And then he turned away with a sigh and walked to the cabin which had been reserved for him on the deck. There was a cold wind blowing, and he closed the door; not till then did the mask fall from his face. Love tugged at his heart, and he would have given all he possessed to be face to face with his wife. His anger vanished, never to return, and his longing for her came back with overwhelming force. Now he blamed himself bitterly that he had not gone to her before his departure, for now, many weary weeks must elapse before he could see her again.
He sat there thinking deeply—of the vow he had made—his crusade against the rulers of the Congo—and his wife. There was a knock at the door, and the steward entered to unpack his trunk. Still he did not move until the bugle sounded the hour for dressing.
Almost mechanically he put on his evening clothes, and went down to the saloon, where the passengers were busily looking for their places at the table. Edward Drake and his brother were already there, but the meal was a very silent one, for each was busy with his thoughts.
After dinner Gaunt and Edward Drake went to the comfortable smoking-room on deck, and lighted their cigars.
“Now there can be no turning back,” Edward Drake remarked.
“Do you wish to?” Gaunt demanded abruptly.
“No. Except that I was sorry to leave England without obtaining the answer to a question which I had asked.”
“I suppose you refer to the time when I interrupted you. I am very sorry. Drake, you are a good fellow, and I could not wish a woman a better husband.”
“Thank you,” Drake answered simply. “At one time I never dreamt of telling Lady Ethel of my love. My brother Lindsay is my rival, and I thought that I must leave the way clear to him. But love can be selfish, and I intend to fight for my happiness. But it is hardly credible that she can care for me.”
“You never can tell where a woman’s feelings are concerned.”