“Hold your tongue! what is it to you, at any rate?” and she resumed her
crying. Eric was so flabbergasted that he had not a word to say, but
stood looking particularly foolish, with his mouth open and his hands
held out with the coin still between them. All were silent till Sarah,
taking her hands from her face laughed hysterically and said:
“As you two can’t make up your minds, I’m going home!” and she turned
to go.
“Stop,” said Abel, in an authoritative voice. “Eric, you hold the coin,
and I’ll cry. Now, before we settle it, let us clearly understand: the
man who wins takes all the money that we both have got, brings it to
Bristol and ships on a voyage and trades with it. Then he comes back
and marries Sarah, and they two keep all, whatever there may be, as the
result of the trading. Is this what we understand?”
“Yes,” said Eric.
“I’ll marry him on my next birthday,” said Sarah. Having said it the
intolerably mercenary spirit of her action seemed to strike her, and
impulsively she turned away with a bright blush. Fire seemed to sparkle
in the eyes of both men. Said Eric: “A year so be! The man that wins is
to have one year.”
“Toss!” cried Abel, and the coin spun in the air. Eric caught it, and
again held it between his outstretched hands.
“Heads!” cried Abel, a pallor sweeping over his face as he spoke. As he
leaned forward to look Sarah leaned forward too, and their heads almost
touched. He could feel her hair blowing on his cheek, and it thrilled
through him like fire. Eric lifted his upper hand; the coin lay with
its head up. Abel stepped forward and took Sarah in his arms. With a
curse Eric hurled the coin far into the sea. Then he leaned against the
flagstaff and scowled at the others with his hands thrust deep into his
pockets. Abel whispered wild words of passion and delight into Sarah’s
ears, and as she listened she began to believe that fortune had rightly
interpreted the wishes of her secret heart, and that she loved Abel
best.
Presently Abel looked up and caught sight of Eric’s face as the last
ray of sunset struck it. The red light intensified the natural
ruddiness of his complexion, and he looked as though he were steeped in
blood. Abel did not mind his scowl, for now that his own heart was at
rest he could feel unalloyed pity for his friend. He stepped over
meaning to comfort him, and held out his hand, saying:
“It was my chance, old lad. Don’t grudge it me. I’ll try to make Sarah
a happy woman, and you shall be a brother to us both!”
“Brother be damned!” was all the answer Eric made, as he turned away.
When he had gone a few steps down the rocky path he turned and came
back. Standing before Abel and Sarah, who had their arms round each
other, he said:
“You have a year. Make the most of it! And be sure you’re in time to
claim your wife! Be back to have your banns up in time to be married on
the 11th April. If you’re not, I tell you I shall have my banns up, and
you may get back too late.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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