AT breakfast Tempest was precisely as usual, and so were the others.Nor was there effort or any sort of pretense in this.We understand only that to which we are accustomed; the man of peace is amazed by the veteran's nonchalance in presence of danger and horror, of wound and death.To these river wanderers, veterans in the unconventional life, where the unusual is the usual, the unexpected the expected, whatever might happen was the matter of course, to be dealt with and dismissed.Susan naturally took her cue from them.When Tempest said something to her in the course of the careless conversation round the breakfast table, she answered--and had no sense of constraint.
Thus, an incident that in other surroundings would have been in some way harmful through receiving the exaggeration of undue emphasis, caused less stir than the five huge and fiery mosquito bites Eshwell had got in the night.And Susan unconsciously absorbed one of those lessons in the science and art of living that have decisive weight in shaping our destinies.For intelligent living is in large part learning to ignore the unprofitable that one may concentrate upon the profitable.
Burlingham announced that they would cast off and float down to Bethlehem.There was a chorus of protests."Why, we ought to stay here a week!" cried Miss Anstruther."We certainly caught on last night.""Didn't we take in seventeen dollars?" demanded Eshwell."We can't do better than that anywhere.""Who's managing this show?" asked Burlingham in his suave but effective way."I think I know what I'm about."He met their grumblings with the utmost good-humor and remained inflexible.Susan listened with eyes down and burning cheeks.
She knew Burlingham was "leaving the best cow unmilked," as Connemora put it, because he wished to protect her.She told him so when they were alone on the forward deck a little later, as the boat was floating round the bend below Sutherland.
"Yes," he admitted."I've great hopes from your ballads.I want to get you on." He looked round casually, saw that no one was looking, drew a peculiarly folded copy of the _Sutherland Courier_ from his pocket."Besides"--said he, holding out the paper--"read that."Susan read:
George Warham, Esq., requests us to announce that he has increased the reward for information as to the whereabouts of Mrs.Susan Ferguson, his young niece, nee Susan Lenox, to one thousand dollars.There are grave fears that the estimable and lovely young lady, who disappeared from her husband's farm the night of her marriage, has, doubtless in a moment of insanity, ended her life.We hope not.
Susan lifted her gaze from this paragraph, after she had read it until the words ran together in a blur.She found Burlingham looking at her.Said he: "As I told you before, I don't want to know anything.But when I read that, it occurred to me, if some of the others saw it they might think it was you--and might do a dirty trick." He sighed, with a cynical little smile."I was tempted, myself.A thousand is quite a bunch.You don't know--not yet--how a chance to make some money--any old way--compels a man--or a woman--when money's as scarce and as useful as it is in this world.As you get along, you'll notice, my dear, that the people who get moral goose flesh at the shady doings of others are always people who haven't ever really been up against it.I don't know why I didn't----" He shrugged his shoulders."Now, my dear, you're in on the secret of why Ihaven't got up in the world." He smiled cheerfully."But I may yet.The game's far from over."She realized that he had indeed made an enormous sacrifice for her; for, though very ignorant about money, a thousand dollars seemed a fortune.She had no words; she looked away toward the emerald shore, and her eyes filled and her lip quivered.How much goodness there was in the world--how much generosity and affection!
"I'm not sure," he went on, "that you oughtn't to go back.But it's your own business.I've a kind of feeling you know what you're about.""No matter what happens to me," said she, "I'll never regret what I've done.I'd kill myself before I'd spend another day with the man they made me marry.""Well--I'm not fond of dying," observed Burlingham, in the light, jovial tone that would most quickly soothe her agitation, "but I think I'd take my chances with the worms rather than with the dry rot of a backwoods farm.You may not get your meals so regular out in the world, but you certainly do live.Yes--that backwoods life, for anybody with a spark of spunk, is simply being dead and knowing it." He tore the _Courier_ into six pieces, flung them over the side."None of the others saw the paper," said he."So--Miss Lorna Sackville is perfectly safe."He patted her on the shoulder."And she owes me a thousand and two dollars.""I'll pay--if you'll be patient," said the girl, taking his jest gravely.
"It's a good gamble," said he.Then he laughed."I guess that had something to do with my virtue.There's always a practical reason--always."But the girl was not hearing his philosophies.Once more she was overwhelmed and stupefied by the events that had dashed in, upon, and over her like swift succeeding billows that give the swimmer no pause for breath or for clearing the eyes.
"No--you're not dreaming," said Burlingham, laughing at her expression."At least, no more than we all are.Sometimes Isuspect the whole damn shooting-match is nothing but a dream.
Well, it's a pretty good one eh?"
And she agreed with him, as she thought how smoothly and agreeably they were drifting into the unknown, full of the most fascinating possibilities.How attractive this life was, how much at home she felt among these people, and if anyone should tell him about her birth or about how she had been degraded by Ferguson, it wouldn't in the least affect their feeling toward her, she was sure."When do--do you--try me?" she asked.
