"It must go in—exactly as it happened," I answered. "I had no valid excuse for the contemptible things I did. The public will consider it all a piece of fiction. I think it necessary to show the extent to which I lost my reason when I believed I had lost you. It is much safer in a novel to abuse the 'hero' than the 'heroine.'"
Seeing that nothing would move me she went on as I dictated and when the boat was due to arrive at Jamaica the next day we had reached the very words you are now reading. I had apparently recovered my strength entirely. That night I slept as soundly as if I had never known illness or mental trouble. In the morning we went early upon deck to see the entrance to the Harbor and had a pleasant talk with Captain Tindall, one of those affable and handsome men that England produces in such numbers and assigns to this duty all over the world.
Inquiry had convinced me that there was but one suitable place to stay at in Kingston—the Myrtle Bank Hotel—and the result proved the wisdom of my choice. While open to some slight criticism—as what hotel is not?—it was on the whole a delightful home to us during our brief stay. There being no more work to do at present I occupied the hours in talks, walks and drives with Marjorie, happy as the butterflies among the roses in the pretty park which separates the hotel from the shore.
We went one day to visit a camp of soldiers in the suburbs, on another to the Constant Spring Hotel, situated six miles from town in a mountain nook, to Castleton Gardens and Hope Gardens, beautiful for situation and high culture, with lovely roads leading to each. Again, we took the train to Spanish Town and drove to Bog Walk, as pretty a bit of scenery as one could desire. And later we passed several days at Mandeville, some fifty miles or so away, a village perched among the hills 2100 feet above the sea, where the scent of coffee flowers and orange blossoms fairly filled the delicious air and the thermometer recorded a degree of heat more grateful than that to be found in the lowlands. I noted the mercury at 70 when I went to bed, at 60 when I rose, and at 75 when the sun was in the zenith. I really do not know another spot more charming in any land, in March or April.
Besides this we visited Montpelier, Montego Bay and Port Antonio, seeing at the latter place a steamer of the Boston Fruit Company setting sail for the Hub with an immense cargo of bananas and oranges. The country thereabout is one field of those fruits, combined with the stately cocoanut palms, while a short distance away tobacco is grown that rivals the famed product of unhappy Cuba. On the 28th we bade farewell to the island, with genuine regret on my part at least, and took the little "Beta" of the Halifax line for Bermuda.
Before we left Kingston a batch of letters was received, some for each of us, and I did not attempt to annoy Marjorie this time by prying into her correspondence. My confidence in her was now at its highest point. She did not write any answers, nor did I, as we were so soon to reach home. After three days in Bermuda we started for America. I saw that, for some reason, she wanted to return, and with the hope that filled my breast I had no wish to prolong our absence.
It was agreed that we would have to separate when we touched land, she to go to her old lodgings and I to mine, but I stipulated that we were to meet again within a very few days and that she was to write me when to expect her. As I saw her enter her carriage, with her baggage strapped behind, I held myself well in hand, though the wish to embrace her at parting nearly overpowered me.
"You will write as soon as possible?" I said, interrogatively.
"Yes," she answered. "I will write; and then, if you still insist, I will come to you."
If I still insisted! I did not believe as I saw her wheels disappear in the street that anything could change the resolutions I held so dear!