CHAPTER X
As they left the dinner-table, Opal passed the Boy on her way to her stateroom, and laying her hand upon his arm, looked up into his face appealingly. He wondered how any man could resist her.
"Let's put the book away, Paul, and never look at it again!"
"Will you be good to me if I do?" he demanded.
She considered a moment. "How?" she asked, finally.
"Come out for just a few moments under the stars, and say good-night."
"The idea! I can say good-night here and now!" She hesitated.
"Please, Opal! I seldom see you alone—really alone—and this is our last night, you know. To-morrow we shall part—perhaps forever—who knows? Can you be so cruel as to refuse this one request. Please come!"
His eyes were wooing, her heart fluttering in response.
"Well—perhaps!" she said.
"Perhaps?" he echoed, with a smile, then added, teasingly, "Are you afraid?"
"Afraid?—I dare anything—to-night!"
"Then come!"
"I will—if I feel like this when the time comes. But," and she gave him a tantalizing glance from under her long lashes, "don't expect me!"
Paul tried to look disappointed, but he felt sure that she would come.
And she did! But not till he had given up all hope, and was pacing the deck in an agony of impatience. He had felt so certain that he knew his beloved! She came, swiftly, silently, almost before he was aware.
"Well, ... I'm here," she said.
"I see you are, Opal and—thank you."
He extended his hand, but she clasped hers behind her back and looked at him defiantly. Truly she was in a most perverse mood!
"Aren't we haughty!" he laughed.
"No, I'm not; I am—angry!"
"With me?"
"No!—not you."
"Whom, then?"
"With—myself!" And she stamped her tiny foot imperiously.
Paul was delighted. "Poor child," he said. "What have you done that you are so sorry?"
"I'm not sorry! That's why I'm angry! If I were only a bit sorry, I'd have some self-respect!"
Paul looked at her deliberately, taking in every little detail of her appearance, his eyes full of admiration. Then he added, with an air of finality, "But I respect you!"
She softened, and laid her hand on his arm. Paul instantly took possession of it.
"Do you really?" she asked, searching his face, almost wistfully. "A girl who will do ...what I am doing to-night!"
"But what are you doing, Opal?" he asked in the most innocent surprise. "Merely keeping a wakeful man company beneath the stars!"
"Is that ...all?"
"All ...now!"
They stood silently for a minute, hand still in hand, looking far out over the moonlit waters, each conscious of the trend of the other's thoughts—the beating of the other's heart. The deck was deserted by all save their two selves—they two alone in the big starlit universe. At last she spoke.
"This is interesting, isn't it?"
"Of course!—holding your hand!"
She snatched it from him. "I forgot you had it," she said.
"Forget again!"
"No, I won't!... Is it always interesting?... holding a girl's hand?"
"It depends upon the girl, I suppose! I was enjoying it immensely just then."
He took her hand again.
And again that perilously sweet silence fell between them.
At last, "Promise me, Paul!" she said.
"I will—what is it?"
"Promise me to forget anything I may say or do to-night ... not to think hard of me, however rashly I may act! I'm not accountable, really! I'm liable to say ...anything! I feel it in my blood!"
"I understand, Opal! See! the winds are boisterous and unruly enough. You may be as rash and reckless as you will!"
Suddenly the wind blew her against his breast. The perfume of her hair, and all the delicious nearness of her, intoxicated him. He laughed a soft, caressing little lover-laugh, and raising her face to his, kissed her lips easily, naturally, as though he had the right. She struggled, helplessly, as he held her closely to him, and would not let her go.
"You are a—" She bit her lip, and choked back the offensive word.
"A—what? Say it, Opal!"
"A—a—brute! There! let me go!"
But he only held her closer and laughed again softly, till she whispered, "I didn't—quite—mean that, you know!"
"Of course you didn't!"
She drew away from him and pointed her finger at him accusingly, her eyes full of reproof.
"But—you said you wouldn't! You promised!"
"Wouldn't what?"
"Wouldn't do—what you did—again!"
"Did I?" insinuatingly.
"How dare you ask that? You——"
"'Brute' again? Quite like old married folk!"
"Old married folk? They never kiss!"
"Don't they?"
"Not each other!... other people's husbands or wives!"
"Is that it?"
"Surely——
'Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife,
He would have written sonnets all his life?'
O no! not he!"
"I'm learning many new things, Opal! Let's play we're married, then—to someone else!"
"But—haven't you any conscience at all?"
"Conscience?—what a question! Of course I have!"
"You certainly aren't using it to-night!"
"I'm too busy! Kiss me!"
"The very idea!"
"Please!"
"Certainly not!"
"Then let me kiss you!"
"No!!!"
"Why not?—Don't you like to be loved?"
And his arms closed around her, and his lips found hers again, and held them.
At last, "Silly Boy!"
"Why?"
"Oh! to make such a terrible fuss about something he doesn't really want, and will be sorry he has after he gets it!"
And Paul asked her wickedly, what foolish boy she was talking about now? He knew what he really wanted—always—and was not sorry when he had it. Not he! He was sorry only for the good things he had let slip, never for those he had taken!
"But—do let me go, Paul! I don't belong to you!"
"Yes you do—for a little while!" He held her close.
Belong to him! How she thrilled at the thought! Was this what it meant to be—loved? And did she belong to him—if only, as he said, for a little while? She certainly didn't belong to herself! Whatever this madness that had suddenly taken possession of her, it was stronger than herself. She couldn't control it—she didn't even want to! At all events, she was living to-night! Her blood was rushing madly through her body. She was deliciously, thoroughly alive!
"Paul!—are you listening?"
"Yes, dear!" the answer strangely muffled.
And then she purred in his ear, all the time caressing his cheek with her small white fingers: "You see, Paul, I knew I had made some sort of impression upon you. I must have done so or you wouldn't have—done that! But any girl can make an impression on shipboard, and an affair at sea is always so—evanescent, that no one expects it to last more than a week. I don't want to make such a transitory impression upon you, Paul. I wanted you to remember me longer. I wanted—oh, I wanted to give you something to remember that was just a little bit different than other girls had given you—some distinct impression that must linger with you—always—always! I'm not like other women! Do you see, Paul? It was all sheer vanity. I wanted you to remember!"
"And did you think I could forget?"
"Of course! All men forget a kiss as soon as their lips cease tingling!"
Paul laughed. "Wise girl! Who taught you so much? Come, confess!"
"Oh, I've known you a whole week, Paul, and you——"
But their lips met again and the sentence was never finished.
At last she put her hands on each side of his face and looked up into his eyes.
"Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Paul?"
"Of course not!"
"Of course you are!"
"You misunderstood me!—I said 'Not'! But why? Are you ashamed of me?"
"I ought to be, oughtn't I? But—I don't believe you can help it!"
His lips crushed hers again, fiercely. "I can't, Opal—I can't!"
She turned away her head, but he buried his face in her neck, kissing the soft flesh again and again.
"Such a slip of a girl!" Paul murmured in her ear, when he again found his voice. "Such a tiny, little girl! I am almost afraid you will vanish if I don't hold you tight!"
Opal was thoroughly aroused now—no longer merely passive—quite satisfactorily responsive.
"I won't, Paul! I won't! But hold me closer, closer! Crush this terrible ache out of my heart if you can, Paul!"
There were tears in her voice. He clasped her to him and felt her heart throbbing out its pain against its own, as he whispered, "Opal, am I a brute?"
"N-o-o-o-o!" A pause. At last, "Let me go now, Paul! This is sheer insanity!"
But he made no move to release her until she looked up into his eyes in an agony of appeal, and pleaded, "Please, Paul!"
"Are you sure you want to go?"
"No, I'm not sure of that, but I'm quite sure that I ought to go! I must! I must!"
And Paul released her. Where was this madness carrying them? Was he acting the part of the man he meant to be, or of a cad—an unprincipled bounder? He did not know. He only knew he wanted to kiss her—kiss her....
She turned on him in a sudden flash of indignation. "Why have you such power over me?" she demanded.
"What power over you, Opal!"
"What's the use of dodging the truth, you professor of honesty? You make me do things we both know I'll be sorry for all the rest of my life. Why do you do it?"
Her eyes blazed with a real anger that made her piquante face more alluring than ever to the eyes of the infatuated Boy who watched her. He was fighting desperately for self-control, but if she should look at him as she had looked sometimes—!
"I can't understand it!" she exclaimed. "I always knew I was capable of being foolish—wicked, perhaps—for a grande passion. I could forgive myself that, I think! But for a mere caprice—a penchant like this! Oh, Paul! what can you think of me?"
His voice was hoarse—heavy with emotion.
"Think of you, Opal? I am sure you must know what I think. I've never had an opportunity to tell you—in so many words—but you must have seen what I have certainly taken no pains to conceal. Shall I try to tell you, Opal?"
"No, no! I don't want to hear a word—not a word! Do you understand? I forbid you!"
Paul bowed deferentially. She laughed nervously at the humility in his obeisance.
"Don't be ridiculous!" she commanded. "This is growing too melodramatic, and I hate a scene. But, really, Paul, you mustn't—simply mustn't! There are reasons—conditions—and—you must not tell me, and I must not, will not listen!"
"I mustn't make love to you, you mean?"
"I mean ... just that!"
"Why not?"
"Never mind the 'why.' There are plenty of good and sufficient reasons that I might give if I chose, but—I don't choose! The only reason that you need to know is—that I forbid you!"
She turned away with that regal air of hers that made one forget her child-like stature.
"Are you going, Opal?"
"Yes!—what did I come out here for? I can't remember. Do you know?"
"To wish me good-night, of course! And you haven't done it!"
She looked back over her shoulder, a mocking laugh in those inscrutable eyes. Then she turned and held out both hands to him.
"Good-night, Paul, good-night!... You seem able to do as you please with me, in spite of—everything—and I just want to stay in your arms forever—forever ..."
Paul caught her to him, and their lips melted in a clinging kiss.
At last she drew away from his embrace.
"The glitter of the moonlight and the music of the wind-maddened waves must have gone to my brain!" She laughed merrily, pulled his face down to hers for a last swift kiss, and ran from him before he could detain her.
The next morning they met for a brief moment alone.
Opal shook hands with the Boy in her most perfunctory manner.
Paul, after a moment's silent contemplation of her troubled face, bent over her, saying, "Have I offended you, Opal? Are you angry with me?"
She opened her eyes wide and asked with the utmost innocence "For what?"
Paul was disconcerted. "Last night!" he said faintly.
She colored, painfully.
"No, Paul, listen! I don't blame you a bit!—not a bit! A man would be a downright fool not to take—what he wanted—— But if you want to be—friends with me, you'll just forget all about—last night—or at any rate, ignore it, and never refer to it again."
He extended his hand, and she placed hers in it for the briefest possible instant.
And then their tête-à-tête was interrupted, and they sat down for their last breakfast at sea.
Opal Ledoux was not visible again until the Lusitania docked in New York, when she waved her companion de voyage a smiling but none the less reluctant au revoir!
But Paul was too far away to see the tears in her eyes, and only remembered the smile.