ESMÉ
Hal saw her first, vivid against the lifeless gray of the cement wall,
as he turned away from the Pierce car. A little apart from the human
current she stood, still and expectant. As if to point her out as the
chosen of gods and men, the questing sun, bursting in triumph through a
cloud-rift, sent a long shaft of gold to encompass and irradiate her. To
the end, whether with aching heart or glad, Hal was to see her thus, in
flashing, recurrent visions; a slight, poised figure, all gracious
curves and tender consonances, with a cluster of the trailing arbutus,
that first-love of the springtide, clinging at her breast. The breeze
bore to him the faint, wild, appealing fragrance which is the very
breath and soul of the blossom's fairy-pink.
Half-turning, she had leaned a little, as a flower leans, to the warmth
of the sunlight, uplifting her face for its kiss. She was not beautiful
in any sense of regularity of outline or perfection of feature, so much
as lovely, with the lustrous loveliness which defiantly overrides the
lapse of line and proportion, and imperiously demands the homage of
every man born of woman. Chill analysis might have judged the mouth,
with its delicate, humorous quirk at the corners, too large; the chin
too broad, for all its adorable baby dimple; the line of the nose too
abrupt, the wider contours lacking something of classic exactitude. But
the chillest analysis must have warmed to enthusiasm at the eyes;
wide-set, level, and of a tawny hazel, with strange, wine-brown lights
in their depths, to match the brownish-golden sheen of the hair, where
the sun glinted from it. As it were a higher power of her physical
splendor, there emanated from the girl an intensity and radiance of joy
in being alive and lovely.
Involuntarily Hal Surtaine paused as he approached her. Her glance fell
upon him, not with the impersonal regard bestowed upon a casual
passer-by, but with an intent and brightening interest,--the thrill of
the chase, had he but known it,--and passed beyond him again. But in
that brief moment, the conviction was borne in upon him that sometime,
somewhere, he had looked into those eyes before. Puzzled and eager he
still stared, until, with a slight flush, she moved forward and passed
him. At the head of the stairs he saw her greet a strongly built,
grizzled man; and then became aware of his father beckoning to him from
the automobile.
"Bewitched, Hal?" said Dr. Surtaine as his son came to him.
"Was I staring very outrageously, sir?"
"Why, you certainly looked interested," returned the older man,
laughing. "But I don't think you need apologize to the young lady. She's
used to attention. Rather lives on it, I guess."
The tone jarred on Hal. "I had a queer, momentary feeling that I'd seen
her before," he said.
"Don't you recall where?"
"No," said Hal, startled. "_Do_ I know her?"
"Apparently not," taunted the other good-humoredly. "You should know.
Hers is generally considered a face not difficult to remember."
"Impossible to forget!"
"In that case it must be that you haven't seen her before. But you will
again. And, then look out, Boy-ee. Danger ahead!"
"How's that, sir?"
"You'll see for yourself when you meet her. Half of the boys in town are
crazy over her. She eats 'em alive. Can't you tell the man-killer type
when you see it?"
"Oh, that's all in the game, isn't it?" returned Hal lightly. "So long
as she plays fair. And she looks like a girl of breeding and standards."
"All of that. Esmé Elliot is a lady, so far as that goes. But--well, I'm
not going to prejudice you. Here she comes now."
"Who is it with her?"
"Her uncle, Dr. Elliot. He doesn't altogether approve of us--me, I
mean."
Uncle and niece were coming directly toward them now, and Hal watched
her approach with a thrill of delight in her motion. It was a study in
harmonies. She moved like a cloud before the wind; like a ship upon the
high seas; like the swirl of swift waters above hidden depths. As the
pair passed to their car, which stood next to Dr. Surtaine's, the girl
glanced up and nodded, with a brilliant smile, to the doctor, who
returned to the salutation an extra-gallant bow.
"You seem to be friends," commented Hal, somewhat amused.
"That was more for you than for me. But the fair Esmé can always spare
one of those smiles for anything that wears trousers."
Hal moved uneasily. He felt a sense of discord. As he cast about for a
topic to shift to, the Elliot car rolled ahead slowly, and once more he
caught the woodsy perfume of the pink bloom. Strangely and satisfyingly
to his quickened perceptions, it seemed to express the quality of the
wearer. Despite her bearing of worldly self-assurance, despite the
atmosphere of modishness about her, there was in her charm something
wild and vivid, vernal and remote, like the arbutus which, alone among
flowers, keeps its life-secret virgin and inviolate, resisting all
endeavors to make it bloom except in its own way and in its own chosen
places.