On the second day after the alarm, Paul took the Indians back to Port
aux Pins, and dismissed them, after handing the ringleader to the proper
authorities; the others slunk away with their long black hair hanging
down below their white man's hats, their eagle profiles, in spite of
fierceness of outline, entirely unalarming. Paul then selected half a
dozen Irishmen, the least dilapidated he could find (the choice lay
between Indians and Irishmen), and brought them to Jupiter Light to take
the place of the crestfallen aborigines. He remained there a few days to
see that all went well; then he returned to Port aux Pins for a week's
stay. "Come a little way up the lake to meet me," he said to Eve, as he
bade her good-by; "I shall be along about four o'clock next Wednesday
afternoon."
His manner still remained a little despotic. But to women of strong will
despotism is attractive; when a despotism of love, it is enchanting.
Eve's feeling was, "Oh, to have at last found some one who is stronger
than I!"
Even now not for a moment did she bend her opinions, her decisions, to
his, of her own accord; each time it was simply that she was conquered;
after contesting the point as strongly as she could, how she gloried in
feeling herself overridden at last! She would look at Paul with
delighted eyes, and laugh in triumph. To have yielded because she loved
him, would have had a certain sweetness; but to be conquered unyielding,
that was a satisfaction whose intensity could go no further.
Since that walk in the darkness from the Indian quarters to Cicely's
lodge, when, suddenly, she had let her love have its way, she had
allowed herself to be carried along by chance events whithersoever they
pleased; she had defied conscience, she had accepted the bliss that hung
temptingly before her; she did not think, she only enjoyed. Once or
twice she had sent forth mentally this defiance,--"If you feel as I do,
_then_ you may judge me!" To whom was this said? To Fate? To the world
at large? In reality it was said to all women who in that summer of 1869
were young enough to love: "If you _can_ feel as I do, then you may
judge me." But it was only once or twice that this mood had come to her,
only once or twice that she thought of anything but Paul; his offered
hand taken, her acceptance of it was at least superb in its
completeness; there was no looking back, no fear, no regret; nothing
but the fulness of joy.
Still sweeter was it to feel that, deeply as she loved, she was loved as
deeply. Paul might be imperious, he might be negligent in explaining
things, and in other small ways; but there was nothing negligent in his
passion. His genius for directness, which puzzled Hollis in other
matters, showed itself also here; he had little to say--that was
possible--but no woman could have misunderstood the language of his eyes
or of the touch of his hand; or fail to be thrilled by it. The feeling
that possessed him went straight to its end, namely, Eve Bruce for his
wife; the same Eve whom he had not liked at all at first; to whom he had
found it difficult only a few weeks before to write a short letter. This
inconsistency did not trouble him; love had arrived, had descended upon
him in some way, he knew not how, had taken possession of him by force
and forever--he recognized that, and did not contest it. Women are only
women: this had been one of the settled convictions in the depths of his
mind, and it was a conviction not much changed even now; yet this same
Paul, with his mediæval creed, made a lover much more invincible than a
hundred, a thousand other men, who would have said, perhaps, that they
revered women more. "Revered?" Paul would have answered, "I don't revere
Eve, I _love_ her!"
Whatever name he gave it, she knew that she held the joy of his life in
her hands, that he would come to her for this--had already come; and
that it always would be so. This was happiness enough for her.
This happiness had existed but ten days. But these days had seemed like
months of joy, she had lived each moment so fully. "Sejed, Prince of
Ethiopia, vowed to have three days of uninterrupted happiness--" she
might have remembered the old fable and its ending. But she remembered
nothing, she scorned to remember; let the unhappy, the unloved, think of
the past; she would drink in all the sunshine of the present, she would
live, live!
"Row a little way up the lake to meet me," Paul had said. At half-past
three of the afternoon he had indicated, she went to the beach; one of
the Irishmen, under her direction, began to push down a canoe. The open
way in which she did this--in which she had done everything since that
night--was in itself an effectual disguise; no one thought it remarkable
that she should be going to meet Paul. As she was about to take her
place in the canoe, Hollis appeared.
"Going far? We don't know much about that Paddy," he said, in an
undertone.
"Only to meet Paul."
"If he's late, you may have to go a good way."
"He won't be late."
"Well, he may be," answered Hollis, patiently. "I guess I'll take you,
if you'll let me; and then, when we meet, I'll come back with his man in
the other canoe."
"Very well," Eve responded. She did not comment upon the terms of his
offer, she did not care what he thought. She took her place, and he
paddled westward.
It was a beautiful afternoon; a slight coolness, which made itself felt
through the sunshine, showed that the short Northern summer was
approaching its end. As she sat with her back to the prow, she was
obliged to turn her head to look for the other canoe; and this she did
many times. After one of these quests, she saw that Hollis's eyes were
upon her.
"Is there any change in me?" she asked, laughing.
"Rather!"
"What is it?"
But poor Hollis did not know how to say, "You are so much more
beautiful."
"It's my white dress," Eve suggested, in a somewhat troubled voice. "I
had it made in Port aux Pins. It's only piqué." She smoothed the folds
of the skirt for a moment, doubtfully.
"I guess white favors you," answered Hollis, with what he would have
called a festive wave of his hand.
Her mood had now changed. "It's no matter, I'm not afraid!" She was
speaking her thoughts aloud, sure that he would not understand. But he
did understand.
The other canoe came into sight after a while, shooting round a point;
Eve waved her handkerchief in answer to Paul's hail; the two boats met.
"Mr. Hollis knows that you are to take me back," said Eve, as eagerly as
a child.
Paul glanced at Hollis. But the other man bore the look bravely. "Proud
to be of service," he answered, waving his hand again, with two fingers
extended lightly. He changed places with Paul; Paul and Eve, in their
canoe, glided away.
It was at this moment that Cicely, who had been asleep, opened her eyes.
Her lodge was quiet; Mrs. Mile was reading near the window, her seat
carefully placed so that the light should fall over her left shoulder
upon the page.
Cicely gazed at her for some time; then she jumped from the couch with a
quick bound. "It's impossible to lie here another instant and see that
History of Windham! The next thing, you'll be proposing to read it aloud
to me; you look exactly like a woman who loves to read aloud." She began
to put on her shoes.
"You are going for a walk? I shall be glad to go too," answered Mrs.
Mile promptly, putting a marker in her book, and rising.
"No," responded Cicely; "I can't have those boots of yours pounding
along beside me to-day, Priscilla Jane. Impossible."
"Well, I do declare!" said Mrs. Mile, reduced in her surprise to the
language of her youth. "They can't pound much, Mrs. Morrison, in the
sand; and there's nothing but sand here."
"They grind it down!" answered Cicely. "You can call grandpa, if you
don't want me to go alone; but come with me to-day you shall not, you
clean, broad-faced, turn-out-your-toes, do-your-duty old relict of Abner
Whittredge Mile." She looked at Mrs. Mile consideringly as she said
this, bringing out each word in a soft, clear tone.
The judge was listlessly roving about the beach. Mrs. Mile gave him
Cicely's request. "She is saying very odd things to-day, sir," she
added, impersonally.
The judge, alarmed, hurried to the lodge; Mrs. Mile could not keep up
with him.
"Priscilla Jane is short-winded, isn't she?" remarked Cicely, at the
lodge door, as he joined her. "Whenever she comes uphill, she always
stops, and pretends to admire the view, while she pants, 'What a
beautiful scene! What a _privilege_ to see it!'"