid lover's back is turned, and escapes to the vessel by aid of a rope ladder, and effectually keeps at bay the aforesaid lover by a judicious use of the revolver, which had previously been turned against herself. Then finding himself worsted, the afore-mentioned desperate lover hies himself away, and your humble servant turns up in the nick of time, and rescues the almost despairing warbler, and returns her to the arms of--well--a waiting friend; quite a romance, my wife will say."

Lancy listened to the story with amazement.

"Dexie, is this possible? or is the lieutenant only joking?"

"It has been no joke to me, Lancy; I can say that," was the reply in a quivering voice. "I was not off the vessel ten minutes, before we met the vessel's crew going towards her. I can't bear to think of it."

"But the revolver; surely that is an exaggeration!"

"It is here," and the lieutenant held it towards Lancy, who drew back with a shudder.

"Heavens! is it possible? I can hardly realize how Hugh was capable of such an act."

"You had better take this Mr. Gurney, and give it to the owner," said the lieutenant, still holding out the weapon.

"No!" said Dexie quickly, "he shall not have it back! If you will not keep it, Lieutenant Wilbur, I will throw it into the harbor the first chance I get!"

"I will keep it then, fair warbler," and he replaced it in his pocket.

"Does he not know your name?" said Lancy, in a low tone.

"No, but he saw us both in the hall, and remembers me."

"Well, it is but fair, lieutenant," said Lancy aloud, "that you should know the name of the lady you rescued. This is Miss Dexie Sherwood."

"Ah! happy to know you at last, Miss Sherwood," was the laughing reply, as he bent over her a moment; "but I must bid you good-bye, as I get off here," and signalling the driver he lifted his cap, and was soon out of sight.

They reached home in a few minutes, and Lancy followed Dexie into the house, saying:

"I must have the story from your lips before I leave you to-night, Dexie."

"Very well; but remember it is long past tea-time, and I am almost famished."

The family had become very much alarmed at Dexie's prolonged absence, and Mr. Sherwood had gone out to inquire if any accident had been reported on the water. As Dexie entered the sitting-room, Gussie looked up in surprise, as she saw who was Dexie's companion; she expected it would be Hugh, and it was easy to see that she was not in the best of tempers.

"It is time you were home, miss," was her caustic remark. "It is a wonder you are not ashamed of yourself to stay out till this hour! Just you wait till papa comes home--he has been almost wild with fright; and you have given mamma one of her nervous headaches, and she is quite ill; so you know just what you may expect from her."

Dexie made no answer, but moved briskly from sideboard to closet, collecting her supper.

"It would have been better for you if you had come home at the proper time to your supper, instead of keeping us waiting for you, as you did," and a torrent of complaints and reproaches were poured out, regardless of Lancy's presence, till he was moved to reply:

"I think, Gussie, if you knew the cause of her detention, and how much she has borne because of it, you would not say another unkind word to her to-night."

"Oh, never mind her, Lancy," said Dexie; "honestly, I rather enjoy it. I was so afraid this afternoon that I should never hear her scold me again that I can bear all she has to say as meekly as a lamb."

Gussie looked up in astonishment, then dropped her eyes for very shame.

"What has happened? Were you capsized? Is Hugh drowned?" she asked in alarm, noticing for the first time how sober they looked.

Her unceremonious exit from the boat had put her out of temper. She felt angry and mortified when she remembered how glad Hugh seemed to be to get rid of her. Was the day to end in a tragedy?

Where was Hugh, sure enough?

After leaving Dexie, he rowed across the harbor to some small fishing-boats that were riding at anchor, and tried to hire the occupants of one of them to accompany him to the vessel. But the story he told them seemed so improbable they would pay no attention to him for some time. Hugh was almost beside himself with fear on Dexie's account; but he at last succeeded in persuading a crafty old fellow to accompany him, by promising him more money for his services than the fisherman had ever, at one time, seen in his life, and finally he accompanied Hugh back to the vessel.

But, by the time they arrived, Dexie had disappeared past George's Island with the soldier, and Hugh found the vessel's deck alive with a set of men capable of the darkest deeds that drunken sailors ever perpetrated. Hugh's inquiries were not understood, of course; but believing the worst, he demanded to be allowed on board the vessel. This the captain, who now appeared, and who was about as drunk as his crew, refused to allow. Hugh urged and argued in vain, the idea of a young lady being aboard the vessel being hailed with uproarious shrieks of merriment by the vessel's crew. Hugh was at last obliged to give up in despair, and he rowed back with all speed towards the city, to secure the aid of the police in his search.

This was the darkest hour Hugh had ever known. The strain on his nerves, coupled with the anxiety of the previous weeks, was more than he could bear, and when, with the assistance of two men armed with authority, he searched the vessel for any trace of Dexie's presence, and found none, his brain seemed to collapse, and the brass-buttoned officers carried him back in their boat to Halifax in a state of unconsciousness.

About midnight, with a doctor in attendance, he was carefully carried to Mr. Gurney's in a state of delirium.

The next morning the startling news was brought into the Sherwood household that Hugh McNeil was down with brain fever, and that the doctor had not left the house since midnight.

Why did they all look at Dexie in such a horrified manner? Was she to blame? Their looks implied as much. She fought against the implication inwardly, but made no remark whatever as the news was being discussed.

But, as the day wore on, the unnatural stillness of the house seemed to weigh her down with its oppressiveness, and she caught herself listening to every sound with strained ears and every nerve on the alert.

She did not dare venture into the next door to make inquiries, not knowing how much they might be blaming her for Hugh's sudden illness; and the added trouble and anxiety his sickness necessarily caused, left no time for the Gurney girls to run in with a report of his condition. Consequently, when Lancy appeared about nine o'clock in the evening, Dexie's eyes asked the question her lips had not power to form.

"Hugh is no better--worse, if possible," and Lancy's face was as white as Dexie's own. "He keeps calling for you in his delirium; he seems to think you are drowned or worse, and reaches out to catch you. It takes two to hold him sometimes."

"Oh, Lancy! am I to blame?" she said, bursting into tears. "I have had such a horrible day with my thoughts. I don't see how I could help it; yet it was my fault, I suppose."

"Well, under the circumstances, I don't see how you could have done differently, Dexie; but don't fret about it. It is an uncomfortable affair all round, to be sure. I can't help feeling proud of you the way you braved it out rather than give your promise; but, of course, it was hard on Hugh."

"Does your mother know anything about my part of the affair?"

"Oh, yes! I told her all about it. Hugh raved so, I had to explain what I knew about the trouble. She guessed quickly enough that something had happened between you."

"And the doctor?"

"Oh! he knows about it too, and he wants to know if you will come in, if they find they cannot quiet him. Oh, Hugh will not know you," he added, looking into her frightened face; "but the doctor thinks you might get him to sleep if you would be willing to try it."

"Oh, dear! I don't want to go near him; but I suppose I must, if there is any chance of convincing him that I am safe, after all."

The doctor looked up in surprise when Dexie appeared in the room with Mrs. Gurney a short time after. Was it this slip of a girl that had wrought such mischief?

"So this is _your_ work," and he waved his hand towards the bed.

Dexie flashed an angry look at him, saying in a low voice:

"I beg your pardon, sir, I think Mr. McNeil can blame himself and no one else. What can I do, Mrs. Gurney?"

Hugh was tossing about in restless delirium, muttering broken sentences; and the piteous cry of "Dexie! oh, Dexie!" rang through the room.

"Speak to him; perhaps he will realize you are here," said Mrs. Gurney.

The doctor placed a chair by the bedside for her, then stood by the foot of the bed, watching.

"I never meant it, Dexie; I would not throw you over for worlds; forgive me."

Dexie knew that the memory of the scene on the roof was troubling his mind, and the anguish depicted on Hugh's face brought such a lump into her throat that she could not speak a word.

"Come back into the boat with me; I'll promise to take you home," he cried.

The doctor eyed Dexie sternly.

"Speak to him," he said, sharply.

"I am here, Mr. McNeil. I have come back safe and well. Try to sleep."

Her voice seemed to pierce the troubled brain, and his face lost much of its troubled look.

"Sing something, Dexie," said Mrs. Gurney, "and perhaps he will sleep. He has not been quiet since they brought him home," and, bending down, said softly, "Try, Dexie. I know it is hard for you, but if he will sleep it will be almost the saving of him. You will do this for me, I know."

"Nearer, my God, to Thee; nearer to Thee."

It was almost a whisper, but it soon had a visible effect on Hugh, and in half an hour the doctor's curt words, "You may go now," were more welcome than the sweetest praise.

As the fever ran its course, Dexie was frequently called to Hugh's bedside. How she dreaded those visits, yet stern duty forbade her to refuse, as her heart often prompted.

Dexie soon saw that she was not in the doctor's good graces, for as Hugh revealed the past, in broken and disjointed sentences, it gave him the impression that she had been trifling with Hugh's affections, and she resented the tone he assumed when speaking to her. However, as the days passed, and the doctor learned the real truth of the matter, he began to look at Dexie with less disfavor; but the inquisitive manner with which he now regarded her was not less objectionable.

"You will marry him yet," the doctor said one night as he watched his patient through his wildest hours.

Dexie, who was sitting near the window, turned in surprise at the unlooked-for remark.

"Yes, my word for it, Miss Sherwood, you will marry him yet, after all the fuss you have made over your refusal."

"Never!" The reply was low, but intense. "I know my own mind, I guess! I would not stay in the same room with him, though he is unconscious of my presence, only Mrs. Gurney imagines he is less restless when I am near, and she is anxious about his recovery."

"Oh! you need not tell _me_! I have heard of such cases before now. I have seen your eyes full of pity as you have watched beside him with Mrs. Gurney."

"Perhaps so; but not with the 'pity that is akin to love,' by any means," and as Mrs. Gurney returned to the room, she bowed a stiff good-night to the doctor and went home.

After days of anxiety the fever reached its height, and there was not a more anxious heart in the house that day than Dexie's own.

As she went about her daily household duties, she mentally pictured to herself what might happen in case of the worst. Would she be blamed for his death? and what would become of all Hugh's money?

She speculated as to how he had willed it, and wondered what were the contents of the letter Hugh had written to her father before that afternoon's sail. She hoped she would not be summoned again to the sick-room. But she was not to have that wish, for late in the evening Lancy came in to bring her over at once.

"The doctor says the next hour will decide whether he lives or not, and he wants you to be near in case you are needed in a hurry."

Towards midnight Hugh opened his eyes and recognized Mrs. Gurney, who was bending over him; and as he turned his face and saw the doctor also, he said, in a faint voice:

"What is the matter? Why am I here?"

"You have been sick, Hugh," said Mrs. Gurney, taking his hand; "do not talk."

"But I thought--I thought--I was in a boat," he said, faintly, and a puzzled look came over his face. "I was looking--for someone--or I was dreaming."

"You must not talk; try not to think itself," said the doctor, as he held some medicine to his lips. "You have been dreaming, no doubt; but try not to think about it any more."

Hugh was quiet for some minutes; memory was slowly returning; but at last the past all came back, and, casting an imploring glance into the doctor's face, said:

"Tell me! I remember it all now--I was searching for Dexie--is she safe?"

"Yes, safe and well, so make your mind easy."

"If I could--only feel--sure--"

"Will you bring me that pitcher of water, Miss Sherwood?"

The doctor's voice was low, but distinct, and an eager light came into Hugh's face as he heard the name.

"Pour a little into this glass," the doctor added.

As Dexie came near at the doctor's direction, Hugh looked up, and for one short moment their eyes met.

But that moment assured Hugh that Dexie was safe; that was all he could comprehend at present, for he was too weak to ask any more questions. Dexie could not bear the strain much longer, so, bending over Mrs. Gurney, she whispered:

"Tell me I may go, if only into the next room. I cannot bear it."

"Just a moment more, Miss Sherwood," the doctor whispered, overhearing the request "Help me a moment here," he said aloud, "and then you may retire."

She came towards the bed, and complied with his directions, knowing full well that Hugh's eyes were devouring her face.

"Is it you, Dexie, or your spirit?" the words were low and tremulous, but, in the stillness of the room, sounded clear and distinct.

"It is I, Mr. McNeil, alive, and well as ever I was."

"Thank God!"

His eyes closed, and with a gesture the doctor dismissed her; then taking his seat beside the bed, he watched until he was assured that Hugh had fallen into a natural sleep.

As Dexie left the room, she mentally said a final good-bye to it, feeling thankful enough that her services would not be needed again to hush the despairing cries or still the grasping hands that had clutched at space. It was the last time her eyes rested on Hugh for weeks. She knew he was recovering, and that was enough.

During his convalescence, Dexie never entered the Gurney household, lest by some chance she might come face to face with her enemy.

The occurrence on the boat was tacitly dropped by all parties concerned, and only when Hugh accidentally heard that the Sherwoods were preparing to return to the States did his reserve break down, and it was to Mrs. Gurney alone he expressed his regrets and intentions.