The Classic Mystery Collection - Arthur Conan Doyle [1832]
Turlington still persisted.
"I must once more request--seriously request--that you will check this growing intimacy. I don't object to your asking him to the house when you ask other friends. I only wish you (and expect you) to stop his 'dropping in,' as it is called, any hour of the day or evening when he may have nothing to do. Is that understood between us?"
"If you make a point of it, Richard, of course it's understood between us."
Launce looked at Natalie, as weak Sir Joseph consented in those words.
"What did I tell you?" he whispered.
Natalie hung her head in silence. There was a pause in the conversation on deck. The two gentlemen walked away slowly toward the forward part of the vessel.
Launce pursued his advantage.
"Your father leaves us no alternative," he said. "The door will be closed against me as soon as we get on shore. If I lose you, Natalie, I don't care what becomes of me. My profession may go to the devil. I have nothing left worth living for."
"Hush! hush! don't talk in that way!"
Launce tried the soothing influence of persuasion once more.
"Hundreds and hundreds of people in our situation have married privately--and have been forgiven afterward," he went on. "I won't ask you to do anything in a hurry. I will be guided entirely by your wishes. All I want to quiet my mind is to know that you are mine. Do, do, do make me feel sure that Richard Turlington can't take you away from me."
"Don't press me, Launce." She dropped on the locker. "See!" she said. "It makes me tremble only to think of it!"
"Who are you afraid of, darling? Not your father, surely?"
"Poor papa! I wonder whether he would be hard on me for the first time in his life?" She stopped; her moistening eyes looked up imploringly in Launce's face. "Don't press me!" she repeated faintly. "You know it's wrong. We should have to confess it--and then what would happen?" She paused again. Her eyes wandered nervously to the deck. Her voice dropped to its lowest tones. "Think of Richard!" she said, and shuddered at the terrors which that name conjured up. Before it was possible to say a quieting word to her, she was again on her feet. Richard's name had suddenly recalled to her memory Launce's mysterious allusion, at the outset of the interview, to the owner of the yacht. "What was that you said about Richard just now?" she asked. "You saw something (or heard something) strange while papa was telling his story. What was it?"
"I noticed Richard's face, Natalie, when your father told us that the man overboard was not one of the pilot-boat's crew. He turned ghastly pale. He looked guilty--"
"Guilty? Of what?"
"He was present--I am certain of it--when the sailor was thrown into the sea. For all I know, he may have been the man who did it."
Natalie started back in horror.
"Oh, Launce! Launce! that is too bad. You may not like Richard--you may treat Richard as your enemy. But to say such a horrible thing of him as that--It's not generous. It's not like _you_."
"If you had seen him, you would have said it too. I mean to make inquiries--in your father's interests as well as in ours. My brother knows one of the Commissioners of Police, and my brother can get it done for me. Turlington has not always been in the Levant trade--I know that already."
"For shame, Launce! for shame!"
The footsteps on deck were audible coming back. Natalie sprang to the door leading into the cabin. Launce stopped her, as she laid her hand on the lock. The footsteps went straight on toward the stern of the vessel. Launce clasped both arms round her. Natalie gave way.
"Don't drive me to despair!" he said. "This is my last opportunity. I don't ask you to say at once that you will marry me, I only ask you to think of it. My darling! my angel! will you think of it?"
As he put the question, they might have heard (if they had not been too completely engrossed