The Marriage of Esther. Guy Boothby

and a general moral abandonment that was not describable in words. Once while Ellison watched he rolled his head over and moaned softly. That was too much for the other; he thought for a moment, and then went across to where he could just discern some tall reeds growing against the sky. Pulling an armful he returned to the spot, and, having made them into a pillow, placed them beneath the sleeper's head. Then, leaving the little plateau, he descended to the shore and commenced a vigorous sentry-go that lasted until dawn. The effect of the liquor he had drunk that evening had now quite departed from him, leaving his brain, so it seemed to him, clearer than it had been for months past. As a result of that clearness, the argument upon which he had been engaging himself before wheeled back upon him. That same mysterious monitor was urging him to bestir himself before it was too late, to emerge from the life of shameful degradation that held him before its toils closed upon him forever. Surely he could do it! It only needed the rousing of that pride he had once boasted he possessed. Then friendless, powerless, backed only by the strength of his complete despair, he would show the world that he had still a little pluck left in him. Yes, with the rising sun he would begin a new life, and having made this last desperate stand, it should go hard with him if he did not succeed in it.

      As he made his resolution he espied the first signs of breaking day. The stars were paling in the east; a strange weird light was slowly creeping over the hill from the gateway of the dawn; the waves seemed to break upon the shingle with a sound that was almost a moan; the night-bird fled her tree with a mocking farewell; even the wind sighed through the long grass with a note of sadness he had not before discerned in it. Distant though he was from it, some eighty yards, he could make out Murkard's recumbent figure, huddled up exactly as he had left it. There was even a sort of reproach in that. Yes; he would uprouse himself, he would prove himself still a fighter. The world should not be able to say that he was beaten. There must surely be chances of employment if only he could find them. He could set about the search at once.

      Every moment the light was widening, and with it a thick mist was rising on the lower lands. To escape this he ascended the hill and approached his companion. He was still wrapped in the same heavy sleep, so he did not wake him, but sat down and looked about him. The sea below was pearly in its smoothness, the neighbouring islands seemed to have come closer in this awesome light; a pearling lugger, astir with the day, was drawing slowly through the Pass, and, while he watched, the sun, with a majesty untranslatable, rose in his strength, and day was born.

      About seven o'clock Murkard woke and stared about him. He regarded his companion steadily for half a minute, and then sat up. Their location seemed to puzzle him. He looked at Ellison for an explanation.

      "What the deuce are we doing up here?"

      "I don't know. We came, I'm sure I couldn't tell you why. You were most uncommonly drunk last night, if that could have had anything to do with it."

      "I suppose I must have been; at any rate I feel most uncommonly bad this morning. Anything happen?"

      "You insulted a man; he hit you, I hit him."

      "Result—you?"

      "This! And this!"

      "He?"

      "Broken jaw!"

      "I'm obliged to you. This is not the first debt of the kind I owe you. At the same time I suppose I ought to apologise?"

      "Pray spare yourself the trouble."

      "Thank you, I think I will. I hate being under obligations to any man, particularly a friend. And now, mon ami, what are we going to do next? I have a sort of hazy idea that we did not make ourselves as popular as we might have done yesterday."

      "I think you managed to openly insult nine-tenths of the population, if that's what you mean."

      "Very likely. It's the effect of a public school education, you know. But to return to my question, what are we going to do next?"

      "Directly civilization gets up I'm going into the township."

      "In search of breakfast?"

      "No; in search of employment."

      "The deuce! I must indeed have been drunk yesterday not to have noticed this change coming over you. And pray what do you want to work for?"

      "Because I have made up my mind to have done with this sort of life; because I want to save myself while there's time; because I want to be able to look the world in the face again. If you really are so anxious to know, that's why."

      "You remind me of our old friend the village blacksmith. Hadn't he some ambition that way, eh?

      "'He looked the whole world in the face,

       For he owed not any man!'

      Wasn't that it? I always did think him a bad business man. He didn't seem to realize that credit is the backbone of the commercial anatomy. Anyhow yours is a foolish reasoning—a very foolish reasoning. What possible desire can a man of your training have to look the world in the face? What will you see when you do look there? Only inquiries into your past, a distrust of your present, and a resolve to have no more to do with your future than is absolutely necessary. Personally, I find the world's back a good deal worthier of cultivation."

      "All the same I intend to try to find something to do."

      "Pray don't let me stop you. One more question, however: What does your Serene Mightiness intend for me? I doubt if I am a good worker, but I am at liberty to accept any remunerative post within your gift, Chancellorship of one of your Duchies, for instance; Mastership of your Imperial Majesty's Hounds; Keeper of the Privy Purse; Lord Cham——"

      "You can scoff as much as you please; you won't alter my determination. I am going now. Good-morning!"

      "Your majesty will find me still in waiting when you return unsuccessful."

      "Good-morning!"

      "If your Majesty has time to think about such mundane matters, your Majesty might endeavour to induce one of your confiding subjects to lend the Imperial kitchen a little flour. If I had it now I might be making a damper during your Majesty's absence."

      "Good-morning!"

      "Good-morning!"

      Ellison turned his face in the direction of the settlement and strode off round the hill. He had not the slightest expectation of finding any lucrative employment when he got there, but he was full of the desire to work. If he failed this time it should not be imputed against him as his own fault. He at least was eager, and if society did not give him the wherewithal upon which to spend his energy, then it must be set against his score with society. In the devotion of the present it seemed to him that all his past was atoned for and blotted out. And under the influence of this sudden glow of virtuous resolution he left the hill and entered the township.

      Already the sea-front was astir with the business of the new-born day. As he approached the principal store he descried the bulky figure of the proprietor upon the jetty, superintending the unloading of some cases from a boat lying alongside it. Pulling himself together he crossed the road and accosted him.

      "Mr. Tugwell, I believe?" he began, raising his tattered cabbage-tree with a touch of his old politeness.

      The merchant turned and looked him up and down.

      "Yes, that is certainly my name. What can I do for you?"

      "I am in search of employment. I thought perhaps you could help me."

      "I don't seem to remember your face, somehow. You are a stranger in the island?"

      "I only arrived yesterday. I am an Englishman. I don't want to whine, but I might add that I was once an English gentleman."

      "Dear me! You look as if you had been making rough weather of it lately."

      "Very. As a proof, I may tell you that I have not eaten a mouthful since I landed from my boat yesterday morning."

      "What can you do? I am in want of an experienced hand to pack shell. Can you qualify?"