CHAPTER XXX.
A HEART OF SYMPATHY.
It was a stroke of the rarest good fortune that Laurier and Jessie should be saved by a homeward-bound steamer—the Scythia, going straight to New York.
What a sensation they created when the passengers discovered them floating in the water on the poor raft formed of the plank and the spar.
A boat was quickly lowered, and they were drawn into it with all speed, and, oh, what pity and kindness was showered on them after their long exposure and peril!
The men took charge of Laurier, and the women of Jessie, every one eager to contribute dry clothing and administer all needed comforts.
All were strangers alike to Jessie, but among the passengers Laurier found several acquaintances, people he had met in London barely a week ago, and whom he knew intimately in New York.
Laurier satisfied their curiosity by a straightforward recital of the burning of the Atlanta, then he was glad enough to have a warm meal and to be left to rest in his stateroom, where, spent and weary, he remained until late next morning.
When he came on deck in a fairly well-fitting suit of clothing contributed by a friend, he looked about anxiously for Jessie, hoping she was well enough to come out this bright, sunny morning.
But she was not visible.
“Miss Lyndon is not well enough to come out to-day. The doctor thinks she should rest in her stateroom till to-morrow,” he was told.
He could hardly wait till to-morrow to see her again, he was so impatient.
Meanwhile Jessie, really ill from fatigue and grief over her father’s unknown fate, rested until next day, her retirement enlivened by the visits of the ladies who vied with each other in their attentions and condolences, every one having fallen in love with the beautiful stranger.
They thought it most romantic that such a handsome pair as Laurier and Jessie should have been cast away together at sea.
“Such an incident should end most naturally in love and marriage,” declared Miss Chanler, who was a very romantic girl.
“What a pity that Miss Ellyson should be in the way!” added Mrs. de Vries, a young society matron in Laurier’s set.
Jessie’s large eyes had an inquiring expression that moved her to add further:
“Of course, you know all about his engagement?”
“No, I do not. I never met him until on shipboard,” Jessie answered with seeming indifference.
“And you did not really know that he is going home to marry a girl he has been engaged to over two years?”
“No,” Jessie answered carelessly.
“Then we must tell you about it. The story is quite romantic, if it will not tire you to hear it.”
“Not at all,” she answered calmly, glad that they could not notice her agitation.
So he was not married to proud, scornful Cora yet? She wondered why, and listened eagerly to Mrs. de Vries as she rattled on and told all that had happened as we already know.
As Mrs. de Vries finished her dramatic recital, a quick sob followed from Jessie, who was weeping the tears that rise from a tender heart over her rival’s calamity.
“Oh, I did wrong to unnerve you so. Forgive me,” the lady cried repentantly.
“It is so dreadful!” Jessie sobbed, in answer, and for some moments she found it impossible to command her feelings.
Then she stifled the bursting sobs, murmuring faintly:
“It was so distressing I could not help it!”
“It does credit to your tender heart, dear girl, but do not forget that the story is going to end happily after all.”
A flood of sympathy for Frank Laurier’s troubles had been aroused in Jessie’s heart, blotting out all her passionate resentments.
“How he has suffered through the sufferings of the proud beauty he loved so well! And she, too, has atoned for all her heartlessness in the ordeal she has passed through. I pity them too much to hate them any longer, and when we meet to-morrow I will be very kind to him,” she thought.
It was just what Laurier had been wishing—that she would be kind to him when they met again.
The next morning she came on deck in a pretty gown of Miss Chanler’s that had been altered to fit by a clever maid.
She looked lovely, though very, very pale still, as she went up to Laurier with frankly extended hand.
“I am much better, and I thank you for saving my life,” she faltered, with naïve directness.
“The opportunity made me very happy,” he answered, pressing the little hand warmly as he led her to a steamer chair, and lingered by her side, secretly jealous of every admiring glance that came her way.
But how could he blame them for feasting their eyes on such flawless beauty as Jessie Lyndon’s, as perfect as an opening flower!
No one could look into those deep, soft, dark eyes without a thrill at the heart; no one could gaze at the perfect, crimson lips without wishing to press a kiss on them, or to embrace the graceful young figure with the rounded slenderness of eighteen marking its lissom curves, while the wealth of wavy golden hair drew the eyes again and again in irresistible admiration.
But it seemed that even if Frank Laurier should fall in love with Jessie he would have several very formidable rivals.
Most of the eligible young men on board vied with each other in attentions to the newcomer.
They declared that she was the most beautiful creature ever seen, and it was plainly to be seen that she could have her pick and choice of lovers. It mattered not that she was very shy and quiet, grieving always over her father’s loss, they hovered about her like bees about a flower, while the ladies were also so charmed that they forgot to be jealous of the lovely girl.
If Laurier was jealous he dared not say so, but the other young fellows grumbled that just because Laurier had saved her life he tried to monopolize all her time—and what was the use?—for they all knew he was going home to marry an heiress, and there was no need to flirt with beautiful Miss Lyndon.
Jessie herself wondered why, under the circumstances, he paid her so much attention, but being devoid of vanity, she ascribed it to the natural kindliness of his heart, and was very sweet and gentle in return, telling herself he had been so kind she must not repulse him these last few days when they would soon be parted forever. There were times when she could not help feeling that every look and action breathed love, then she would chide herself for her vanity.
“I am as vain and silly as when I thought him in love with me before, because he showed me some meaningless attentions just to pique the girl he loved into jealousy. I must not fall into such a mistake again,” she mused, trying to curb her tempestuous heart that beat so fast at his impassioned glances.