'Did you think it would be very bad?'
'Horrible, horrible!'
The tone of these words was strange but I had not much time to reflect
upon it, for turning round at that moment I saw Jasper Nettlepoint come
towards us. He was separated from us by the expanse of the white deck
and I could not help looking at him from head to foot as he drew nearer.
I know not what rendered me on this occasion particularly sensitive to
the impression, but it seemed to me that I saw him as I had never seen
him before--saw him inside and out, in the intense sea-light, in his
personal, his moral totality. It was a quick, vivid revelation; if it
only lasted a moment it had a simplifying, certifying effect. He was
intrinsically a pleasing apparition, with his handsome young face and a
certain absence of compromise in his personal arrangements which, more
than any one I have ever seen, he managed to exhibit on shipboard. He
had none of the appearance of wearing out old clothes that usually
prevails there, but dressed straight, as I heard some one say. This gave
him a practical, successful air, as of a young man who would come best
out of any predicament. I expected to feel my companion's hand loosen
itself on my arm, as indication that now she must go to him, and was
almost surprised she did not drop me. We stopped as we met and Jasper
bade us a friendly good-morning. Of course the remark was not slow to be
made that we had another lovely day, which led him to exclaim, in the
manner of one to whom criticism came easily, 'Yes, but with this sort of
thing consider what one of the others would do!'
'One of the other ships?'
'We should be there now, or at any rate to-morrow.'
'Well then, I'm glad it isn't one of the others,' I said, smiling at the
young lady on my arm. My remark offered her a chance to say something
appreciative and gave him one even more; but neither Jasper nor Grace
Mavis took advantage of the opportunity. What they did do, I perceived,
was to look at each other for an instant; after which Miss Mavis turned
her eyes silently to the sea. She made no movement and uttered no word,
contriving to give me the sense that she had all at once become
perfectly passive, that she somehow declined responsibility. We remained
standing there with Jasper in front of us, and if the touch of her arm
did not suggest that I should give her up, neither did it intimate that
we had better pass on. I had no idea of giving her up, albeit one of the
things that I seemed to discover just then in Jasper's physiognomy was
an imperturbable implication that she was his property. His eye met mine
for a moment, and it was exactly as if he had said to me, 'I know what
you think, but I don't care a rap.' What I really thought was that he
was selfish beyond the limits: that was the substance of my little
revelation. Youth is almost always selfish, just as it is almost always
conceited, and, after all, when it is combined with health and good
parts, good looks and good spirits, it has a right to be, and I easily
forgive it if it be really youth. Still it is a question of degree, and
what stuck out of Jasper Nettlepoint (if one felt that sort of thing)
was that his egotism had a hardness, his love of his own way an avidity.
These elements were jaunty and prosperous, they were accustomed to
triumph. He was fond, very fond, of women; they were necessary to him
and that was in his type; but he was not in the least in love with Grace
Mavis. Among the reflections I quickly made this was the one that was
most to the point. There was a degree of awkwardness, after a minute, in
the way we were planted there, though the apprehension of it was
doubtless not in the least with him.
'How is your mother this morning?' I asked.
'You had better go down and see.'
'Not till Miss Mavis is tired of me.'
She said nothing to this and I made her walk again. For some minutes she
remained silent; then, rather unexpectedly, she began: 'I've seen you
talking to that lady who sits at our table--the one who has so many
children.'
'Mrs. Peck? Oh yes, I have talked with her.'
'Do you know her very well?'
'Only as one knows people at sea. An acquaintance makes itself. It
doesn't mean very much.'
'She doesn't speak to me--she might if she wanted.'
'That's just what she says of you--that you might speak to her.'
'Oh, if she's waiting for that----!' said my companion, with a laugh.
Then she added--'She lives in our street, nearly opposite.'
'Precisely. That's the reason why she thinks you might speak; she has
seen you so often and seems to know so much about you.'
'What does she know about me?'
'Ah, you must ask her--I can't tell you!'
'I don't care what she knows,' said my young lady. After a moment she
went on--'She must have seen that I'm not very sociable.' And
then--'What are you laughing at?'
My laughter was for an instant irrepressible--there was something so
droll in the way she had said that.
'Well, you are not sociable and yet you are. Mrs. Peck is, at any rate,
and thought that ought to make it easy for you to enter into
conversation with her.'
'Oh, I don't care for her conversation--I know what it amounts to.' I
made no rejoinder--I scarcely knew what rejoinder to make--and the girl
went on, 'I know what she thinks and I know what she says.' Still I was
silent, but the next moment I saw that my delicacy had been wasted, for
Miss Mavis asked, 'Does she make out that she knows Mr. Porterfield?'
'No, she only says that she knows a lady who knows him.'
'Yes, I know--Mrs. Jeremie. Mrs. Jeremie's an idiot!' I was not in a
position to controvert this, and presently my young lady said she would
sit down. I left her in her chair--I saw that she preferred it--and
wandered to a distance. A few minutes later I met Jasper again, and he
stopped of his own accord and said to me--
'We shall be in about six in the evening, on the eleventh day--they
promise it.'
'If nothing happens, of course.'
'Well, what's going to happen?'
'That's just what I'm wondering!' And I turned away and went below with
the foolish but innocent satisfaction of thinking that I had mystified
him.