She did not redden as she asked the question, and I do not know why I did.

"As my cousin," I answered. "It is my belief, Miss May," I added, "that you will find this journey very charming, if you go about it right. To be registered simply as my secretary, which will come as near as anything to the fact, or not to be given any t.i.tle at all, might arouse silly gossip among the other pa.s.sengers. A relationship of the kind I suggest will still idle tongues and make your position more agreeable."

She thought a little while and then said, suddenly:

"You--you are not married, I suppose?"

"Not in the least," I replied, smiling.

"There is hardly time for much preparation," was her next observation.

"What kind of clothing should I need?"

"After the first few days, about the same as you would want here in August. I am not well versed in ladies' attire, but I should say that a travelling dress of some very thin material would be the first requisite; then a 'best' dress or two of very light weight; a liberal supply of articles" (I stammered slightly) "that need laundering, as there may be a fortnight at a time when washing cannot be obtained; thin shoes, slippers, walking boots suitable for summer, two or three hats--and--" I paused to think if I had omitted anything--"an umbrella and parasol."

She laughed as I finished. A sweet, engaging laugh that made me resolve that I would kidnap her and convey her on board by force in case she refused to go.

"No gloves?" she inquired, archly. "No cape, no--"

"Oh, there are doubtless a lot of kickshaws that will occur to you," I admitted, "that I need not mention. I am pretty sure that I do not even know the names of all of them. On January 12th and 13th the weather will be winter, on the 14th, 15th and 16th spring, and the rest of the time till May midsummer. I don't know as I can give you any better guide."

She said she would make an overhauling of her last year's clothing and see where she stood; which led me to ask, with, I fear too much anxiety in my tone, if she had, then, decided to go.

"Have you decided?" she replied, parrying the question. "You cannot have seen all the women who sent replies. Perhaps you will yet find one more suitable for your purpose. It is only fair to both of us to leave the matter open for a day or two."

"No," I answered, shaking my head decidedly. "As you said a few moments ago, the time is very brief for any one to get ready. Let us settle the matter now. And if you wish any part of your salary advanced--on account of the immediate expense you will have to a.s.sume--we shall have no difficulty in arranging that matter."

She grew thoughtful, and finally begged me to give her till the following morning, at least. She promised to send a messenger to my address before noon. I did not like the idea, but I could say nothing in opposition without appearing unreasonable, and ended by consenting to it.

"I pa.s.sed some months in the part of the world to which I am now going, three years since," I said, to strengthen her resolutions in favor of the journey, "and I can a.s.sure you that the voyage, from beginning to end, is simply delightful. The Caribbean is truly a summer sea; the Antilles are beautiful to look at, charming in flora and delicious in atmosphere. Then think of the escape you will have from the freezing and thawing of a New York spring. I promise to treat you with all consideration, and as for the labor you are to do, it will be very light indeed. If there is anything I have omitted, consider it included. I am sure," I added, as I rose to go, "that you will never be sorry for the chance that brings us into each other's company."

"Oh," she answered, with superb frankness, "I have no fear that I shall not like you, or that you will treat me in any manner unbecoming a gentleman. I only wish to think the matter over. In the meantime let me thank you for the partiality with which you view my application."

She insisted on going to the street door with me, where I bade her good-by without more ado, fearful that if I talked much longer I should say something foolish.

"To-morrow morning, then, I am to get your letter," I said, handing her a card on which I had previously written an address that would do for the present--"David Camwell, Lambs Club." "And to-morrow afternoon, at two again, I shall return to complete our arrangements."

As she bowed an affirmative, I lifted my hat and left her there; wondering why I had not chosen the Klondike for my vacation, so near the boiling point was every drop of blood in my veins.

CHAPTER VI.

"DO YOU REALLY WANT ME?"

I did not sleep well, that night, and as I tossed from one side of my bed to the other, I began to fear that the insomnia from which I had escaped, and whose return I so much dreaded, would fasten itself on me once more. During the long, still hours I had many moments when I was inclined to give up my plan of travelling in the company of a charming young woman, and even to drop the entire trip itself. I imagined my condition in a far land, with no physician at hand who understood my case or had the history of my illness. Only one who has known the horrors of sleepless months can conceive the terror which a possible renewal of its symptoms inspired. The mere thought of meeting my fair correspondent had deranged my arterial circulation. The sight of her, our conversation, though carried on in the quietest manner, had thrown my heart out of equipoise, speaking physically. What would happen when she and I were alone together for weeks and weeks?

She was very pretty--there was no doubt of that. She was also marvellously self-contained, and in a conflict of desires would certainly prove the stronger. Was it not the part of common prudence to "foresee the evil and hide?"

I had almost decided to adopt this course, when the sleep which had evaded me descended and for four hours I was blissfully unconscious.

It was nearly eight o'clock when I awoke, and with returning reason all the fears of the night vanished. I could only count the minutes now before the expected message would arrive--that message, I a.s.sured myself, which would confirm the hopes I so fondly cherished. Not a single doubt remained of the perfect wisdom of the double journey I had planned. I thought again of Dr. Chambers' advice not to travel alone; of Uncle Dugald's wish that the "genealogy" should be pushed to completion as rapidly as possible; of the advantage of having with me a constant companion, to while away the inevitable hours of loneliness. I raised Miss May to the highest pedestal as a young lady of excellent attributes and delightful personality.

Whatever happened, I would not go alone. If Miss May failed me, I would fall back on Miss Brazier. If she also proved obdurate or unsatisfactory, I would go through my other answers and try again.

But I came back always to the original point. It was Miss May I wanted, Miss May I meant to have.

Why should I not induce her to go? She needed a situation, or she would not have written for it. She had seen me and expressed herself candidly in my favor. There could hardly be anything now in the way, except the financial aspect of the case, and I was prepared to meet her on any ground she chose to name.

I lingered as long over my breakfast as possible, to kill the time, and read the morning papers, advertis.e.m.e.nts and all. Especially closely did I scan the "professional situations wanted," thinking perhaps there might be among them one from which I could fashion another "string to my bow." Most of the advertisers that morning were, however, either German governesses, or elderly ladies who wished positions in private families.

There were several professional models, who would "pose" for the figure at from one to two dollars an hour. In my desperation I almost resolved to turn painter and carry one of these off with me, if worse came to worst. Anything was better than making the journey alone, in my present state of mind.

A knock at the door startled me, and to my faint "Come in," a boy responded, wearing the uniform of a messenger. I looked at him like one in a dream, as he walked across the carpet and handed me an envelope.

Was there anything to pay? I inquired, and when he responded in the negative, I put a silver dollar into his hand for himself. Did I wish him to wait for an answer? No, I did not. I wished him to get out of the room as soon as possible, and to close the door behind him; which he proceeded at once to do.

For what seemed hours, and yet did not probably exceed ten minutes, I held that envelope in my hand, before I found courage to open it. Laugh at me, ye who will, your siege with nervous prostration has evidently not yet arrived. No prisoner awaiting the decision of a governor as to whether his sentence of death is to be commuted could lay greater stress on the contents of a message. I wanted Miss May to take that journey with me, as I had never wanted anything else. Her decision undoubtedly lay within that bit of paper.

I stared at the name I had given her, written in a bold, and still feminine hand, strong, clear, handsome. I turned the envelope over and noted the sealing wax with the impress of some sort of stamp which I could not entirely make out. And at last, with shaking fingers, I took up my paper cutter and made the requisite incision which released the note within.

My Dear Mr. Camwell--[this was the way it read]--Since you were here yesterday I have given a great deal of thought to the matter of which we spoke. It is a little more serious than I imagined when I answered your advertis.e.m.e.nt, and I am somewhat in doubt even now what I ought to say. ["When a woman hesitates, she is lost!" came to my mind.] Will you pardon me for being perfectly frank, [Pardon her?

I would pardon her anything but a refusal] in relation to a few personal matters? I wish to tell you my exact situation, and then I will leave it to you to decide. [Joy! It was coming.]

I am at present employed by a man--excuse me if I do not say gentleman--who pays me what I consider the liberal salary of twenty dollars a week, my services occupying only a portion of the morning hours. For reasons which I need not give in full I find the place very distasteful. In fact, had I been able to afford it, I would have resigned the position long ago. I am, however, entirely dependent upon my exertions for a livelihood, and not only that, there is another who looks to me for a certain amount of help, which I cannot, nor do I wish to withhold. When I read your notice in the Herald it seemed to contain two opportunities that I would be glad to secure. One was to change my situation, the other to absent myself from the city for a time, where I would escape annoyances which have become almost unbearable.

Now, on the other hand, as I told you when here, you are a much younger man that I expected to see. It is a little difficult to believe--you will excuse my frankness--that you wish my companionship from a purely business standpoint; indeed, you admitted that one of your reasons was a disinclination to travel alone. You cannot deny that a trip such as you contemplate, taken in my company, would subject me to unpleasant suspicions from any person we might happen to meet, who has known me before or should discover that the relationship claimed between us is a false one. A girl who has her way to make in this world cannot always listen to Mrs. Grundy, but there are certain precautions which she can hardly be excused from taking. How can I best protect my good name, if I accept your generous offer? That is one of the prime questions you must help me to settle.

Again, while, in a friendly journey like the one suggested, the matter of compensation seems almost impertinent, in the present case it cannot be treated as such. Were my circ.u.mstances what I could wish them, I would gladly make the journey without thinking of payment; candidly, I do not feel that the services I might render you would justify me ordinarily in accepting money for them.

Necessity, it has well been said, knows no law. I have never learned how to live and a.s.sist those depending on me without cash, that brutal desirability. You have expressed a willingness to pay a salary in addition to travelling expenses, and I, if I go, shall be compelled to accept it, reluctant though I am to do so.

On looking over my wardrobe I find that there are more things required than I supposed when you were here. When you call this afternoon I will make that matter plainer by exhibiting exactly what I have suitable to the climate to which you are going. I do not wish to influence you in the least, and I beg that if my needs are greater than you desire to supply, you will say so without fear. All of the money I could spare was expended very recently for winter garments, of which I have a supply suitable to a girl in my station.

I had no warning that I should be asked to exchange them at this season for others suitable to a tropical clime. If I do so, I know no source from which the cost can come except your purse. There!

Could anything be more candid than this straightforward statement?

If I see you at my room this afternoon, I shall understand that you appreciate the candor with which I write, and are willing to accede to my requests. If there is a doubt in your mind as to the advisability of doing so, it will be best for us both that you do not come. I shall comprehend and leave the field open to some happier girl, who may be able to accept your generous offer without these disagreeable preliminaries.

Yours, M.M.

No. -- West Forty-fifth Street.

I was all impatience till I read the very latest line, fearing there would be some qualification that I could not meet. When I found that it had resolved itself into a question so easily solved I sprang up and shouted in glee.

She would go! She was going! My dream was to become a reality!

Seizing a sheet of paper I began to write a note in response to the one I had received. She might get it only a short time before the hour of two, but it would prepare her for my coming, and clinch the bargain a little sooner. For five minutes I wrote rapidly, and when I stopped to peruse the lines I tore up the sheet.

Had she been my sweetheart for ages I could hardly have used more extravagant language than I had been guilty of on that first page. Would I never learn the first principles of common sense? I had begun with the words, "My Darling Marjorie," and gone on to state that "your sweet letter fills me with supreme happiness;" "I shall not breathe until once more I am in your loved presence.