"Yes, Miss Brisbane is going back to Washington, and Mr. Lawson will
follow, no doubt."
He unfolded his napkin with unmoved countenance. "Well, they are wise;
we are likely to have a norther any day now."
The soldier had all the responsibilities and perplexities he could
master without the addition of Elsie Brisbane's disturbing lure. The
value of her good opinion was enormously enhanced by the news of her
intended departure, and for a day or two Curtis went about his duties
with absent-minded ineffectiveness; he even detected himself once or
twice sitting with his pen in his hand creating aimless markings on his
blotting-pad. Wilson, the clerk, on one occasion waited full five
minutes for an answer while his chief debated with himself whether to
call upon Miss Brisbane at the studio or at the house. He began to find
excuses for her--"A man who is a villain in business may be a very
attractive citizen in private life--and she may have been very fond of
Sennett. From her point of view--anyhow, she is a lovely young girl,
and it is absurd to place her among my enemies." The thought of her face
set in bitter scorn against him caused his heart to contract painfully.
"I've been too harsh. These people are repugnant to one so dainty and
superrefined. There are excuses for her prejudice. I can't let her go
away in anger." And in this humble mood he stopped at the door of her
studio one morning, prepared to be very patient and very persuasive.
"Good-morning, Miss Brisbane. May I come in?"
"Certainly, if my work will interest you," she replied; "you'll excuse
my going on. I want to finish this portrait of Little Peta to-day."
"By all means--I do not intend to interrupt." He took a seat to the
front and a little to the left of her, and sat in silence for a few
moments. Her brown hair, piled loosely on her head, brought out the
exquisite fairness of her complexion, and the big, loose sleeve of her
blouse made her hand seem like a child's, but it was strong and steady.
She was working with her whole mind, breathing quickly as she mixed her
colors, holding her breath as she put her brush against the canvas. She
used the apparently aimless yet secure movement of the born painter.
With half-closed eyes and head a little to one side, with small hand
lifted to measure and compare, she took on a new expression, a
bewitching intentness, which quite transformed her.
"I hear you are going away," said Curtis at last, speaking with some
effort, uncertain of her temper.
"Yes, we break up and vacate to-morrow."
"Why break up? You will want to come back next spring. Leave the place
as it is."
She gave him a quick, keen glance, and put her head again on one side to
squint.
"I have no intention of returning."
"Have you exhausted Indian subjects?"
"Oh no!" she exclaimed, with sudden, artistic enthusiasm. "I have just
begun to see what I want to do."
"Then why not come back?" She did not reply, and he resumed, with tender
gravity: "I hope I haven't made it so unpleasant for you that you are
running away to escape _me_?"
She turned with a sharp word on her tongue, but he was so frank and so
handsome, and withal so humble, that she instantly relented. She was
used to this humility in men and knew the meaning thereof, and a flush
of gratified pride rose to her face. The proud soldier had become a
suitor like the others.
"Oh no--you have nothing to do with it," she replied, carelessly.
"I am glad of that. I was afraid you might think me unsympathetic, but I
am not. I am here this morning to offer you my cordial assistance, for I
am eager to see this people put into art. So far as I know, they have
never been adequately treated in painting or in sculpture."
"Thank you," she said, "I don't think I shall go very far with them.
They are very pleasant on canvas, but there are too many disagreeable
things connected with painting them. I don't see how you endure the
thought of living here among them." She shuddered. "I hate them!"
"I don't understand that hardness in you, Miss Brisbane," he replied.
"I'm sure it isn't mysterious. I hate dirt and rags, even when painted.
Now Little Peta here is quite different. She is a dear little thing. See
her sigh--she gets so tired, but she's patient."
"You are making a beautiful picture of her. Your skill is marvellous."
His method of approach was more adroit than he realized; she softened
yet again.
"Thank you. I seem to have hit her off very well."
"Will you exhibit in Washington this winter?" he asked, with boyish
eagerness.
"I may--I haven't quite decided," she said, quite off guard at last.
"If you do I wish you would let me know. I may be able to visit the
exhibition and witness your triumph."
She began to suspect his motives. "Oh, my little row of paintings
couldn't be tortured into a triumph. I've stolen the time for them from
Mr. Lawson, whose illustrations I have neglected." She was again cold
and repellent.
"Miss Brisbane, this whole situation has become intolerable to me." He
rose and faced her, very sincere and deeply earnest. "I do not like to
have you go away carrying an unpleasant impression of me. What can I do
to change it? If I have been boorish or presuming in any way I sincerely
beg your pardon."
She motioned to Peta. "You can go now, dear, I've done all I can
to-day."
Curtis took up his hat. "I hope I have not broken up your sitting. It
would be unpardonable in me."
She squinted back at the picture with professional gravity. "Oh no; I
only had a few touches to put in under the chin--that luminous shadow is
so hard to get. I'm quite finished."
She went behind a screen for a few moments, and when she reappeared
without her brushes and her blouse she was the society young lady in
tone and manner.
"Would you like to look at my sketches?" she asked. "They're jolly
rubbish, the whole lot, but they represent a deal of enthusiasm."
Her tone was friendly--too friendly, considering the point at which he
had paused, and he was a little hurt by it. Was she playing with him?
His tone was firm and his manner direct as he said: "Miss Brisbane, I am
accustomed to deal directly with friends as well as enemies, and I like
to have people equally frank with me. I know you are angry because of my
action in the case of your uncle. I do not ask pardon for that; I was
acting there in line of my duty. But if I have spoken harshly or without
due regard to your feelings at any time I ask you to forgive me."
He made a powerful appeal to her at this moment, but she wilfully
replied: "You made no effort to soften my uncle's disgrace."
"I didn't know he was your uncle at that time," he said, but his face
grew grave quickly. "It would have made no difference if I had--my
orders were to step between him and the records of the office. So far as
my orders enlightened me, he was a man to be watched." He turned towards
the door. "Is there anything I can do to help you reach the station
to-morrow? My sister and I would gladly drive you down."
She was unrelenting, but very lovely as she replied: "Thank you; you are
very kind, but all arrangements are made."
"Good-afternoon, Miss Brisbane."
"Good-bye, Captain Curtis."
"She is hard--hard as iron," he said, as he walked away. "Her father's
daughter in every fibre."
He was ashamed to acknowledge how deeply he felt her rejection of his
friendship, and the thought of not seeing her again gave him a sudden
sense of weakness and loneliness.
Elsie, on her part, was surprised to find a new nerve tingling in her
brain, and this tremor cut into the complete self-satisfaction she
expected to feel over her refusal of the peace-pipe. Several times
during the afternoon, while superintending her packing, she found
herself standing in an attitude of meditation--her inward eye reverting
to the fine, manly figure he made, while his grave, sweet voice vibrated
in her ears. She began to see herself in an unpleasant light, and when
at the dinner-table Lawson spoke of Curtis, she listened to him with
more real interest than ever before.
"He is making wonderful changes here," Lawson was saying. "Everywhere
you go you see Tetongs working at fence-building, bridge-making,
cabin-raising, with their eagle feathers fluttering in the winds, their
small hands chapped with cold. They are sawing boards and piling grain
in the warehouse and daubing red paint on the roofs. They are in a
frenzy of work. Every man has his rations and is happy. In some way he
has persuaded the chiefs to bring in all the school-children, and the
benches are full of the little shock-heads, wild as colts."
"A new broom, etc.," murmured Elsie.
"His predecessor never was a new broom," retorted Lawson, quickly.
"Sennett always had a nasty slaunch to him. He never in his life cleaned
the dirt from the corners, and I don't see exactly why you take such
pains in defending him."
"Because he is my uncle," she replied.
"Uncle Boot-jack! That is pure fudge, Bee Bee. You didn't speak to him
once a week; you privately despised him--anybody could see that. You are
simply making a cudgel of him now to beat Curtis with--and, to speak
plainly, I think it petty of you. More than this, you'd better hedge,
for I'm not at all sure that Sennett has not been peculating."
Elsie stopped him with an angry gesture. "I'll not have you accusing him
behind his back."
Lawson threw out his hands in a gesture of despair. "All right! But make
a note of it: you'll regret this taking sides with a disreputable old
bummer against an officer of Captain Curtis's reputation."
"You are not my master!" she said, and her eyes were fiercely bright. "I
do not wish to hear you use that tone to me again! I resent it!" and she
struck the floor with her foot. "Henceforth, if we are to remain
friends, you will refrain from lecturing me!" and she left the room with
a feeling of having done two men a wrong by being unjust to herself, and
this feeling deepened into shame as she lay in her bed that night. It
was her first serious difference with Lawson and she grew unhappy over
it. "But he shouldn't take sides against me like that," she said, in an
attempt to justify her anger.
On the second morning thereafter Lawson came into the office and said:
"Well, Captain, we leave you this morning."
Curtis looked up into his visitor's fine, sensitive face, and exclaimed,
abruptly--almost violently: "I'm going to miss you, old man."
"My heart's with you," replied Lawson. "And I shall return next spring."
"Bring Miss Brisbane with you."
"I'd like to do so, but she is vastly out of key--and I doubt.
Meanwhile, if I can be of any use to you in Washington let me know."
"Thank you, Lawson, I trust you perfectly," Curtis replied, with a glow
of warm liking.
As he stood at the gate looking up into Elsie's face, she seemed very
much softened, and he wished to reach his hand and stay her where she
sat; but the last word was spoken, and the wagon rolled away with no
more definite assurance of her growing friendship than was to be read in
a polite smile.