<h2>CHAPTER XX<br/> <span class="f8">COMRADESHIP</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">“I want</span> you to promise me that you will not hide
yourself where I cannot find you. I have grave
reason for the request. Also, I want you, if
you will, to let some others know where you are.” At first
there was instinctive defiance in her mouth and nostrils.
Then her brows wrinkled in thought; the sequence was an
index to character which I could not but notice. However
the war was not long; reason, whatever was the outcome
of its dominance, triumphed over impulse. I
thought I could understand the logical process which led
to her spoken conclusion:</p>
<p>“You want to report me to ‘Uncle Sam’.”</p>
<p>“That’s about it!” I answered, and hurried on to give
her a reason before she made up her mind to object.</p>
<p>“Remember, my dear, that your nation is at war; and,
though you are at present safe in a country friendly to
both belligerents, there are evil-minded people in all countries
who will take advantage of anything unusual, to
work their own ends. That splendid gift of yours to the
nation, while it has made you a public favourite and won
for you millions of friends—and proposals—has yet made
for you a host of enemies. It is not as if you had given a
hospital-ship or an ambulance. Your gift belongs to
the war side and calls out active hatred; and no doubt
there are men banded together to do you harm. This
cannot be allowed. Your friends, and the nation as a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</SPAN></span>
whole, would take any step to prevent such a thing; but
they might all be powerless if you were hidden anywhere
where they could not find you.” As I spoke, Marjory
looked at me keenly, not with hostility, but with genuine
interest. When I had finished she said quietly:</p>
<p>“That is very well; but now tell me, dear”—how the
word thrilled me; it was the first time she had used it to
me—“did Sam Adams fill you up with that argument, or is
it your own? Don’t think me nasty; but I want to know
something of what is going on. Believe me, I am willing
to do all <em>you</em> wish if it is your own will; and I am
grateful for your thought for me. But I don’t want you
to be a mere mouthpiece for any party moves by the politicians
at home.”</p>
<p>“How do you mean?”</p>
<p>“My dear boy, I don’t suppose you know enough of
American politics to see how a certain lot would use to
their own advantage anything that came in their way.
Anybody or anything which the public takes an interest
in would be, and is, used by them unscrupulously. Why,
if the hangers-on to the war party wanted to make a show,
they might enroll my proposers and start a new battalion.”</p>
<p>“But,” I remonstrated, “you don’t think the Government
is like that?” In reply she smiled:</p>
<p>“I don’t altogether know about that. Parties are parties
all the world over. But of course the Washington
people wouldn’t do things that are done by local politicians.
And one other thing. Don’t imagine for a moment
that I think Sam Adams is anything of the kind.
He belongs to the service of the nation and takes his
orders from his chief. How can he, or any one fixed like
him, know the ins and outs of things; except from what
he hears privately from home, or gathers from what goes
on around him if he is cute?” It appeared to me that all
this was tending to establish an argument against taking<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</SPAN></span>
the American Embassy into confidence, so I struck in
before it should be complete. As I was not at liberty to
take Marjory into confidence with regard to my source
of information, I had to try to get her to agree to what I
thought right or necessary on other grounds:</p>
<p>“My dearest, can you not leave out politics, American
or otherwise. What on earth have politics to do with
us?” She opened her eyes in wonder; she was reasoning
better than I was. With an air of conviction she
said:</p>
<p>“Why, everything! If any one wants to do me harm,
it must be on the grounds of politics. I don’t believe
there is any one in the world who could want to injure
me on private grounds. Oh! my dear, I don’t want to
talk about it, not even to you; but all my life I have tried
to help other people in a quiet way. My guardians would
tell you that I have asked them for too much money to
give to charities; and personally I have tried to do what
a girl can in a helpful way to others. I have been in hospitals
and homes of all kinds; and I have classes of girls
in my own house and try to make them happier and better.
Archie, don’t think poorly of me for speaking like this;
but I couldn’t bear that <em>you</em> should think I had no sense
of the responsibility of great wealth. I have always
looked on it as a trust; and I hope, my dear, that in time
to come you will help me to bear the burden and to share
the trust!” I had thought up to now that I couldn’t love
her more than I did. But when I heard her words, and
recognised the high purpose that lay behind them, and
saw the sweet embarrassment which came to her in speaking
them to me, I felt that I had been mistaken. She
looked at me lovingly, and, holding my hand in both of
hers, went on:</p>
<p>“What then could hurt me except it came from the
political side. I could quite understand it if Spaniards<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</SPAN></span>
wished to harm me, for I have done what I can to hinder
them from murdering and torturing other victims. And
I could understand if some of our own low-down politicians
would try to use me as a stalking horse, though
they wouldn’t harm me. I want to keep clear of politics;
and I tell you frankly that I shall if I can.”</p>
<p>“But Marjory dear, there may be, I believe there
are, Spaniards who would try to harm you. If you were
in America you would be safer from them; for there at
present, whilst the war is on, every stranger is a marked
man. Here, on neutral ground, foreigners are free; and
they are not watched and observed in the same way. If
there were such fiends, and I am told there are, they
might do you a harm before any one could know their
intention or have time to forestall them.”</p>
<p>All the native independence of Marjory’s race and
nature stood out in strong relief as she answered me:</p>
<p>“My dear Archie, I come from a race of men who
have held their lives in their hands from the cradle to the
grave. My father, and my grandfather, and my great
grandfather were pioneers in Illinois, in Kentucky, in the
Rockies and California. They knew that there were
treacherous foes behind them every hour of their lives;
and yet they were not afraid. And I am not afraid either.
Their blood is in my veins, and speaks loudly to me when
any sense of fear comes near me. Their brains, as well as
their hands, kept guard on their lives; and my brains are
like theirs. I do not fear any foe, open or secret. Indeed,
when I think of a secret foe all the keenness of my people
wakes in me, and I want to fight. And this secret work
is a way in which a woman can fight in an age like ours.
If my enemies plot, I can counter-plot; if they watch
without faltering to catch me off guard, I can keep guard
unflinchingly. A woman can’t go out now-a-days, except
at odd times, and fight with weapons like Joan of Arc, or<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</SPAN></span>
the Maid of Saragossa; but she can do her fighting in her
own way, level with her time. I don’t see that if there is
to be danger around me, why I shouldn’t do as my ancestors
did, fight harder than their foes. Here! let me tell
you something now, that I intended to say later. Do you
know what race of men I come from? Does my name tell
you nothing? If not, then this will!”</p>
<p>She took from her neck, where again it had been concealed
by a lace collar, the golden jewel which I had rescued
from the sea. As I took it in my hand and examined
it she went on:</p>
<p>“That came to me from my father, who got it from his,
and he from his, on and on till our story of it, which is
only verbal, for we have no records, is lost in the legend
that it is a relic of the Armada brought to America by
two cousins who had married, both being of the family
to which the great Sir Francis Drake belonged. I didn’t
know, till lately, and none of us ever did, where exactly
in the family the last owners of the brooch came in, or
how they became possessed of such a beautiful jewel.
But you have told me in your translation of Don de Escoban’s
narrative. That was the jewel that Benvenuto
Cellini made in duplicate when he wrought the figurehead
for the Pope’s galley. The Pope gave it to Bernardino de
Escoban, and he gave it to Admiral Pedro de Valdes. I
have been looking up the history of the time since I saw
you, and I found that Admiral de Valdes when he was
taken prisoner by Sir Francis Drake at the fight with the
Armada was kept, pending his ransom, in the house of
Richard Drake, kinsman of Sir Francis. How the Drake
family got possession of the brooch I don’t know; but
anyhow I don’t suppose they stole it. They were a kindly
lot in private, any of them that I ever knew; though
when they were in a fight they fought like demons. The
old Spanish Dons were generous and free with their presents,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</SPAN></span>
and I take it that when Pedro de Valdes got his
ransom he made the finest gift he could to those who
had been kind to him. That is the way I figure it out.”</p>
<p>Whilst she was speaking, thoughts kept crowding in
upon me. Here was indeed the missing link in the chain of
Marjory’s connection with the hidden treasure; and here
was the beginning of the end of Gormala’s prophecy, for
as such I had come to regard it. The Fates were at work
upon us. Clotho was spinning the thread which was to
enmesh Marjory and myself and all who were in the
scheme of the old prophecy of the Mystery of the Sea
and its working out.</p>
<p>Once more the sense of impotence grew upon me. We
were all as shuttlecocks, buffeted to and fro without power
to alter our course. With the thought came that measure
of resignation which is the anodyne to despair. In a
sort of trance of passivity I heard Marjory’s voice run on:</p>
<p>“Therefore, my dear Archie, I will trust to you to
help me. The comradeship which has been between us,
will never through this grow less; though nearer and
dearer and closer ties may seem to overshadow it.”</p>
<p>I could not answer such reasoning; but I took her in
my arms and kissed her. I understood, as she did, that
my kisses meant acquiescence in her wishes. After a
while I said to her:</p>
<p>“One thing I must do. I owe it as a duty of honour
to tell my informant that I am unable to give your address
to the American Embassy, and that I cannot myself take
a part in anything which is to be done except by your
consent. But oh! my dear, I fear we are entering on a
dangerous course. We are all staying deliberately in the
dark, whilst there is light to be had; and we shall need all
the light which we can get.” Then a thought struck me
and I added, “By the way, I suppose I am free to give
information how I can, so long as you are not committed<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</SPAN></span>
or compromised?” She thought for quite a few minutes
before she answered. I could see that she was weighing
up the situation, and considering it from all points of
view. Then she said, putting both her hands in mine:</p>
<p>“In this, as in all ways, Archie, I know that I can
trust you. There is so much more than even this between
us, that I should feel mean to give it a thought hereafter!”</p>
<hr class="l1" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</SPAN></span></p>
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