The Evacuation of England: The Twist in the Gulf Stream

by L. P. Gratacap

This progressive method he fancied promised the best results, and, his thoughts still recalling with infatuation the uncalled for insertion of his aigrette in her hair on the very day when he was expected, he imagined if there was not absolute surrender on Sally’s part now, there might be compromising negotiations for surrender later.

With complacency, he looked at himself in the glass, walked to the hallway and descended. He had reached the broad stairway which entered the centre of the first floor of this sumptuous home, descending on the two sides in a series of separate steps, and then uniting into a wide terrace of steps, expanding upon the hall at the bottom, and guarded by a balustrade, which ended in two newel posts of surprising proportions, each carrying an enormous Rokewood vase, from which sprang a mingled white and red exuberance of sweet alyssum and geranium. As Leacraft stood at the top of the terrace of steps, he commanded a full view of the lower hall. And right beneath him, at the foot of the terrace, under the Rokewood vases, he saw Sally Garrett—the girl whom a moment ago he had with some unction and self-flattery ventured to think was not averse to his attentions—pinning on the lapel of the evening suit of a most offensively good looking young man, a boutonniere of geranium and alyssum, filched (the theft was evident) from the great vase above their heads, and to accomplish which, it seemed to the maddened observation of Leacraft, that the young man must have lifted the young lady. This was a conjunction of agencies too terrible to dwell on with equanimity, and in pure fright Leacraft stopped a moment, and became an involuntary spy upon proceedings evidently not intended for an inspection so inimical as his.

It was Sally’s voice: “Well, Brig, I must confess that as an accomplice in crime you are shockingly cool. It was quite unnecessary for you to expect more than the flowers; and yet”—Leacraft seemed to hit the balustrade with his foot. The interruption was perhaps involuntary. In Leacraft’s condition, human nature could not stand a more excruciating strain. Sally looked up. So did the young man. “Oh, Mr. Leacraft, this is fortunate. I want you and Mr. Barry to be excellent friends. Mr. Barry is wonderfully strong, and you are so wise. With his agility, and your advice, I will have two escorts to-morrow that will save me from any exertion of mind or body. Mr. Barry will help me over the hard places, and you will explain things. Pardon,” with a coquettish glance at her companion and a demure courtesy to Leacraft; “you must go through the usual introductions. My cousin, Mr. Barry, Mr. Leacraft. Remember, I rely upon both of you, and you must be as amicable as doves,” and with that equivocal enforcement of neutrality, this impossible beauty vanished.

Ned Garrett appeared, and saved the situation, or at least diminished an insufferable embarrassment. The three men were the next instant summoned to dinner. They were met at the door of the dining-room by Mr. Garrett, a tall gentleman, still giving evidence of an athletic youth. Mr. Garrett was a man somewhat tormented with impatience, but genial withal, and possessing a singular power of rapid utterance, conjoined also with the power of business-like demonstration. He shook hands with Leacraft cordially, and addressed a salutation of flattering familiarity to Mr. Barry.

Leacraft had suffered a very staggering blow, as he recalled the affair of the stairway, and he fell back, with only a half-satisfied security, upon Sally’s intimation that this unwelcome intruder—the Brig Barry of her previous encomiums—was a cousin. And the plague of it all was that he (Leacraft) was overpoweringly conscious of this same Brig Barry’s indisputable charms. Mr. Brig was a type of physical perfection. He carried on straight, but not too broad, shoulders, a finely shaped head, such which, at their best, are only seen in America; a head which announced to the world its intelligent emotions through the medium of an expressive face, wherein brown eyes, dark, straight eyebrows, a strong, large mouth, an aquiline nose, and blue veined temples, overhung by short, curled hair, combining their mutually enhancing details in making their young owner the target of feminine admiration. Cousins are by no means denied the privileges of marital union, and as there are all kinds of cousins, and the privilege is less and less questionable according to the numerical distance between them, it became a matter of preliminary importance for Leacraft to find out what kind of a cousin Brig Barry was to Sally Garrett.

In pondering sadly over this uncertainty his well formed plans, so agreeably outlined during his toilet, fell into disorder, and, as it were, evaporated. His agony of heart was not relieved when he observed the cruel object of his misgivings. Sally was placed at his side at the dinner table; opposite them sat Mr. Barry and Ned Garrett, and the ends of the table commodiously accommodated Mr. and Mrs. Garrett. Sally was radiant; she was well dressed, and—Leacraft’s eyes first sought its place—the aigrette was gone, and he noticed, acutely conscious of all telltale signals of interference by others with his own designs, a solitaire diamond ring on her right hand. His discomfiture was complete. It was a sad discovery, and Sally, gleaming with a light of happiness it was not his good luck to dispense, relentlessly added to his distress by showering the loathed Brig Barry with glances of commendation and approval.

But when could this engagement—he shuddered at the word—have been made? Leacraft, solicitous from the moment he entered the Baltimore house in the afternoon, had scanned that same hand with a jealous scrutiny, about two hours before, and it was guiltless of rings—quite free—he could have sworn to that. Was it possible that he had witnessed the closing rites of their pre-conjugal union from the top of the stairway? It was most likely. For a moment the unhappy man felt a swinging sensation, a kind of revolting nausea that put an actual pain in his heart, and a sudden impulse almost straightened him upon his legs, and would have sent him flying from the house, seized him, which only an indomitable Spartan furor of resistance, in his English soul, could have conquered.

The next instant he, too, was smiling, even observing with pleasant alacrity that when Brig Barry raised his wine glass to his lips, his eyes fell invitingly upon Sally, and that flattered fairy responded by sipping from her own, not, indeed, that such telegraphy of signals was obvious or unmannerly; no! it required the jealous eyes of an irritable rival to have seen it at all. It certainly was a cruel ordeal. It certainly taxed Leacraft’s self-possession. It was so fathomless and unexpected. Not a word from Ned about it, and Sally had always before appeared austerely impartial. Perhaps it was a sudden fancy, an illusion, hopeless on her part, because she could never marry her own cousin. The Englishman rummaged painfully in his stock of conservative teachings to prove conclusively that so abhorrent a social impropriety could never be permitted. But there was the ring! Well, a ring; what of it? A common gift; nothing more. It was madness for him to jump at conclusions so recklessly. Two cousins admiring each other—yes, loving each other, in a beautiful, domestic family way—and separated for a long time, were naturally rejoicing in reunion. Stupid to attribute so much as he had done, under so slight provocation, to their mutual affection, the affection, doubtless, of a brother and sister; keener indeed, as why not?

Ruminating thus propitiously, and only half conscious that he was going through the formalities of a course dinner, and was but poorly assisting the conversation, which consciously he thought had not yet developed into any consecutive line of talk, he suddenly seemed to come back to his senses, as these words proceeded with celerous distinctness from the lips of the older Garrett:

“A despatch was received in the office this afternoon, about an hour ago, from Colon, which startled us a good deal. Three earthquake shocks have been felt in Colon, and an enormous tidal wave swept over Limon Bay, in the direction of Mindi. There was loss of life at Colon. The coast towards the embouchure of the Chagres river has sunk sensibly, and a rumor prevailed at Colon, at the time the despatch was sent, that the walls of the great Culebra Cut had collapsed. This is bad news, if it is true, bad news for the President, bad news for the country. So enormous a disaster will be known at once, if it to be known at all. The fact that no press accounts have been given out makes me hope that our despatch is a mistake, a canard, perhaps.”