"Oh, I'll not be the first. Man though I am, I can restrain my
curiosity."
How quickly her face changed! An almost infantile look came into it, as
she said:
"There are so many more curious things than curiosity, if you know what
I mean. Curiosity is such a destructive process, don't you think?"
"And this is creative? The not satisfying it, I mean."
"Yes, wonder is--and mystery. It ramifies so. It splits the ray." She
made a queer, mystical gesture, all her own.
"Oh, it quite blossoms!" I said. "I breathe all sorts of perfumes never
smelt."
Her eager look came back, and she smiled joyously. "How quick you are!
I wish we could keep it up a while! I should have liked to marry
Bluebeard! What a splendid dowry he gave! Oh, I would never have
opened the door! There was so much more outside than in, wasn't there?
But now the role is yours; you must be Bluebeard's wife--or Robinson
Crusoe. Oh, you must stay on the island--this island with me, and not
try to get off. There are a few little places we can explore without
danger--will you be satisfied with them?"
Somehow I got the spirit of it, as at hearing some words of a strange
language eloquently spoken. She was warning me off--but from what? I
would find out soon enough, should the meaning need to be made more
definite. It was like a game of jackstraws; if I did not play gingerly
I should bring down the commonplace upon us. My situation was
delicate--it almost seemed that I had arrived, in some way,
inopportunely.
But she had gone on. "Did you read my books?" she asked, taking up one
of them.
"I read that one--the poems. I got quite lost in them."
"Which ones?" She looked up from the book eagerly.
"_The Journey_, and,--" I hesitated, "--_The Riders_." I was watching
her face earnestly.
"Oh, how right you are!" She was perfectly simple about it. There was
no conceit in her. "It means, doesn't it, that we already have a
language? But you must read the essays, too. Then maybe we'll have a
philosophy."
"I'll explore them with pleasure." I tried to keep the appeal out of my
voice. "I have such a lot of things to do before I go."
She got this quite as I intended. "Well, we'll be perfectly natural and
let come what may, as it seems to be all decided for us. We won't force
the game. But I'm afraid you'll never be contented. You'll leave the
island first, I'm quite sure."
I protested; she shook her head slowly. I knew she was thinking very
hard of something. Her smile was wistful, her eyes, always fixed on
mine, were almost somber in their expression.
"Would you dare promise?"
I knew now there was something behind all this; some fear of my
presence.
"Shall I?" I fenced, more to draw her on than from any doubt of her
meaning or reluctance to agree with her wish.
"It's base of me--it's foolish, too, for it can really do no good. But,
you see, I don't quite know you, do I?"
"And don't quite want to?" I was unkind enough to say, but only with the
same motive as before. I wanted to get at the bottom of it--find out
what it was she dreaded, and dared not acknowledge that she did.
She was a little hurt and said that it wasn't fair to say so, that I
wasn't playing the game. I was properly contrite, and, for the moment,
gave up the duel.
"Let it be a promise, then," I said.
At this, I thought she looked relieved; and that she should be so at my
bare word touched me. It did cross my mind that, perceiving my
adaptability to this sort of affair, she might perhaps have taken an
adventitious means of heightening the romance of the situation with such
innuendo; but she seemed to me to be altogether too direct for that, and
too sapient, as well.
"Thank you. I may hold you to that promise. Does that seem ungracious?"
There it was. There was most definitely something which she didn't wish
me to know, and which my advent jeoparded. I was truly sorry for her
now, and a little embarrassed at my position. Meanwhile her eyes were
steadily questioning mine, as if to make sure that I was to be trusted.
I took up her last remark to relieve the tensity of her mood.
"You couldn't be ungracious, I'm sure. I should as soon suspect Leah!"
She laughed more freely. "Oh, I'm so glad you appreciate her! That
says more for you than all the rest."
"The rest?" I insisted, quite ready for a compliment.
She gave it to me with her head a little on one side, and her right
eyebrow, the irregular one, whimsically upraised.
"Yes. Your keeping it up so well, you know."
"Oh, I'll keep it up! It's the chief charm of being here, flat on my
back, in a strange place. I'm sure it will be most amusing."
"I'm not so sure. I'm full of moods and whims--you're going to be
terribly disappointed in me sometimes--though that sounds like
vanity--and I may take advantage of your complaisance, of your promise,
that is. I hope you won't regret it."
So it rested, my promise not to be too inquisitive (for I took its
meaning to be that), given and accepted. It quite whetted my appetite,
you may be sure. If all this talk seems fine-spun, it is my fault in
the telling of it, for in the give-and-take we perfectly understood each
other. I can not, of course, give her delicate inflections, but these,
with her looks and gestures, said as much as her words.
But if this equivocal conversation was vague and shadowy, she could pass
into the sunshine as deftly. She seemed to do so now, as she rose and
went to the open window and whistled. A chorus of barks answered her.
She turned to me.
"I must go down to my dogs," she said. "I wish you could see them--that
is, if you like collies. I have five, all thoroughbreds--they're
beauties! You'll have to get acquainted with them as soon as you're
able to go down-stairs."
She leaned a little out of the window and called, "Hi! Nokomis!"
drawing out the vowels. A deep bark responded.
"Hiawatha!" she called next, and she was answered by a sharp, frenzied
yelping. "Minnehaha!" followed--she almost sang the name, which was
replied to like the others. Then Chevalier and John O'Groat greeted her
in turn.
"I'm going to take them for their morning run," she said, as she left
me. "I'll examine you on the essays when I come back."
She went down, and soon after I heard her talking, evidently to Uncle
Jerdon and to King. Then the barking rose ecstatically, receded in the
distance, and finally was lost. I took up the essays and read for a
while. My head was much better, and my soreness was slowly disappearing,
but the constrained positions I had to hold to keep my rib from paining
me made me too weary and impatient to put my mind on my book. I could
hardly wait for Miss Fielding to return, and lay inert, watching the
flies drift lazily through the sunshine that filled the room, hoping
that Leah, at least, might come in to break my ennui. I welcomed even
the hoarse, squeaky cry of King's pump, the occasional crowing of a
rooster, the twittering of birds in the apple-tree, and the many little
homely sounds of country life. The fragrant perfume of the roses in the
room was a blessed reminder of Miss Fielding's kindness.
In a half-hour, I heard the dogs approaching, and she came into the room
again, hatless, bringing a new breath of June with her. Her hair was
blown to a silky veil through which her eyes shone and her rosy cheeks
glowed as she smiled at me over the footboard of my bed. Throwing off
her little white bolero, a saucy thing with black velvet collar and
cuffs, she went to the mirror and gathered up the loose strands of hair,
tucking them in, here and there, with deft touches of her fingers, and
adjusting them with dark tortoise-shell pins, until her little head,
coiffed high, was as smooth as a cat's.
She came up to the bedside and was quick to notice by my nervous
movements that I was suffering. Sitting down she began to tell gaily of
her walk over the hill, and, as she spoke, my aching was calmed as if
she had laid a finger on the electric switch that controlled it. Then
she suggested reading to me, and took up the volume of poems we had
discussed.
Her voice was not quite intense enough for strong emotion; it had not
the momentum, so to speak, to carry the lines along with the swing and
rhythm necessary. It was too light for that, but it more than made up
for it by its sympathetic tenderness and the delicacy of its inflection.
Her tones lulled me, and I fell asleep.
In the afternoon she brought her mending, and we talked for a couple of
hours or so, always keeping, as she expressed it, "on the island." What
personalities we discussed, that is, had no reference to her history or
her plans. She warned me off very cleverly several times when the talk
approached her circumstances or even her moods and tastes.
When she confessed that she played a little on the piano and violin, I
positively insisted upon my rights as an invalid to be amused. She
rolled up her work and went to get her violin without excuses or
apologies.
I waited with considerable anxiety to hear what and how she would play,
not committing myself as to my own choice of composers. She began in her
own room, and through the opened doors I heard the strains of the _Prize
Song_ played with great verve and sentiment. I was delighted. She came,
still playing, into my chamber, her sleeves rolled up (she said she
could not play else), and accepted my compliments graciously and simply.
Then, walking up and down, absorbed, she gave me fragments of Cesar
Franck's sonata for the violin and piano. To watch her, supple, virile,
rapt, to note her clever, accomplished technique, her passionate,
free-armed command of the bow--I have seldom seen such a splendid attack
or so sure and true a vibrato--was a joy beautifully associated with the
clarity and subtle craftsmanship of the master.
So she ran on, alternating her renditions with scraps of talk that
showed a keen musical sense and an appreciation of the radical,
ultra-modern movement of the time. Next she burst into a vibrant,
dramatic Polish folksong that excited me like a fire. And finally, as a
_tour de force_, her eyes dancing as she watched me over her shoulder
with some new audacious devil in her smile, she enchanted me with a
vivid piece most astonishingly enlivened with flights of
technique--trills, brilliant chord passages, and runs with the upward
and downward "staccato bow." Then she threw down her fiddle and came up
to me, laughing.
That evening she had another delight for me, coming to my bedside and
reading Villon and Verlaine in the original, translating the old French
for me when I was perplexed by the _argot_. And for the picture, I need
only add that Leah was of the circle, and made her own comments!
*III*
There was, next morning, a little dialogue much like that which I had
overheard the day before, except that this time it was "stewed
rose-leaves with a small pot of sunshine," which Miss Fielding was
fanciful enough to demand. I wondered what, after such a pleasantry,
she did have; for I took it to be some joke between her and Leah, who,
no doubt, translated the metaphor into something more substantial.
As I ate breakfast, I could hear Miss Fielding singing in her room. She
came in before I had finished my egg and coffee, bringing an armful of
new magazines. This time she was dressed in pongee and wore a short
string of graduated white coral beads which was mimicked, when she
smiled, by her little teeth.
"I've found out about you--quite by accident, though, Mr. Castle,
really," she said gaily; and, opening one of the magazines, she tapped
with her hand the picture of a country house my firm had just rather
successfully completed. "So you're an architect! And I'm the first to
get off the island, after all!"
"It doesn't matter, I suppose, so long as I stay on?" I asked.
"Oh, this doesn't by any means absolve you of your promise," she
answered, examining the illustration carefully, still standing at the
foot of the bed.
"You aren't really very much wiser, are you? There are architects _and_
architects, you know."
"Yes," she said, apparently thinking of something else. "Quite as there
are women and women," she added, turning over the pages idly.
"There's only one of _your_ sort!" I exclaimed.
A queer smile passed and was repressed upon her lips, molding them into
new curves. "Yes, only one of _me_."
"I don't exactly mean that, either," I went on. "The fact is, rather,
that there is more than one of me. There's the architect and the man in
me--and how many more! One is always astonishing the others. Aren't
there, after all, several of you, Miss Fielding?"
She gave me a frightened glance, then tossed the magazine on the bed.
It wasn't petulance; she seemed to be disturbed at the subject.
"Oh, I'm only a White Cat!" she said cryptically.
She seemed anything but that, to me.
"I'll tell you about it sometime--perhaps," she added. "But not now."
She stood with her hands behind her back, raising herself on her toes,
and changed the subject. "I'm awfully anxious to show you this house,
now that I know you're an architect. It's one of the oldest hereabout,
and it was a wreck when I bought it. I've had it all done over inside,
and I shall expect you to compliment me on my taste, for it's mainly my
own ideas."
"What I've seen of it is charming--but a bit impersonal, perhaps."
"Oh, this is only the guest-chamber. One doesn't inflict one's ideas on
the transient visitor. Of course this is a bloodless, sexless place.
You'll find personality enough in my room, I fancy. I hope you'll be
able to get down-stairs by day after to-morrow, and have a chance to
look about at the place. I'm sure you'll love Midmeadows. I'm
expecting the doctor down here this afternoon, and he'll probably be
able to tell you how long you'll have to stay. I do hope you won't get
well too fast, Mr. Castle."
"Trust me for that," I said. "I give you fair notice, I shall probably
do some malingering. But I shall be glad to see the doctor, if only to
make sure that I can impose on him."
My heart sank, nevertheless, at the thought of his interruption of our
idyl. I felt an illogical right to her by discovery, a certain
franchise in her good graces that Fate herself had given me. The
possible weakening of our alliance, however, was only the negative side
of my annoyance. The positive aspect was that Doctor Copin seemed to be
an old acquaintance, even a friend; for Miss Fielding had mentioned that
she was going to walk over to the Harbor to meet him. It was possible,
even--and the idea was poison--that she was in love with him. Well, I
must needs wait and see him before I decided as to that chance.
I asked her to call her dogs again, and, seeing that it might amuse me,
she offered to bring Nokomis, the best-behaved, and matron of the
kennel, up to see me. I accepted eagerly, and, from the window, she
called her favorite.
Nokomis was one of the most beautiful collies I have ever seen, a tawny
red, or sable, with white ruff, feet, and tail-point. Her head was very
finely shaped--not too dull for keenness, nor with too much of the silly
greyhound's tapering muzzle, as not a few flat-headed prize-winners,
bred chiefly for color and coat, have. She had dark brown eyes set with
that obliqueness that gives the breed its characteristic look of
brightness, kindness and craft. Her small ears, as she entered, were
semi-erect, giving her, as she stopped with her head slightly on one
side, the sharp, doubtful expression of the fox. She came with her flag
up, as if she were on exhibition before judges, marched to Miss Fielding
and waited for orders.
"Isn't she a darling?" Miss Fielding said affectionately, rubbing her
pet's neck. "You hasn't got flappy, saddle-bag ears and a high forehead
and a velvet jacket, _has_ you! I don't see no snipey nose! Hasn't she
got an 'honest, sonsie, bawsint face,' Mr. Castle? Only it isn't
'bawsint.' And look at her gawcie tail, wi' upward curl!' She has old
Cockie herself for an ancestor, _she_ has!"
Nokomis gravely stood on her hind legs with her forepaws on her
mistress' skirt, panting--smiling, I might well say. Then, in obedience
to a word and a gesture, she dropped and came over to me in so dignified
and friendly a way that I fell promptly in love with her. Her outer
coat was abundant, straight and stiff, the under one so thick and soft
and furry that I could not find the skin. Her ruff was magnificent, her
chest deep and strong. I was sure she would be a good worker; her wit
had already been proved.
Miss Fielding was pleased with my appreciation, and consented to having
Nokomis remain, and so, for the rest of the day, except for occasional
inquisitive excursions, she lay on the floor beside my bed, thumping her
tail and listening attentively whenever I looked down to speak to her.
Early in the afternoon Miss Fielding put on a fresh linen waist and
corduroy skirt to set out for the station. Before she went she moved
about the room, readjusting the flowers, drawing a shade or two which
threatened to let the sun into my eyes, renewing my pitcher of water and
so on, giving me in five minutes a dozen evidences of her tact,
thoughtfulness and consideration. Then, with a last warning to Nokomis
to take good care of me, she went away, leaving the apartment
depressingly empty.
Leah came in occasionally, however, to see if I was comfortable, but I
could get little talk from her. She answered all my questions, looking
at me with her melting, deep brown eyes, which were really not a little
like those of old Nokomis, but volunteering no remark of her own.
Between the two I managed to be fairly patient till, at about three
o'clock, Miss Fielding returned with the doctor. I was aware of their
approach for some time before they arrived by the joyous barking of the
collies in front of the stable. At this Nokomis pricked up her ears,
but was too well-bred to pay more attention. I had laughed at her for
yawning wide with her wolf-like jaws, and she was sensitively on her
dignity.
Doctor Copin was tall and thin and younger than I had expected; and like
most young doctors he attempted to make much of his years by a pointed,
reddish beard. Nature had assisted him in this attempt, also, by
removing enough of his hair to give him a shiny bald forehead almost to
the crown of his head, and making him near-sighted enough to require
strong eye-glasses. But all this could not induce me to think him more
than twenty-seven or eight years of age. His eyes were of that china
blue which, with red hair, is so apt to give a selfish, heartless
expression, which went very well with his general bloodlessness. Except
for those protruding blue eyes he might, with his yellowy-brown suit and
his slender, long hands, have been an animated caricature, done in red
chalk. Worst of all, to my mind, he made puns.
He approached me with the jocose air affected by physicians, and looked
me over with a grin. I could see, under his sparse beard, that he had a
lizard chin receding comically.
"Well, Mr. Castle," he said, "I expect you haven't been climbing any
more trees with your machine lately, have you? Feeling like Adam, after
the creation of Eve, with that fourth rib of yours! Let me have a feel
of it. Ah!"
He prodded me a little. "Well, we're doing so-so," he went on. "If you
were a football player you'd be up in five minutes. How's the head? I
suppose you haven't had quite such a big one since you put on long
pants. You're not having many long pants these days, I fancy, with that
cracked bone in your chest, are you!" And so on. I tried to smile, and
did not succeed till I had caught sight of Miss Fielding's face frowning
over his shoulder.
I was doing well, it seemed. It was nothing but a matter of time and
patience. The worst of it was the shaking up, and for that, rest was
all that was necessary.
I answered his pleasantries, asked him the news in town, and thanked him
for what he had done, which, indeed, was not much. If I have given the
impression that he was an ass, that was not at all how he impressed me.
Though he persistently refused to talk sense, and turned everything I
said into jest, I was ready enough to believe that he knew his business
and stood well in the profession. I got little more than this however,
for he soon left for a talk--likely a professional one, I imagined--with
my hostess. This lasted till, after an early dinner, he left the house
to be driven back to the station by Uncle Jerdon. Idle and bored as I
was, while alone, I speculated upon his relations with Miss Fielding;
but from what I had seen I could hardly regard him as a rival. Still, I
knew well enough that one could not predicate from a man's appearance
how women might like him. Doctor Copin would not be here in attendance,
much less as a visitor, unless there was some value in him. He
evidently knew the place well enough to have been at Midmeadows often.
It made me, for no particular reason that I could name, uncomfortable.
It was still and warm, the beginning of the hush of twilight, the birds'
chattering quieted, when voices came plainly up to me through the open
window beside my bed. Miss Fielding and the doctor were coming round a
corner of the house on their way to the stable.
"I wish when she comes, next time, you'd have Leah let me know," I heard
Doctor Copin say earnestly.
"I won't promise to do that," was her reply.
"Why not?" he asked sharply.
"Why do you want to know?" she asked.
"You know well enough. You know how interested I am in her."
"I wish I _did_!"
This was the last I could make out, for they passed into the yard behind
the house. I heard the carriage drive off, and soon after Miss
Fielding's voice inside the house, calling for Leah to come down. I
thought that I detected a strain of excitement, even of alarm in her
tones.
A half-hour afterward, she came into my room with a chess-board, and
asked me if I played the game. I was delighted to try it with her,
though I was poor enough at it, and she beat me easily.
She was quite as charming as ever, but, as I studied my strategy, she
had time in the silent pauses to fall into little moods of reverie,
letting the talk drop naturally. I was not too absorbed in my play to
notice it, and once or twice I looked up from the board to see her face
show a tragic expression, clearing, under my surveillance, with what
seemed to be a forced smile. The little lines near her eyes seemed to
have deepened since morning, and two vertical ones came, at times,
cutting upright clefts between her brows. Once or twice she put her
hand to her head suddenly. Her listlessness accented her grace, but she
seemed distinctly older.
After she had announced mate in three moves she awaited my capitulation.
Then she put the board and men aside wearily.
"You'll find it desperately stupid here, I know, Mr. Castle," she began.
"I wish we could be more amusing, but I'm a bit blue to-night."
"I only reproach myself for not being able to make you forget it," I
said. "As for myself, I always feel like the hero of a fairy tale when
you're about."
She gave her head a quick, backward shake, as if to free her mind of
some disturbing thought. "Oh, I told you I was the White Cat, you
know!" she replied. "Can't you imagine how interesting it must be for
us to have any one here at all, and you most especially? Why, I feel
that you are a friend, already. If it hadn't been so, I shouldn't have
dared to confess so frankly that I'm depressed."
"What can I possibly say of you, then, who have proved yourself so
friendly? I shall be glad when it comes my turn to give, and yours to
receive."
"Oh, that time will come soon enough, I'm afraid," she said, folding her
hands in her lap, and looking down at them.
"You make me quite long for it!"
"Oh, don't long for it!" she exclaimed, and then rose nervously to stand
facing the lamp with a fixed, entranced gaze. "It will mean, perhaps,
that I shall need all your sympathy, all your charity," she added,
turning, ever so slowly, to look down at me.
"I will give anything you ask----"
"And I shall ask nothing," she put in quickly. Again she threw her head
back with that quick, freeing gesture. I saw what she meant. It would
be put to my tact and intuition.
She held out her hand impulsively and put it into mine. It seemed very
small and slight, and it was cold. Then, summoning a smile so rapid
that it came and went in a flash, she bade me good night and left the
room.
For fully an hour after that, I heard her voice and Leah's in a steady,
low conversation in the room across the hall. At nine, Leah came in to
adjust the light and see that I wanted nothing. I fell into an uneasy
sleep, waking at every cock-crow.
*IV*
The next day was harsh and cloudy. There was a light fog in from the
sea, enough to make it a little cold, and to depress my spirits. It
was, therefore, with great impatience that I awaited the matutinal visit
from my hostess. She was usually up betimes; to-day she slept late.
It had already become one of my chief diversions to listen for the
little morning colloquy in the hall, but to-day I heard nothing till
after eight o'clock, when Leah came upstairs, knocked on the opposite
door, which was always half-open at night, and put her usual question.
Miss Fielding's voice came sharp and clear, a little querulous.
"Oh, I'll have bacon and eggs, I think; but wait a while, Leah; I'm
sleepy and I don't want to get up yet."
Leah closed my own door softly and went down-stairs. I was
disappointed. I hoped Miss Fielding was not in a bad humor, though that
seemed impossible. When Leah came up with the tray and gave me a "good
morning," I said:
"Leah, I wish you'd ask Miss Fielding if Nokomis can't come up into my
room this morning, will you?"
She hesitated just long enough for me to notice that she was troubled;
then she put down the tray, saying:
"Nokomis is a queer old dog, Mr. Castle, and I don't know that she'll
come."
"Why, she was here all day yesterday and we had a beautiful time
together!"
"I know." Leah turned to leave. "I'll speak about it, of course,
but--well, these dogs have all sorts of fancies, and you can't always
depend upon them. They will and they won't." She did not look at me as
she answered, and went out immediately.
I felt that I had somehow blundered into an indiscretion, though what it
was I couldn't possibly see. It made me exceedingly uncomfortable, for
I would have done anything rather than take advantage of the kindness
and hospitality with which I had been treated. I remembered that I had
not yet heard the dogs barking; that might possibly mean something, but
it gave me no clue. I had to give it up and try to make amends as well
as I might.
A little later I heard Miss Fielding's door slam, and her footsteps
running down the stairs. That she had not come in to see me, even if
for only a few words, did not decrease my annoyance. Shortly after came
a chorus of barks, but I fancied that they were not of the same mood
that I had noted before; there seemed to be something antagonistic in
their protesting notes, as if some stranger had perhaps passed the
house. I had got the idea that Midmeadows was a lonely place, though I
had not yet seen the outside of the building, and no doubt the collies
were distrustful of visitors. I waited expectantly to hear Miss
Fielding call them, one by one, as she had before; but, if she did so, I
missed it.
For half an hour or more there was a steady pounding down-stairs, and,
when Leah came for my tray, I heard some one whistling, the least bit
out of tune. Leah was silent and reserved. She asked how I had slept,
and if I were better, and there the conversation ended.
Finally, at about eleven o'clock, Miss Fielding came in. I looked up
eagerly.
She wore a stiffly laundered shirt-waist, noticeably stained and soiled,
though it had evidently been put on clean that morning. She wore no
stock, and the neck was turned away in a V, carelessly, showing a little
gold chain with a sapphire pendant, and the sleeves were rolled up above
her dimpled elbows. She had a heavy walking-skirt and heavy mannish
shoes whose soles projected a full half-inch beyond the uppers. Her
hair, which, before, I had always seen exquisitely coiled high on her
head, was done in a full pompadour, though now it fell in flat folds
over her forehead and wisped out in the back of her neck.
She came up to my bedside and smiled frankly at me. I got a pronounced
odor of Santal.
"Well, how are you to-day?" she said jovially. "Do you feel better?"
I said that I did, noticing that she wore three rings on her left hand.
It was good to see her so full of life and energy.
"You certainly were a sight when you were brought in," she went on; "I
was frightened to death. I never saw any one unconscious before, and I
thought you were dead, for sure. Isn't it lucky the doctor was here?
I'm awfully sorry your auto was smashed up so, for I'd like to try it
myself. I've been wanting one. Yours is a foreign make, isn't it? I've
been looking it over. It's a water-cooled engine, I see. But I want a
six-cylinder. I'm going to see if Uncle Jerdon and I can't patch it up
so that it'll go."
"Fancy a girl's caring about machinery!" I said, smiling at her
enthusiasm. "You're the last person in the world I'd ever think would
have any interest in it."
"Why?" she said, sitting on the edge of the bed, and, turning down her
sleeves, covered her round, strong arms.
"I thought that you were more of the artistic temperament."
"Oh, I like to use my hands," she said. She held one out, its fingers
stiffly opened, then clenched her fist firmly. "They're stronger than
they look. Try it!"
She took my hand in hers and gave me a grip as strong as any ordinary
man's.
"That comes from your violin practice, I suppose," I remarked.
Her eyes were on mine, and I saw that the pupils were dilated, and the
irises so dark as almost to appear black. She did not answer me for a
moment, and then simply nodded vaguely and changed the subject.
"I've taken the clock apart more than once. The dining-room one, I mean.
When the hands point to eight, it strikes four and it's half-past two,
really. I have to tell time by an algebraic formula. I'm going to
dissect it again and see if I can't get it right." She laughed merrily,
swinging her foot back and forth.
At that moment the collies began to bark again. She sprang up
impatiently, and went to the window.
"Darn those dogs!" she complained, "don't they make a horrid racket,
though! I can't keep them quiet." Then she raised the sash abruptly,
leaned out and cried, "Hush up, there!"
Their answer was a chorus of indignation. She let down the window with a
clatter, and walked to the mirror to rearrange her hair, using silver
pins that shone conspicuously in her dark locks. Her skirt had sagged
away from her belt, at the back, from the violence of her work, no
doubt, and she reached to fix it, turning to smile at me coquettishly
after she did so.
"Do you like my hair done high or low?" she asked.
"I like it best the way I first saw it, that night," I said. "It was
done in a fillet, or a bandeau, wasn't it?"
"Why, no! It was pompadoured, wasn't it? Oh, yes--perhaps it was--I
forget--but it's so fine that I can't do anything with it."
Except for these little lapses of abstraction when she stared so
puzzlingly at me, she was in high spirits. Her presence filled the room
with electricity; she surcharged its atmosphere. She seemed more virile
than ever, more full of life, so full that it actually seemed to splash
over in all sorts of energetic gestures of her head and hands. As she
stood, now, in the center of the room, she made a quick dash at a fly
that drifted past, caught it in her hand, smiled at her dexterity, and
tossed it aside. She made passes and rapid motions with her arms, as if
she were swinging a tennis racket, and tapped her toes and heels in a
little clog-dance as she walked. I saw that she was getting bored.
"Well," she said at last, "I must go to work. If there's anything you
want Leah will do it for you. You can call her. There's the bell.
Don't hesitate to ring it. I'll be so glad when you can come
down-stairs and see the place. It's a jolly old shack--you'll like it!"
She waved her hand jauntily and swung out of the room. I heard her run
downstairs, and a little later the pounding and the whistling
recommenced.
She semed different to-day, but I imagined that perhaps it was only that
she was feeling better in health and mind, though she had not appeared
really ill before. She seemed younger than ever, too, the little lines
in her face seemed to be mostly ironed out. No doubt it was, as women
say, "her day." Her beauty was more obvious; it was undeniable.
Yet something about her manner troubled me. I was distinctly
disappointed; she seemed less subtle, less imaginative. She was no
longer the princess of my fairy tale; the spell had waned. But if her
familiarity and naturalness upon further acquaintance were less
romantic, they were more real, and had some of the actuality of prose.
We could still be good friends, for I liked her immensely. Perhaps she
had thought we had gone too far sentimentally, and was trying to put our
relations upon a firmer and more matter-of-fact basis. Perhaps, even,
Doctor Copin's visit had, in some way, affected her, and she had
considered that her _entente_ with me was becoming dangerous. Well, it
was certainly my place, as a stranger thrust upon her hospitality, to
take whatever cue she gave me, disappointing as that line of conduct
should prove. For I had been stirred and awakened by her. I could not
deny that to myself. And no doubt I had taken her altogether too
seriously.
I saw no more of her till late in the afternoon, but, meanwhile, Leah
made me a welcome visit. After luncheon she asked me, quite modestly,
if I would like her to read to me or would rather play chess. I chose
the reading, wanting very much the opportunity of studying her. Her
attention seemed, however, to be distracted; I was sure of it when, a
little later, she excused herself to go downstairs. Then I noticed the
barking of the dogs, high-pitched and excited.
She came back soon to finish her reading, and, that done, we fell to
talking. As she sat, her dark face was outlined against the white
woodwork of the alcove like a silhouette. Her white teeth shone.