CHAPTER VIII
I awoke next morning after a sweet and dreamless sleep that was almost inspiring. Months and months had passed since I slept in a European bed, and, although necessity had accustomed me to the habit of a Japanese mat upon the floor and a block of wood for a pillow, I must confess that the bed of the West still seemed to me a very paradise of luxury. There were more patent contrivances about that yacht than I have ever seen in such small compass before. Of course it had electric lights everywhere. There was a water-condensing machine, an ice-making machine, and all the usual fittings that now go to the construction of a luxurious steamer for sailing in warm latitudes. There was a bathroom which was Oriental in its splendour and Occidental in its patent fittings. One could have any sort of bath that one desired. By simply turning a handle on a dial the great marble basin became filled with water at any temperature indicated by the figures at which you set the pointer, from boiling-hot to ice-cold. This was indeed a delight, and when I came to it from my room in dressing-gown and slippers I found the Japanese boy there with a cup of delicious tea such as can be had only in the immediate vicinity of China. On a dainty plate whose figure work was only partially obscured by a filmy lace napkin were some finger-lengths and finger-widths of buttered toast. “Rupert, my boy,” I said to myself, “you have indeed fallen upon your feet!”
I now knew that I was going to have the pleasantest voyage of my life. The clouds which yesterday threatened to obscure my acquaintance with Miss Hemster had cleared away, and although I had surmised that the young woman was somewhat quick to take offence when one approached the confines of either ridicule or criticism, yet I was well aware that no man has a right to inflict conversation that is distasteful upon any woman, and I thought I had sufficient power over my speech to prevent further errors in that direction. A most unaccustomed sense of elation filled me, and, as I tossed about my wardrobe, I came across a pair of Oxford bags that I had not worn for years. As they were still spotlessly white, I put them on, with a blazer which gave to the world the somewhat glaring colors of my college, and, thus gloriously arrayed with cap on head, I almost imagined myself about to stroll along the High, once more an extremely young man.
My costume made quite a sensation at the breakfast-table, and caused great laughter on the part of our worthy captain, who said the only thing it reminded him of was a clown in Barnum’s circus. Miss Hemster was good enough to compliment the outfit, and, after the meal was over, did me the honour of strolling up and down the deck for nearly an hour, after which she disappeared below. Silas K. Hemster occupied his customary place on deck in the wicker armchair, and after his daughter had deserted me I stood beside him for a few moments, endeavouring to engage him in conversation, but soon saw that he preferred his own thoughts, for which preference, to be sure, I could find no fault with him, for anything I had to say was neither novel nor entertaining. I was about to go below and select a book from the rather extensive library when there met me at the head of the companion-way the notes of the very subdued playing of one of Chopin’s most charming nocturnes. I paused for a moment at the head of the stair, then descended softly, saying to myself that Miss Hemster was a most accomplished musician.
Perhaps I have not stated that at the farther end of the saloon from the foot of the stairs stood an excellent piano, and at the stairway end an equally fine American organ. As I descended I soon saw that the musician was Miss Stretton, who sat with her back toward me, playing with a touch I have seldom heard equalled even by professionals. I am very fond of music, so I slipped quietly into a chair and listened to those divine harmonies divinely played. Miss Stretton went on from nocturne to nocturne, and I felt somewhat guilty at thus surreptitiously listening, but resolved that the moment she gave a sign of ceasing I would steal quietly up the stair again without revealing my presence.
Down the passage facing me, that formed a highway from the saloon to the suites occupied by the ladies, I saw Miss Hemster come out of her room, and, by the same token, she must have seen me. She advanced a few steps, then stood still, apparently listening to the music, finally turned, and re-entered her apartment with a distinct, emphatic slam of the door. I paid no attention to this, but then was the time for me to steal on deck again if I had had any wisdom in my head, which I so frequently must admit I have not. Miss Stretton, absorbed in the music, presumably had not heard the slam of the door, but a little later Miss Hemster emerged again, and this time came straight down the passage and through the saloon, with a swish, swish of silken skirts that sounded eloquent in anger. I have never heard silk skirts rustle since then without remembering the occasion I am endeavouring to describe; yet never before or since have I heard the hiss of silk that actually swore, if I may be permitted the use of such an expression.
The young woman marched past me with head erect, and a gleam in her eyes such as I had seen on one occasion before, but this time fixed and anything but transient, as the other flash had been. I rose respectfully to my feet as she passed, but she cast not even a glance at me, merely pausing for a second at the foot of the stairs to catch up the train of her magnificent gown, then up the steps she went at a run. Now I had consciously given the girl no cause of annoyance, but, the music having ceased suddenly, I turned around and saw Miss Stretton regarding me with something like dismay in her eyes.
“How long have you been here?” she asked.
“Oh, only for a few minutes,” I replied. “Pray go on, Miss Stretton. I am very fond of music, and not for years have I been privileged to hear it so well played.”