“But, my dear boy, why don’t you, then?” cried Lady Haigh, with marked inhospitality. “Go over by yourself and live among them until we get the ship off. We could easily let you know when we were ready to start, and we should get on quite well without you.”
“Yes, do go if you would rather,” said Cecil.
“It’s likely, isn’t it?” was his sole reply, and no more was said. Under ordinary circumstances, Lady Haigh felt sure, he would have been off to those islanders for a week or a month, even though it had involved the sacrifice of all his interests in life, and the fact that he did not succumb to their attractions now showed that there was some very potent influence at work to detain him. What that influence was, Lady Haigh had no difficulty in guessing. Charlie’s behaviour as his cousin’s escort had been most exemplary, but she did not flatter herself that it was her society he sought. Charlie could never have been anything but a gentleman, but the assiduous way in which he had attended upon Cecil and herself since they had left Cairo bespoke something more than mere politeness. He had found out the way to catch Cecil’s attention now, and he used it. He was full of the most enthralling anecdotes and stories, narratives of his own adventures, and accounts of the queer people he had met in his wanderings, and he proved that his tales were as potent to interest a graduate of London University as a knot of listeners in a Cairo coffee-house. It was he who, by his extraordinary yarns, whiled away the long days on the island; and they were very long sometimes, for both ladies were anxious to reach their journey’s end, and chafed somewhat at the enforced detention. Happily there was no fear that the interruption to their voyage would cause anxiety to their friends, for the ways of the coasting steamers were known to be so erratic that no one would think of theirs as missing for a long time, and by that time they would probably have been picked up by the next regular steamer from Karachi; but to Cecil, who was nervously anxious to get to her work, the delay was a weary one. Under these circumstances Charlie’s power of discoursing for hours together came as a great relief. Cecil laughed at him in public, and in private teased him occasionally, in a dignified way, about his extraordinary flow of conversation; and yet felt, though she never confessed it to herself, that Baghdad would not be quite the land of exile she had pictured it, and endured the long delay very philosophically on the whole.
“I really think that Azim Bey will be grown up by the time I reach Baghdad,” she said one day, when the crew had been patiently shifting and reshifting the cargo for some time without producing any perceptible effect on the ship’s position.
“Are you afraid of getting out of practice, Miss Anstruther?” inquired Charlie. “Because I shouldn’t a bit mind your keeping your hand in by teaching me a little. We could get up a stunning schoolroom by putting one of those flat rocks for a blackboard, and you could instil some mental philosophy and moral science into me. They never could make me learn any when I was a boy, and all I’ve picked up since is entirely practical and quite contrary to all received rules, so that I should be glad to learn how to think properly.”
“Nonsense, Charlie,” said Lady Haigh, wagging her head wisely; “Miss Anstruther is anxious to get to her proper work, and doesn’t want to waste her time on you. If you really want to please her, help the men to get the ship off, so that we can go on again.”
“Cruel, cruel woman!” he cried. “No sentiment about Cousin Elma, is there, Miss Anstruther? Well, after that, if my humble efforts can do anything, we shall not be here much longer, though the mate did remark airily, when I offered to help, that they didn’t want any landsmen meddling about. But at any rate, if we wait two or three months longer, we must be picked up by the mail.”
As it happened, the mail came in sight that very evening, and at once hove to in answer to the signals from the stranded ship. By the united efforts of the two crews the coaster was got off, and at length proceeded on her way, to the great joy of the majority of her passengers. With Charlie Egerton, however, it was otherwise, for not only did he regret the pleasant time which was past, but there was a look in Lady Haigh’s eye now and then which betokened a lecture in store, and as he guessed what would be the subject of this, he made it his constant endeavour to avoid it.
“I really feel quite sorry to leave our island now, don’t you, Lady Haigh?” asked Cecil, as they stood on deck, watching the tops of the palm-trees disappear beneath the horizon. “Our life there has been so quiet, a sort of pause between our hurry in starting and the new work to which we are going.”
“Nonsense, my dear Cecil; you are just like a cat. You can’t bear to be moved,” said Lady Haigh, with more force than politeness. “There are some people who would grow sentimental on leaving a prison, if they had only been there long enough.”