The little breeze had held all night, and this morning the trees and
shrubs were quite dry again, but looking better for their bath. It was
Sunday, and as the canoe floated into the harbor of the lotus pool a
distant church bell was ringing. Perhaps, he told himself with a sudden
sinking of the heart, he was doomed to another day without sight of
Clytie; for it might be that the family would drive to church. But the
first fair look about him dispelled his forebodings. She was standing
at the border of the pool throwing crumbs of bread to the swans. She
saw him at almost the same moment and smiled.
[Illustration]
“Don’t come any nearer, please,” she said. “You’ll scare them.”
He dipped his paddle obediently and sat silent in the rocking craft
until the last crumb had been distributed and she had brushed the
crumbs from her outstretched hands. Stooping, she picked a book from
the grass and faced him.
[Illustration: SHE WAS THROWING CRUMBS OF BREAD TO THE SWANS.]
“May I come ashore?” he asked.
“You are already trespassing dreadfully,” she objected.
“‘In for a penny, in for a pound,’” he replied, sending the canoe
forward. “‘Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.’ And if I
could think of any other proverbs applicable to the matter I’d quote
them.” He jumped out and pulled the bow of the canoe onto the turf.
“You won’t mind, however, if I decline to stay and be hung with you?”
she asked.
“On the contrary, I should mind very much. In fact, I demand that you
remain and go bail for me in case I’m apprehended.”
“I fear I couldn’t afford it,” she answered.
“Doubtless your word would serve,” he said. “Perhaps, if you told them
the excellent character I bear, you might get me off scot-free.”
“But I don’t think I know enough about your character.”
“There’s something in that,” he allowed. “Perhaps you had better
observe me closely for the next hour or two. One can learn a great deal
about another person’s character by observation.”
“How can I do that if I go to church?”
“You can’t. That’s one reason why you’re not going to church.”
“Oh! And――are there other reasons?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps you had better give a few of them. I don’t think the first one
is especially convincing.”
“Well, another one is that I haven’t seen you for three days.”
She shook her head gravely.
[Illustration]
“Go on, please.”
“Not good enough? Well, then, another reason is that you haven’t seen
me for three days.”
She laughed amusedly.
“Worse and worse,” she said.
“I didn’t think you’d care much for that argument,” he responded
cheerfully. “It was somewhat in the nature of an experiment, you see.
But the real unanswerable reason is this: I have missed seeing you
very much, I have been very dull, you are naturally kind-hearted and
would not unnecessarily cause pain or disappointment, and I beg of you
to give me a few moments of your cheerful society! Is that――better?”
“I don’t particularly care for it.”
“Miss Devereux――――”
“What have I told you?” she warned.
“I beg pardon! But――now, really, please let me call you by a Christian
name! I――I’d like to graduate from mythology.”
“I don’t think it would be proper for you to call me by my Christian
name,” she answered demurely.
“A Christian name, I said,” he answered patiently. “Tell me why you
don’t want me to address you as Miss Devereux, please.”
“Because――――” She stopped and dropped her gaze. “We’ve never been
properly introduced, have we?”
“True! Allow me, pray! Miss Devereux, may I present Mr. Parmley? Mr.
Parmley, Miss Devereux!” He stepped forward, smiling politely and
murmuring his pleasure, and ere she knew what was happening he was
shaking hands with her. “Awfully glad to meet you, Miss Devereux!” he
assured her cordially.
[Illustration]
She backed away, striving to draw her hand from his, and laughing
merrily.
“Is that what you call a proper introduction?” she asked.
“Well, it’s the best I could do under the circumstances,” Ethan
answered. “Having no mutual acquaintances handy, you see――――”
“Don’t you think――you might let go now?” she asked, her laughter dying
down to a nervous smile.
“Let go?” he echoed questioningly.
“Please! You have my hand!”
He looked down at it in mild surprise; then into her face.
“Isn’t that the strangest thing? I was never so surprised――――!”
“But――Mr. Parmley, please let go,” she begged.
“You don’t mean to say that I still have it?” He tried to seem at ease
and to speak carelessly, but his heart was pounding as though striving
to do the Anvil Chorus all by itself, and his voice wasn’t quite steady.
“I do,” she answered coldly, biting her lip a little. A disk of red
burned in each cheek. Her eyes were fixed on his imprisoning hand.
“Besides, you are hurting me,” she added, falling back upon the fib
which is a woman’s last resource in such a quandary. But he shook his
head soberly.
“Pardon me, but that’s impossible. You will observe that my hand is
quite loose about yours. Accuse me of unlawful detention, if you wish,
but not of cruelty.”
“But――but it is my hand,” she protested faintly.
“Well, that is nothing to boast of,” he replied smiling somewhat
tremulously. She had kept her eyes from him all along and he was
determined to see them before he gave up. “Look at mine; it’s twice as
big!”
The brown lashes fluttered for an instant and Ethan nerved himself for
the shock of looking into those violet eyes. He didn’t know what was
going to happen, he assured himself in a sudden delicious panic, and
he didn’t much care. Probably he would do something awfully rude,
something that would frighten and anger her, something for which she
would never forgive him! Perhaps the sudden trembling of his hand about
hers warned her, for the lashes lay still again. A moment of silence
followed, during which Ethan’s heart threatened to choke him. Then all
at once the little warm hand ceased tugging and lay limp and inert in
his. She turned her head and looked toward the trees and the shade.
“If we are going to hold hands for any length of time,” she remarked
coolly, “perhaps we had better sit down and be comfortable.”
Ethan released her instantly, while a wave of burning color swept
across his face. He felt terribly small and ridiculous! He realized
that he had taken it for granted that she had been experiencing
emotions similar to his own, and instead of that she had been only
bored and――and exasperated! He followed her laggingly up the slope,
savagely calling himself names and meditating a retirement in such
order as was still possible. She seated herself comfortably on the
grass with her back against the smooth round trunk of a maple and
patted down her skirts. Then she glanced up at him calmly.
“Do you realize,” she asked, “that you have made me late for church?”
He was grateful for that ready change of subject and piqued that she
should be so little disconcerted. His own heart was still dancing.
“I am an humble instrument of Providence,” he answered as lightly as he
could, dropping to the ground at a respectful distance from the tips
of her small shoes.
[Illustration]
“That sounds a little sacrilegious,” she said. “Besides――_humble_?”
“Humble, yes,” he answered. “I can’t think of a better word, unless it
is ‘abashed.’”
“But why do you call yourself an instrument of Providence? Because you
live there?”
“‘That sounds a little sacrilegious,’” he quoted. “I meant that if you
had gone to church you would have made yourself very warm and possibly
returned with a headache. I have saved you from that.”
“Thank you! But of course if it hadn’t been for the introduction I
couldn’t have stayed!”
“That is understood,” he responded with becoming gravity. She smiled
across as though amused by some thought, and Ethan felt vaguely
uncomfortable.
“It’s possible,” she said thoughtfully, “that you might have found a
mutual acquaintance after all to perform the ceremony for you.”
“Oh, I dare say; one usually can if one hunts long enough. It’s a
common enough process, and not especially difficult. For instance, I
ask, ‘You are acquainted in Boston, Miss Dev――Miss Unknown!’ You reply
‘Slightly, Mr. Parmley.’ ‘Perhaps you know the Smiths?’ ‘Smith, Smith?
N――no, I don’t think so. Are they friends of the Joneses?’ ‘I dare
say; I’ve never met the Joneses. Come to think of it, though, there
were some Joneses visiting the Robinsons at Nahant last summer; he is
a banker, I think; there were two daughters and a son just entering
college,’ ‘Oh, were you at Nahant?’ you inquire. ‘Then perhaps you
met the Browns there?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Really? Isn’t that jolly? Did you know
Gwendolin?’ ‘Well, rather!’ I reply in a tone insinuating that it
was rather desperate while it lasted. ‘Isn’t that odd?’ you exclaim.
‘Yes, funny how small the world is, isn’t it?’ I remark with startling
originality. Then we’re acquainted. Yes, it’s simplicity itself.”
“It certainly sounds so!” she laughed. “Let us try it!”
“Very well.”
She frowned intently for a moment, then,
“Are you acquainted in Stillhaven, Mr. Parmley?” she asked.
“Why, yes,” he answered, in surprise.
“Then perhaps you know the――the Penniwells?”
“Sorry to say I don’t,” he replied, laughing.
“No? They live in the next house to the hotel.”
“Hotel? Ah, I think I’ve met the Hotels! Was there a son about my age,
with――――”
“Don’t be absurd!” she laughed. “We’ll never get on if you don’t go by
the rules.”
“I thought I was,” he answered.
“Let me see! Oh, yes, the Graveses, do you know them?”
“Why, yes; do you?” he answered interestedly.
“I’ve met them.”
“Vincent is a great friend of mine,” he said eagerly. “I was on my way
to visit them for a while when――when I stopped here.”
“Really?” she cried. “How small the world is, after all!”
They laughed together. Then,
“And you know Vin?” he asked.
“Yes, I――I’ve met him,” she replied. Her tone hinted of embarrassment.
“Oh!” said Ethan thoughtfully. Had he discovered the explanation of
Vincent’s puzzling warning? Was the girl before him the “preserves”
referred to by his friend? Ethan’s heart sank for a moment. Nonsense!
She had plainly implied that she knew him only slightly, in which case
she didn’t belong any more to Vin than to him. “You don’t know him very
well, then?” he questioned anxiously.
“Aren’t you a――well, just a weeny bit inquisitive?” she asked smilingly.
“It may sound so,” he acknowledged, “but, you see, it means a good deal
to me; it’s rather important.”
[Illustration]
“Important?” she repeated wonderingly.
“Yes, you see――――” But of course he couldn’t explain why it was
important. So he floundered helplessly a moment. “Yes――that is――well,
they are very good friends of mine, Vin especially, and――”
“Oh, you feared perhaps I wasn’t a proper person for them to know?”
“Good heaven, no!”
“Then I don’t see――――!”
“I don’t blame you,” he said discouragedly. “Really, I was only talking
nonsense. I――I thought that if you knew them well, and I knew them
well, then we――we might know each other well!”
She gazed at him sorrowfully a moment. Then she shook her head
disappointedly.
“No,” she said, “no, that wasn’t at all what you meant. I suppose even
studying for the law has its effect.”
He laughed embarrassedly.
“May I see what you are reading?” he asked.
She lifted the volume from her lap, gravely took a folded handkerchief
from between the leaves where it had been doing duty as a mark, and
handed him the book.
“I’m sorry you can’t trust me,” he laughed.
“So am I,” was the regretful response. “It is terrible to have a friend
both a――a prevaricator and a――a――a――――”
“Embezzler,” he suggested helpfully. “Yes, it is bad. ‘Love Sonnets
from the Portuguese,’” he continued, reading the title. “May I ask if
you were going to take this to church with you?”
“I hadn’t thought of it. I suppose, like most men, you consider them
silly and sentimental,” she challenged.
He shook his head.
“Sweet and sentimental, rather,” he replied.
“You could hardly be expected to care for them, I suppose,” she said.
“Your tastes, if I recollect aright, run rather toward ‘The Ingoldsby
Legends’!”
“That is indeed unkind,” he murmured sorrowfully. “No, I am very fond
of these, this one especially; if it were not Sunday I would read it.”
“What has Sunday got to do with it?” she asked.
“Perhaps nothing,” was the reply. “I dare say it is only my Puritanism
cropping out. You know we New Englanders find it very difficult
to reconcile pleasure with religion. I can fancy the ghost of my
great-great-great-grandfather, in sugar-loaf hat and with beruffed
neck, standing over there in the shadows, holding his hands aloft in
holy horror at the sight of me sitting here on Sunday morning with a
volume of love-poems in my hands.”
“What nonsense!” she cried indignantly. “Isn’t love just as holy as――as
anything? Isn’t――――” She stopped abruptly and Ethan, lifting his head,
found her gazing toward him with something almost like horror in her
wide eyes.
“What is it?” he cried anxiously.
She shook her head and dropped her gaze to the hands folded on her
knees.
“Nothing,” she said very quietly. She laughed softly, uncertainly.
“Will you give me my book, please?” she asked.
“Of course,” he answered, still puzzled. Then, as he started to hand it
to her, it opened at the fly-leaf and he drew it back. “Laura Frances
Devereux,” he read aloud. He smiled quizzically as he returned the
volume.
“That proves nothing,” she replied defiantly. “I――I might have borrowed
it.”
“True, circumstantial evidence is not absolutely conclusive,
unless――unless there is a good deal of it!”
“You may think what you choose,” she answered lightly. She looked at
her watch and prepared to rise. This time Ethan was ready. She gave him
her hand and he helped her to her feet. The hand drew itself gently but
determinedly out of his and he let it go without a struggle.
[Illustration]
“Must you go?” he asked.
She nodded. Then she laughed.
“If you only knew what trouble I have getting here you’d appreciate――――”
She broke off, reddening a little.
“I do appreciate,” he said earnestly. “And I thank you very much for
your kindness this morning to a very undeserving chap. I――do you know,
Miss Devereux, I came within an ace of calling at The Larches yesterday
afternoon?”
She looked up quickly.
“Yes, I went for a walk in the afternoon and found myself at the gate
over there. I could see that you had a fire in the library and――――”
“But how did you know it was the library?” she asked.
“Why――er――wasn’t it? I supposed it was. Anyhow, it looked dreadfully
tempting. I pictured you sitting in front of it, and I very nearly paid
a call.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” she breathed.
“Why?”
“Because――why, you don’t know me!”
“I should have asked for your father and introduced myself.”
“Well, you certainly don’t lack assurance!” she gasped.
“It would have been all right,” he assured her cheerfully.
“You wouldn’t have found him, though,” she said dryly.
“Then I would have asked for Mrs. Devereux, and, failing her, Miss
Devereux. You see, yesterday I was a bit desperate,” he added smilingly.
“Desperate! I should say foolhardy!”
“Why? Because I wanted to see you? Look here, please; why shouldn’t I
call on you at the house? As I’ve told you, I’m fairly respectable.
And――and I want to see you――more often! I suppose it sounds dreadfully
cheeky,” he went on softly, “but I want you to like me, and it doesn’t
seem to me that I get a fair show.”
The color came and went in her cheeks and the violets were hidden from
him.
“It certainly does sound――cheeky, as you call it,” she said after a
moment, rather unsteadily. “Considering that you have seen me but four
times.”
“Five, if you please. Besides, I don’t see that that matters. In fact,
I rather think the mischief was done the first time!”
He captured her hand and for a moment it only fluttered in his grasp.
Then it tried for liberty, but unsuccessfully. A moment passed, and,
“Are you making love to me, Mr. Parmley?” she asked, with a little
amused laugh. It was like a cold douche, but he resisted his first
impulse to release her.
[Illustration]
“Yes, I am,” he answered stoutly. “That’s just what I’m doing! And I’m
going to keep on doing it until I’m convinced that there’s no hope for
me. Please don’t struggle,” he continued, capturing her other hand
also. “I’ll let you go in just a moment. Maybe I’m behaving a good deal
like a bully, but I’m head-over-heels in love with you, Laura, and――――”
“No, no! Please!” she cried, with a little catch in her voice.
“What――what have I done?” he asked anxiously.
“I――You mustn’t call me that!”
“Very well, I won’t――yet. But I think of you as Laura――――”
“I don’t want you to!”
“Then I’ll try not to,” he answered gently. “But――couldn’t you make me
very happy by telling me that I’ve got a chance with you, dear? Just
the ghost of a chance?”
The bowed head shook negatively.
“You won’t? Or――you can’t?”
“I――I won’t,” she whispered.
He uttered a cry and strove to draw her toward him, but she resisted
with all her strength.
“Please! _Please!_” she gasped.
“I’ll――try not to,” he said ruefully. “But I may call at the house?
You’ll let me do that, won’t you?”
“I――suppose so,” she murmured faintly.
“To-day?” he cried. “To-morrow?”
“No, no! Wait, please; let me think.” She raised a pair of troubled
eyes to his for an instant. “I must see you again first. I have
something to tell you; something which may make a difference.
Perhaps――perhaps you won’t want to see me again――then!”
He laughed disdainfully.
“Try me! And when will you tell me this――this wonderful news? To-morrow
morning? Here?”
She nodded and strove to release her hands. After a moment of
indecision he let them go. She stood before him motionless an instant.
Then she raised her head slowly and he saw that her eyes were wet. With
an inarticulate cry of pain and longing he started forward, but she
held a hand against him.
“Please!” she said again, imploringly. His outstretched arms dropped
to his sides. “If I shouldn’t come――to-morrow――――” she began.
“But you’ve promised!”
“I know.” She nodded assent. “But――but if I shouldn’t――――”
“But you will!” he cried. “I shall be here, dear! Don’t fail me! If you
don’t come I’ll go to the house!”
“Then I must,” she said with a little smile. “And now――――” She went to
him and placed her hands on his shoulders and felt him tremble under
her touch. She raised her eyes, violets darkened and dewy with unshed
tears, to his. “Will you do one thing for me?”
[Illustration: SHE WENT TO HIM AND PLACED HER HANDS ON HIS SHOULDERS.]
His eyes answered.
“Then, please,――” she dropped her head in sudden shame――“kiss me
once――and let me go.”
His arms closed about her hungrily, but she held back.
“Promise!” she whispered “Promise to let me go!”
“Yes,” he groaned, “I promise.”
For an instant he was looking far, far down into dim, wonderful violet
depths....
Then he was alone. He turned unseeingly toward the canoe and trod upon
the book which lay forgotten on the grass. Stooping, he rescued it and
dropped it into his pocket.
“I’m getting to be an awful thief!” he murmured tremulously.
[Illustration]