on the firing line-第2部分
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and his wife。 He is the pompous old Englishman across the table。 I'll get Carew to introduce us； and perhaps they will let us go ashore with them。〃
〃But are they going？〃 she asked irresolutely。
〃Surely。 We have three hours here。 I know Carew's mother well； she and Mrs。 Scott were schoolmates at Madame Prather's in London。〃
She looked up with sudden interest。
〃Madame Prather's？ That is where I have been； for the past five years。〃
〃Then we are all right；〃 Weldon said coolly。 〃The arrangement is made。 Carew is the only missing link。 Excuse me； and I will go in search of him。〃
It was high noon when the Dunottar Castle finally weighed anchor at Funchal and started on her long； unbroken voyage to the southward。 Side by side in the stern； Weldon and Ethel looked back at the blue harbor dotted with the myriad little boats； at the quaint town backed with its amphitheatre of sunlit hills and； poised on the summit； the church where Nossa Senhora do Monte keeps watch and ward over the town beneath。 Ethel's experience was the broader for her hilarious ride in a bullock…drawn palanquin。 Weldon's experience was more instructive。 It taught him that； her hat awry and her yellow hair loosened about her laughing face； Ethel Dent was tenfold more attractive than when she made her usual decorous entrance to the dining…room。
Mrs。 Scott had been a willing chaperon and an efficient one。 Nevertheless； as they stood together in the stern； looking out across the gold…flecked sea； Weldon felt that he had made a long stride； that morning； towards acquaintance with his companion。 And； even now； the voyage was nearly all before them。
As if in answer to his thoughts； she lifted her eyes to his face。
〃Twelve more days！〃 she said slowly。
〃Are you sorry？〃
She shook her head。
〃Glad and sorry both。 I love the sea； but home is at the end of it。〃
〃You live out there？〃 he asked。
She smiled at the question。 〃Yes； if out there means Cape Town。 At least； my parents live there。〃
〃How long have you been in England？〃 he queried； while； abandoning all pretence of interest in the fast…vanishing town； he turned his back to the rail in order to face his companion more directly。
〃Always； except for one year； six years ago； and a summersummer in England； I meantwo years later。〃
Rather inconsequently； Weldon attacked the side issue suggested by her words。
〃How does it seem to have one's seasons standing on their heads？〃
She answered question with question。 〃Haven't you been out before？〃
〃No。〃
〃I supposed you had taken the voyage any number of times。 But about the seasons； it doesn't count for much until you come to Christmas。 No England…born mortal can hang up his stocking in mid…summer without a pang of regretful homesickness。〃
Weldon laughed。
〃Do you substitute a refrigerator for a chimney corner？〃 he asked。 〃But are you England…born？〃
〃Yes。 My father went out only seven years ago。 The 'home' tradition is so strong that I was sent back to school and for a year of social life。 My little brother goes to Harrow in two years。 Even in Cape Town； a few people still hold true to the tradition of the public school。〃
Weldon nodded assent。
〃We meet it in Canada； now and then； not too often； though。 So in reality you are almost as much a stranger to Cape Town as I am。〃
〃Quite。 My father says it is all changed now。 It used to be a lazy little place； now it is pandemonium； soldiers and supplies going out； time…expired men and invalids coming in。 Mr。 Weldon〃
His questioning smile answered the pause in her sentence。
〃Well？〃 he asked； after a prolonged interval。
Her teeth shut on her lower lip； she stared at the wide blue sea with wide blue eyes。 Something in its restless tossing； in the changing lights that darted back to her from the crests of the waves； seemed to be holding her in an hypnotic trance。 Out of the midst of the trance she spoke again； and it was plain to Weldon； as he listened to her low； intent voice； that her thoughts were not upon the sea nor yet upon him。
〃It ought to terrify me；〃 she said。 〃I mean the war； of course。 I ought to dread the going out into the atmosphere of it。 I don't。 Sometimes I think I must have fighting blood in my veins。 Instead of being frightened at what my father writes me； I feel stirred by it all； as if I were ready for anything。 I went out to Aldershot； one day last year； but that was only so many dainty frills； so much playing soldier。 That's not what I mean at all。〃 Turning suddenly； she looked up directly into Weldon's dark gray eyes。 〃One of my cousins wants to be a nurse。 She lives at Piquetberg Road； but she has been visiting friends who live in Natal on the edge of the fighting； where she has seen things as they happen。 In her last letter； she told me that she was only waiting for my uncle's permission to go out as a nurse。〃
〃Is that what you would do？〃
Her head lifted itself proudly。
〃No。 She can take care of the wounded men； if she chooses。 For my part； I'd rather cheer on the men who are starting for the front。 If I could know that one man； one single man； fought the better for having known me； I should feel as if I had done my share。〃
She spoke with fiery vigor； then her eyes dropped again to the dancing waves。 When at length she spoke again； she was once more the level…voiced English girl who sat next him at the table。
〃You are going out to Cape Town to stay； Mr。 Weldon？〃 she asked； with an accent so utterly conventional that Weldon almost doubted his own ears。
〃To stay until the war ends；〃 he replied； in an accent as conventional as her own。
〃In Cape Town？〃 Then she felt her eyes drawn to meet his eyes； as he answered quietly；
〃I shall do my best to make myself a place in the firing line。〃
Again her conventionality vanished； and she gave him her hand； as if to seal a compact。
〃I hope you will win it and hold it；〃 she responded slowly。 〃I can wish you nothing better。〃
CHAPTER TWO
A berugged； bedraggled bundle of apologies； Miss Ophelia Arthur lay prone in her steamer chair； her cheeks pale； her eyes closed。 Her conscience； directed towards the interests of her charge； demanded her presence on deck。 Once on deck and apparently on guard； Miss Arthur limply subsided into a species of coma。 Her charge； meanwhile； rosy and alert； sat in the lee of a friendly ventilating shaft。 Beside her； also in the lee of the ventilating shaft； sat Mr。 Harvard Weldon。
The past week had been full of the petty events which make up life on shipboard。 The trail of smoke from a passing steamer； the first shoal of flying fish； the inevitable dance； the equally inevitable concert and； most inevitable of all； the Sabbatic contest between the captain and the fresh…water clergyman who insists upon reading service： all these are old details； yet ever new。 Throughout them all； Weldon had sturdily maintained his place at Ethel's side。 By tacit consent； the girl had been transferred to the motherly care of Mrs。 Scott who； after a keen inspection of Weldon； had decided that it was safe to take upon trust this clean…eyed； long…legged Canadian who was so obviously well…born and well…bred。
Now and then Carew joined the group； but the handsome； dashing young fellow had no mind to play the part of second violin。 He would be concertmaster or nothing。 Accordingly； he withdrew to the rival corner where a swarthy little French girl maintained her court without help from any apparent chaperonage whatsoever。 Left in possession of the field； Weldon made the most of his chances。 The acknowledged attendant of Ethel； his jovial ministrations overflowed to Mrs。 Scott； until the sedate colonel's wife admitted to herself that no such pleasant voyage had fallen to her lot since the days when she had started for India on her wedding journey。 Weldon had the consummate tact to keep the taint of the filial from his chivalry。 His attentions to Mrs。 Scott and Ethel differed in degree； but not in kind； and Mrs。 Scott adored him accordingly。 One by one； the languid days dropped into the past。 Neptune had duly escorted them over the Line； to the boredom of the first…class passengers and the strident mirth of the rest of the ship's colony。 Winter was already behind them； and the late December days took on more and more of the guise of summer； as the log marked their passing to the southward。 To many on board； the idle passage was a winter holiday； but to Weldon and Carew and a dozen more stalwart fellows； those quiet days were the hush before the breaking of the storm。 Home； school； the university were behind them； before them lay the crash of war。 And afterwards？ Glory； or death。 Their healthy； boyish optimism could see no third alternative。
For ten long days； Miss Ophelia Arthur lay prone in her berth。 Her hymnal and her Imitation lay beside her； but she read less than she pondered； and she invariably pondered with her eyes closed and her mouth ajar。 On the eleventh day； however； she gathered herself together and went on deck。 With anxious care Weldon tucked the rugs about her elderly frame。 Then he exchanged a glance with Ethel and together they sought the shelter of the ventilating shaft。
Nothing shows the temperature more surely than the tint of the gray sea
