AFLOAT.
It was a pleasant trip for waterman and freight. Over-handed sculls,
light sitter, and buoyant boat, Frank laid himself out to his work as if
he liked it; and Miss Ross, dipping her white fingers in the pleasant
ripple, looked kindly into the oarsman's eyes, while her lissome figure
bent and swayed in graceful unison with his stroke.
Steadily, smoothly, swimmingly, they shot on, through deep, cool, silent
shade, where overhanging boughs bent longingly towards the laughing
waters as they ran past; across broad burnished sheets of gold, where
dazzling sunshine flashed and glittered on the stream; over placid
pools, translucent and serene, where the drooping water-lily scarce
ruffled a languid petal to kiss the lingering current stealing by; under
high fragrant banks, rich in tints of pearl and pink, emerald and ruby,
of all the brightest, fairest hues that Nature lavishes on the flower,
like the gem; past lawn and villa, past water-mill and meadow land, past
nibbling sheep and wading cattle, a barking dog, a boat-house, an
unsuccessful angler in a punt; and so to a fair expanse of smooth
untroubled water, a mile below the lock.
There are voyages on which we all embark unconsciously to ourselves,
careless of life-belt or sea-stores, making no provision for the climes
to which they lead; voyages that begin with a fair wind, a summer sea,
and a smiling sky; that end, too often, in loss of crew and cargo, in
shipwreck, disaster, and despair. Miss Ross, though she scarcely
suspected it, had even now set foot on a plank which was to sink with
her hereafter, and leave her choking in the dark pitiless waves.
"_Isn't_ it nice?" said she, taking off a jaunty little hat, to smooth
her hair back with dripping hands. "I delight in the motion--something
between swimming and riding. I should like to row, myself. Don't you
find it hard work? You _must_ be tired. Let us stop here a little in the
shade."
A longer pull would have failed to tire Frank, who was no mean waterman,
and in excellent condition,
"But then the situation had its charm,"
and to rest in the shade with Miss Ross was no unpleasant break in a
day's work.
She fanned him with her hat, rocking the boat to and fro as it lay under
the bank, sheltered by a thick screen of fragrant, flickering lime
branches.
"I can't thank you enough," continued Jin, in her most winning tones.
"I'm so fond of the water, I think I was meant for a sailor. I should
like to go on it every day."
"I'll take you!" said Frank, as what else could he say? "Every day, and
all day long. Shall we fix to-morrow, at the same place and the same
time?" He was laughing, but thought, nevertheless, it would be no bad
way of spending the summer, while so unfortunate as to be quartered at
Windsor. Ah! if it had only been Helen! But it wasn't. So there was no
use in thinking about that!
"We can't always do what we like," answered Jin, looking pensively into
the depths of the Thames. "At least women can't--certainly I can't!
Think how I should be pitched into when I got home! You wouldn't like me
to be scolded for your sake, Captain Vanguard?"
"I think I _should_," replied the inexcusable young officer. "I think I
should like to scold you myself, if I had the right."
"Ah! you'd like making up again, I dare say!" laughed Jin, and, with
that, the black eyes delivered one telling shot straight into Frank's,
and were instantly averted.
"We'll quarrel as much as you please, on those terms," said he gaily,
and, for aught I can guess, might have proceeded to premature
reconciliation forthwith, but that she knew the game so well, and
checked him at the right moment.
"I quarrel with my _friends_, Captain Vanguard," she objected; "and you
are only an acquaintance as yet. It takes me a long time to become
really intimate with people. I wonder if I should like you more when I
knew you better?"
"I'm sure you would," answered Frank, rattling the boat's chain, as he
prepared for work again. "You would improve me so, do you see; and I am
so willing to be improved. You wouldn't be able to do without me in a
week."
"I don't think that would be a good plan," she said, in rather a
mournful tone, gazing dreamily at him with her great black eyes, as if
she saw miles into the future. "I can take good care of myself--nobody
better. But if I like people at all I like them very much. It's my
nature--I wish it wasn't."
"Then you don't like _me_ at all?" he replied, in a low voice, bending
down to alter the stretcher at his feet. "Just my luck!" Why couldn't he
leave edged tools alone? Like a very child, he must needs play with
them, only because they lay to his hand. How we all cut our fingers
without the slightest occasion long after we believe ourselves old
enough and wise enough to run alone!
"If I did, I shouldn't tell you so," answered Jin, lowering her voice in
harmony with his. "Do you think a woman never keeps a secret? Captain
Vanguard, I can't quite make you out; you puzzle me more than anybody I
know."
Frank, sculling leisurely on, began to think this was very pleasant. It
gratified him to suppose there should be depths unfathomed in his
character; it flattered him to learn that this clever, accomplished
woman had thought it worth while to try and search them to the bottom.
Perhaps the exercise flushed it a little, but there was a very becoming
colour in his face while he replied:
"The plainest fellow in the world, Miss Ross, and the honestest, as
you'll find, when you know me better. I may chaff a little sometimes,
like other people, but everybody can tell what's chaff and what's
earnest. _You_ can, I'm sure."
She nodded and smiled. "Are you in earnest _now_?" she said, looking
with real pleasure into the comely, honest young face.
"I am, I'll swear!" he exclaimed, forgetting that nothing had yet been
spoken to be earnest about. "What I think I say, and what I say I mean!"
"I wish--no--I wonder, whether I can believe you," she answered very
softly, and again the black eyes seemed to pierce right through his
jersey to his heart.
Meanwhile their boat shot merrily over the dead water, urged by her
oarsman's skilled and vigorous strokes. Jin watched with critical
approval the play of his muscular shoulders, the ease and freedom of his
movements, the strength, symmetry, and youthful vitality of the man.
"Do you like poetry?" she asked, after a minute's silence.
"Poetry?" repeated Frank doubtfully. "I don't mind it," but qualified
the admission by adding, "glees, and songs, and that."
She was rather thinking aloud than speaking to her companion, while she
continued:
"I always admire that description of the Scandinavian warrior's
accomplishments: there is something so simple about it, and so manly:
'These arts are mine, to wield the steel,
To curb the warlike horse;
To swim the lake, or skate on heel,
To urge my rapid course;
To draw the bow, to fling the spear,
To brush with oar the main:
All these are mine, and shall I bear
A Danish maid's disclaim?'
I wonder, for my part, that the Danish maid could resist him."
"Oh, I don't!" answered Frank. "Danish maids are pretty tough, I should
think; spotted too, probably, like Danish dogs. Who did you say the
fellow was, and what did he brush?"
"I said he was a soldier," replied Miss Ross demurely. "Most likely a
mounted volunteer."
"And who was the lady?--the Danish maid, I mean."
"I don't know--I wish _I_ was!" she answered, with a sigh.
Frank pondered, resting on his oars. It was not this young officer's
habit to puzzle his wits unnecessarily in the solution of intricate
problems, and whatever genius he possessed was in no way akin to that of
a mathematician, who takes pleasure in the actual process by which
results are worked out. To ride a comrade's horse "truly through" in a
steeple-chase, to make the most of his own in a run, to lead his
squadron straight, and as fast as his colonel would permit, to have his
troop at the highest possible pitch of efficiency, befriending the men,
pacifying their wives, and keeping an especial eye on buckles, to drive
the regimental coach without "putting it over," and never to turn his
back on a friend, comprised the simple articles of his creed; nor, until
he met Helen Hallaton at her father's house, had it ever entered his
head there could be an interest in life more engrossing than regimental
duty and field-sports. But he was learning to _think_ now, and, like all
beginners, found himself somewhat at sea in the process.
What was this strange, subtle intoxication of the brain, rather than the
heart, which stole over him so gently, while he looked in that pale,
eager, restless face, not a yard off, over the stretcher yonder, turned
so wistfully towards his own, while he caught the tones of that low,
pleading voice, blending so musically with the jerk of his oars, the
leap and gurgle of the stream beneath his prow? Was this the enchantment
he had a vague recollection of as practised by the Syrens in his
school-books, by the Mermaidens of nursery lore, by the Ondines and
Lurlines, the Wilis and Walpurgis of the stage? Must he learn so soon,
while yet in the flush of youth and hope, that the coquette is immortal
as the vampire, equally thirsty, tenacious, and insatiable? Was this the
same mysterious influence exercised on him by Miss Hallaton? or was it
not rather a dazzling and illusive imitation, resembling truth as the
scenery of a theatre resembles Nature's landscapes; its tinsel and
glitter, the splendour of real gems and gold? Well, it was no use
troubling one's head about these matters. If you once begin analysing,
what becomes of everything we call pleasure? Who would drink wine if he
knew how it was made, or, indeed, a glass of pure water, if he reflected
on the mingled gases and impurities of which that innocent element is
composed?
Sculling on towards the lock, Frank Vanguard was content to leave his
own questions unanswered, and abandon himself to the claims of his
companion and the fascination of the hour.
With her it was different. Young in years, Miss Ross was yet an old
stager in that broad road between the roses, along which it is all down
hill. She had travelled it many a time, usually at her own pace, and, so
to speak, with horses perfectly well broke. She knew, none better, each
smiling nook, each romantic peep of the country on either side,--this
awkward turn, that comfortable resting-place, when to put the drag on
with judicious caution, where to make the most of her ground at a
gallop. She liked to feel her blood stir to the old familiar pastime
once more, liked it none the worse that the team was getting out of her
hand, the pace no longer at her own control.
All the while it was no more the real Frank Vanguard who excited these
welcome sensations in her ill-regulated mind than it was Uncle Joseph,
or young Goldthred, or Punch! Men and women, we are but children in our
dearest dreams, and Jin was no wiser than the rest of us. She had
dressed her doll in the gaudy habiliments that suited her own taste, and
persuaded herself the creation of her fancy was a tangible and existing
truth.
Frank Vanguard seemed at present her ideal of the robust Scandinavian,
polished up a little and modernised, of course. It would be a duty, she
considered, to sacrifice him in accordance with her principles of
manslaughter. It would be a pleasure to watch the tortures of her victim
at the stake. Perhaps, after all, she would grant him a milder
punishment than the rest. She wondered more than ever at the northern
girl's insensibility to her stalwart admirer.
"No," she murmured, after a pause, during which Frank had set the boat
going once more; "I don't think I should have snubbed him long, if I had
been the Danish maid."
"I believe you _are_ the Danish maid!" said he. "You're not _quite_
English, I'm sure, though I can't tell how I know. You're not Scotch,
for you don't speak the language. Welsh? No. You're scarcely my idea of
a Welsh woman; at least, judging by those I've seen with wooden collars
and milkpails in London."
"Guess again."
"Irish; that's it. 'Kathleen Mavourneen,' 'Arrah na Pogue,' 'Norah
Creina,' and 'The Shan Van Voght!'"
"You might have added, 'Teddy, you Gander,'" she replied, laughing. "No;
what should make you think I'm Irish? I never was in Ireland in my life?
I don't mind telling _you_ I'm more a French woman than anything else.
In honest truth, I've no country, no relations, no belongings, no
friends," and she carolled out in her rich clear voice--
"I care for nobody, no, not I,
And nobody cares for me."
"That's impossible!" exclaimed Frank, pushing the boat out of certain
shallows into which he had inadvertently guided it, with the blade of
his oar, and looking over his shoulder to see how far the lock was
ahead. "That's simply impossible!" he repeated, as they shot back into
deep water, where, nevertheless, the stream ran very swift and strong.
"I should say a great many people did. More than you think, I am sure.
Steady! Miss Ross. Let him alone, please! He'll swamp us in two seconds,
if he tries to come on board. Ah! I thought how it would be; and, of
course, she can't swim!"
The last sentence Frank sputtered out with a mouthful of Thames water,
shaking his head the while, to clear his eyes, as he came to the surface
from an immersion, sudden as involuntary, consequent on the indiscreet
proceedings of his passenger. Since the adventure of Leda down to our
own times, when Landseer has consigned him to an immortality of
suffering in the eagle's clutch, it appears that the swan has been a
consistent admirer of beauty, both in and out of his proper element. He
drew the car of Venus, he piloted the galley of Cleopatra, he spied Miss
Ross glittering like a jewel on the bosom of Father Thames. Exasperated,
as it would seem, by Vanguard's good fortune, he made rapidly for the
boat containing this treasure, wreathing his neck, ruffling his wings in
angry curves, and tearing up the water like a river steamboat. Miss Ross
laughed merrily, and splashed the enemy with considerable energy. The
swan advanced, the lady leaned over, Frank backed water hard with one
scull, a heavy lurch, a little scream, a sway, a surge, and the rushing
stream rose over the boat's side from stem to stern, while a wisp of
muslins, a gaudy hat, and a tangle of black hair, were already
splashing, struggling, sinking, a dozen yards farther down the river in
the direction of London and the Nore. Frank was a good swimmer, Miss
Ross possessed courage and presence of mind. The shallows were close,
and a punt was already putting out from the neighbouring lock, where the
man in charge had a view of the accident, nevertheless it was not
without the exertion of considerable strength and skill, without great
personal risk, a very sufficient wetting, and the swallowing of at least
a quart of dirty water, that Vanguard succeeded in placing the lady on
her feet in the shallows before mentioned, thanking Heaven fervently in
his heart that they were not five strokes farther off, and that he had
been enabled to reach them with his burden by aid of a strong stream
running in his favour. Draggled, limp, exhausted, dripping from top to
toe, Miss Ross clung tight to her preserver, with the more reason that
although the stream here scarcely reached her knees, it ran so hard she
found some difficulty in keeping her feet. She behaved, thought Frank,
very pluckily and well. No nonsense, no hysterics, no theatrical
gratitude of gasps and groans. She held one of his hands, indeed, very
tight, and her face was paler than ever, but she only said:
"How stupid of me to upset the boat! What a ducking we've both had,
Captain Vanguard! You'll never take me on the water again."
"_Won't_ I?" thought Frank, helping her into the punt which had now
come to the rescue, and wondering at the masses of black hair, released
and straightened by immersion, that hung round her in such unusual
length and volume.
Like most bachelors, Frank entertained exaggerated notions as to
feminine delicacy, both of mind and body. In the present instance, he
was satisfied that unless Miss Ross could be enveloped in blankets,
dosed with hot brandy-and-water, and taken home on the instant, death
must inevitably ensue. Assisted by the lock's-man and his wife, who,
without partaking of his fears, joined heartily in his exertions, he had
Miss Ross swathed up like a mummy in less than ten minutes; and, by her
own desire, helped her to walk the short distance between the lock and
The Lilies at as good a pace, and, indeed, almost with the same results,
as if they had been waltzing. Frank found so much to think of, that it
was not till he reached the gate he remembered his own dishevelled
plight, and the unusual costume, or rather want of it, in which he
meditated a morning call. Reflecting that his straw hat was gone, that
he was bare to the shoulders, that his dress consisted only of a light
jersey, flannel trowsers, and canvas shoes, the whole of which, after
being thoroughly saturated, had dried on a dusty road, he was perhaps
hardly disappointed to learn that the ladies were at the races, and
nobody had stayed at home except Mrs. Lascelles's maid.
"Then I'll wish you good-bye, Miss Ross," said Frank. "I can't do
anything more for you now. Only mind you go to bed till dinner-time, and
I hope you haven't caught cold."
"Won't you come in?" asked Miss Ross. "They'll give you some sherry, or
brandy, or whatever you ought to have. I'm sure you must want it."
"Never felt so well in my life!" he answered gaily. "Besides, I must go
back to recover my floating capital: jacket, hat, boat, stretcher, and
pair of sculls, not to mention your pretty parasol. They were all
swimming different ways when I saw them last, but I dare say they'll get
together again on this side of Staines. We landed the cargo, which was
the great thing, but I wish we could have managed to keep it dry."
He was turning away, with a light laugh, when she called him back. "I've
never thanked you," said she, "but I know you risked your own life
to-day to save mine. If you had lost it--I--I should like to have gone
down too!"
He started. There was a tremble in her voice that seemed very strange to
him, nor was the sensation without its charm; but he had not yet
contemplated the subject from this romantic point of view, so he could
think of no better answer than to put out his hand.
She caught it eagerly, and for one half-second pressed it against her
heart, while she murmured:
"Good-bye, Captain Vanguard, good-bye; when shall I see you again?"
The dark, pleading eyes were turned on him so kindly, the pale,
bewitching face was drawing so near his own--close, closer yet, as he
bent towards it--and so their lips met in one long, clinging, and
totally unjustifiable kiss. Then Miss Ross, blushing to her ears,
scudded up-stairs like a lap-wing, while Frank walked dreamily away from
the front door, feeling as if he had behaved very badly about something
or somebody, and couldn't bring his mind to regret it as he ought.