Part 21 (1/2)
She lifted her chin. ”I am beginning to appreciate Mr. Landover's att.i.tude toward you, Mr. Percival,” she said icily.
”And to justify it, I suppose,” he said dejectedly. ”I want your friends.h.i.+p, Miss Clinton,--yes, I want a great deal more than your friends.h.i.+p. You may as well know it. I'm not asking for it,--I'm just telling you. Please don't go away. I promise not to make myself ridiculous. You have been good to me, you have been wonderful. I--I can't bear the thought of losing your friends.h.i.+p or your respect. I just had to bring Landover to time. You may think there was some other way, but I do not. At any rate, it isn't a matter that we can discuss. Some day you may admit that I was right, but I don't believe I will ever see the day when I will admit that I was wrong. Won't--can't we be friends?”
”I do not believe I can ever feel the same toward you after witnessing what I did this morning,” said she, shaking her head. ”You deliberately, intentionally degraded Mr. Landover in the presence of others. Was that the act of a gentleman? No! It was the act of an overbearing, arrogant bully who had nothing to fear. You took advantage of your authority and of the fact that he is so rich and powerful that he is practically without a friend or champion. You knew only too well that ninety-nine per cent of the people on board this s.h.i.+p were behind you in your attack on him because he represents capital! You had nothing to fear. No, Mr.
Percival, I don't believe we can be friends. I am sorry.”
”You heard what Mr. Landover said to me this morning, Miss Clinton,”
said he, paling. ”You heard what he called me. Do you believe these things of me?”
She was silent for a moment. ”No, I do not,” she replied slowly. ”I believe that you are all you have represented yourself to be.”
”Thank you,” he said, with gentle dignity. ”I am sorry if I have distressed you this evening. Please don't think too harshly of me when I say that I just had to find out how we stand, you and I. Now that I know, I can only promise not to bother you again, and you may rely on my promises. I never break them. Good-night, Miss Clinton.”
He bowed to Mrs. Spofford, who ignored him, and then to Ruth, a wistful smile struggling to his lips and eyes as he did so. As he turned away, she spoke to him.
”You mentioned your hand being bad again. If you would like me to dress it for you,--under the circ.u.mstances,--I will do so.”
”Ruth!” cried Mrs. Spofford in a shocked voice.
He put his left hand behind his back. It was the one with which he had gripped Landover's wrist that morning. The strain had reopened the partially healed wounds.
”I injured it this morning in an encounter with your friend, Miss Clinton. I can hardly ask you to dress it. Thank you, just the same.”
”I know all that happened in Mr. Landover's cabin, but even so, I am ready and willing to do anything in my power to ease the pain you are suffering.” She spoke calmly, dispa.s.sionately, almost perfunctorily.
He shook his head. ”I shouldn't have spoken of it,” he said. ”It isn't so bad that I can't fix it up myself. Good-night.”
She joined her aunt and they made their way in silence to the latter's stateroom. It was not until after the door was safely locked that Mrs.
Spofford delivered herself of the thought that had been in her mind the whole length of the slanting corridor.
”I hope he will not take advantage of his position to--to bully us--to bully you, dearest,--he might, you know. He has shown himself to be perfectly capable of it. And we are so defenceless. No one but Abel Landover to look to for help if he,--for, of course, no one else would dare oppose this lawless young,--oh, you need not smile! He has the power and it is quite plain now that he intends to exercise it. He will brook no interference--”
”I am not afraid of Mr. Percival, Aunt Julia,” said the girl, sitting down wearily on the edge of the berth. ”He is a gentleman.”
”A--a gentleman?” gasped Mrs. Spofford. ”Good gracious!”
”He will not annoy me,” said Ruth, absently study-ing the tips of her slim, shapely shoes. ”Possess your soul in peace. I think I know him.”
”Are you defending the braggart?”
”Not at all! I detest him,” cried the girl, springing to her feet, her face crimsoning. ”He is perfectly abominable.”
”I--I wouldn't speak quite so loudly, my dear,” cautioned her aunt, glancing at the door uneasily--”It would be like him to listen outside the door,--or at any rate, one of his men may have been set to spy upon--”
”Don't be silly, Aunt Julia. And don't be afraid. Mr. Percival isn't going to make us walk the plank for mutiny, or put us in chains,--or outrage us,--if that is what you are thinking. Now, go to bed, you old dear, and--”
”I insist on your staying in my room, Ruth. He is in love with you.”