IV

[Illustration]

Because of the odd channel in which his thoughts were running, Maltham

had the still odder fancy for an instant that the young girl who

entered the room was the dead Ulrica of whom the Major had spoken--"a

queen, and of a line of queens." And even when this thought had

passed--so quickly that it was gone before he had risen to his feet to

greet her--the impression of her queenliness remained. For this living

woman bearing a dead name might have been Aslauga herself: so tall and

stately was she, and so fair with that cold beauty of the North of

which the soul is fire. Instinctively he felt the fire, and knew that

it still slumbered--and knew, too, that in the fulness of time, being

awakened, it would glow with a consuming splendour in her dark eyes.

All this went in a flash through his mind before the Major said:

"Pehmit me, Mr. Maltham, to present yo' to my daughteh, Miss Ulrica

Ashley." And added: "Mr. Maltham was passing, Ulrica, and did me the

honeh to accept my invitation to come in."

She put down the pitcher of water and gave Maltham her hand. "It

was very kind of you, sir," she said gravely. "We do not have many

visitors, and my father gets lonely with only me. It was very kind of

you, sir, indeed." She spoke with a certain precision, and with a very

slight accent--so slight that Maltham did not immediately notice it.

What he did notice, with her first words, was the curiously thrilling

quality of her low-pitched and very rich voice.

"And don't you get lonely too?" he asked.

"Why no," she answered with a little air of surprise. And speaking

slowly, as though she were working the matter out in her mind, she

added: "With me it is different, you see. I was born here on the Point

and I love it. And then I have the house to look after. And I have my

boat. And I can talk with the neighbours--though I do not often care

to. Father cannot talk with them, because he does not know Swedish as

I do. When he wants company he has to go all the way up to town. You

see, it is not the same with us at all." And then, as though she had

explained the matter sufficiently, she turned to the Major and asked:

"Do you want anything more, father?"

"Nothing mo', my child--except that an extra place is to be set at

table. Mr. Maltham will dine with us, of co'se."

At this Maltham protested a little; but presently yielded to Ulrica's,

"You will be doing a real kindness to father if you will stay, Mr.

Maltham," backed by the Major's peremptory: "Yo' ah my prisoneh, suh,

and in Eutaw Castle we don't permit ouah prisonehs to stahve!" The

matter being thus settled, Ulrica made a little formal bow and left the

room.

"The wateh is at youah sehvice, suh," said the Major as the door

closed behind her. "I beg that yo' will dilute youah liquoh to youah

liking. Heah's to youah very good health, suh--and to ouah betteh

acquaintance." He drank his whiskey appreciatively, and as he set down

his empty glass continued: "May I ask, suh, if yo' ah living in Duluth,

oh mehly passing through? I ventuah to ask because a resident of this

town sca'cely would be likely to come down on the Point at this time of

yeah."

"I began to be a resident only day before yesterday," Maltham answered.

"I've come to take charge here of our steamers--the Sunrise Line."

"The Sunrise Line!" repeated the Major in a very eager tone. "The

biggest transpo'tation line on the lakes. The line of which that great

capitalist Mr. John L. Maltham is president. And to think, suh, that I

did not recognize youah name!"

"John L. Maltham is my father," the young man said.

"Why, of co'se, of co'se! I might have had the sense to know that as

soon as I looked at youah cahd. This is a most fo'tunate meeting,

Mr. Maltham--most fo'tunate for both of us. I shall not on this

occasion, when yo' ah my guest, enteh into a discussion of business

mattehs. But at an eahly day I shall have the honeh to lay befo' yo'

convincing reasons why youah tehminal docks should be established heah

on the Point--which a beneficent Providence cleahly intended to be

the shipping centeh of this metropolis--and prefehrably, suh, as the

meahest glance at a chaht of the bay will demonstrate, heah on my land.

Yo' will have the first choice of the wha'ves which I have projected;

and I may even say, suh, that any altehrations which will affo'd mo'

convenient accommodations to youah vessels still ah possible. Yes, suh,

the matteh has not gone so fah but that any reasonable changes which

yo' may desiah may yet be made."

Remembering the sedgy swamps beside which he had passed that morning,

Maltham was satisfied that the Major's concluding statement was well

within the bounds of truth. But he was not prepared to meet off-hand so

radical a proposition, and while he was fumbling in his mind for some

sort of non-committal answer the Major went on again.

"It is not fo' myself, suh," he said, "that I desiah to realize this

magnificent undehtaking. Living heah costs little, and what I get

from renting my land to camping pahties and fo' picnics gives me all

I need. And I'm an old man, anyway, and whetheh I die rich oh pore

don't matteh. It's fo' my daughteh's sake that I seek wealth, suh, not

fo' my own. That deah child of mine is heh sainted motheh oveh again,

Mr. Maltham--except that heh motheh's eyes weh blue. That is the only

diffehrence. And beside heh looks she has identically the same sweet

natuah, suh--the same exquisite goodness and beauty of haht. When my

great loss came to me," the Major's voice broke badly, "it was my love

fo' that deah child kept me alive. It breaks my haht, suh, to think of

dying and leaving heh heah alone and pore."

Maltham had got to his bearings by this time and was able to frame a

reasonably diplomatic reply. "Well, perhaps we'd better not go into

the matter to-day," he said. "You see, our line has traffic agreements

with the N. P. and the Northwestern that must hold for the present,

anyway. And then I've only just taken charge, you know, and I must look

around a little before I do anything at all. But I might write to my

father to come up here when he can, and then he and you could have a

talk."

The Major's look of eager cheerfulness faded at the beginning of

this cooling rejoinder, but he brightened again at its end. "A talk

with youah fatheh, suh," he answered, "would suit me down to the

ground-flo'. An oppo'tunity to discuss this great matteh info'mally

with a great capitalist has been what I've most desiahed fo' yeahs.

But I beg youah pahdon, suh. I am fo'getting the sacred duties of

hospitality. Pehmit me to fill youah glass."

It seemed to pain him that his guest refused this invitation; but,

finding him obdurate, he kept the sacred duties of hospitality in

working order by exercising them freely upon himself. "Heah's to

the glorious futuah of Minnesotah Point, suh!" he said as he raised

his glass--and it was obvious that he would be off again upon the

exploitation of his hopelessly impossible project as soon as he put it

down. Greatly to Maltham's relief, the door opened at that juncture and

Ulrica entered to call them to dinner; and he was still more relieved,

when they were seated at table, by finding that his host dropped

business matters and left the glorious future of Minnesota Point

hanging in the air.

At his own table, indeed, the Major was quite at his best. He told good

stories of his army life, and of his adventurous wanderings which ended

when he struck Duluth just at the beginning of its first "boom"; and

very entertaining was what he had to tell of that metropolis in its

embryotic days.

But good though the Major's stories were, Maltham found still more

interesting the Major's daughter--who spoke but little, and who seemed

to be quite lost at times in her own thoughts. As he sat slightly

turned toward her father he could feel her eyes fixed upon him; and

more than once, facing about suddenly, he met her look full. When this

happened she was not disconcerted, nor did she immediately look away

from him--and he found himself thrilled curiously by her deeply intent

gaze. Yet the very frankness of it gave it a quality that was not

precisely flattering. He had the feeling that she was studying him in

much the same spirit that she would have studied some strange creature

that she might have come across in her walks in the woods. When he

tried to bring her into the talk he did not succeed; but this was

mainly because the Major invariably cut in before he could get beyond

a direct question and a direct reply. Only once--when her father made

some reference to her love for sailing--was her reserve, which was not

shyness, a little broken; and the few words that she spoke before the

Major broke in again were spoken so very eagerly that Maltham resolved

to bring her back to that subject when he could get the chance. Knowing

something of the ways of women, he knew that to set her to talking

about anything in which she was profoundly interested would lower her

guard at all points--and so would enable him to come in touch with her

thoughts. He wanted to get at her thoughts. He was sure that they were

not of a commonplace kind.

V

[Illustration]

When the dinner was ended he made a stroke for the chance that he

wanted. "Will you show me your boat?" he asked. "I'm a bit of a sailor

myself, and I should like to see her very much indeed."

"Oh, would you? I am so glad!" she answered eagerly. And then added

more quietly: "It is a real pleasure to show you the _Nixie_. I am very

fond of her and very proud of her. Father gave her to me three years

ago--after he sold a lot over in West Superior. And it was very good of

him, because he does not like sailing at all. Will you come now? It is

only a step down to the wharf."

The Major declared that he must have his after-dinner pipe in comfort,

and they went off without him--going out by a side door and across a

half-acre of kitchen-garden, still in winter disorder, to the wharf

on the bay-side where the _Nixie_ was moored. She was a half-decked

twenty-foot cat-boat, clean in her lines and with the look of being

able to hold her own pretty well in a blow.

"Is she not beautiful?" Ulrica asked with great pride. And presently,

when Maltham came to a pause in his praises, she added hesitatingly:

"Would you--would you care to come out in her for a little while?"

"Indeed I would!" he answered instantly and earnestly.

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" Ulrica exclaimed. "I do want you to see how

wonderfully she sails!"

The boat was moored with her stern close to the wharf and with her bow

made fast to an outstanding stake. When they had boarded her Ulrica

cast off the stern mooring, ran the boat out to the stake and made fast

with a short hitch, and then--as the boat swung around slowly in the

slack air under the land--set about hoisting the sail. She would not

permit Maltham to help her. He sat aft, steadying the tiller, watching

with delight her vigorous dexterity and her display of absolute

strength. When she had sheeted home and made fast she cast off the

bow mooring, and then stepped aft quickly and took the tiller from his

hand. For a few moments they drifted slowly. Then the breeze, coming

over the tree-tops, caught them and she leaned forward and dropped the

centreboard and brought the boat on the wind. It was a leading wind,

directly off the lake, that enabled them to make a single leg of it

across the bay. As the boat heeled over Maltham shifted his seat to the

weather side. This brought him a little in front of Ulrica, and below

her as she stood to steer. From under the bows came a soft hissing and

bubbling as the boat slid rapidly along.

"Is she not wonderful?" Ulrica asked with a glowing enthusiasm. "Just

see how we are dropping that big sloop over yonder--and the Nixie not

half her size! But the _Nixie_ is well bred, you see, and the sloop is

not. She is as heavy all over as the _Nixie_ is clean and fine. Father

says that breeding is everything--in boats and in horses and in men.

He says that a gentleman is the finest thing that God ever created. It

was because the Southerners all were gentlemen that they whipped the

Yankees, you know."

"But they didn't--the Yankees whipped them."

"Only in the last few battles, father says--and those did not count, so

far as the principle is concerned," Ulrica answered conclusively.

Maltham did not see his way to replying to this presentation of the

matter and was silent. Presently she went on, with a slight air of

apology: "I hope you did not mind my looking at you so much while we

were at dinner, Mr. Maltham. You see, except father, you are the only

gentleman I ever have had a chance to look at close, that way, in my

whole life. Father will not have much to do with the people living up

in town. Most of them are Yankees, and he does not like them. None of

them ever come to see us. The only people I ever talk with are our

neighbours; and they are just common people, you know--though some of

them are as good as they can be. And as father always is talking about

what a gentleman ought to be or ought not to be it is very interesting

really to meet one. That was the reason why I stared at you so. I hope

you did not mind."

"I'm glad I interested you, even if it was only as a specimen of a

class," Maltham answered. "I hope that you found me a good specimen."

Her simplicity was so refreshing that he sought by a leading question

to induce a farther exhibition of it. "What is your ideal of a

gentleman?" he asked.

"Oh, just the ordinary one," she replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"A gentleman must be absolutely brave, and must kill any man who

insults him--or, at least, must hurt him badly. He must be absolutely

honest--though he is not bound, of course, to tell all that he knows

when he is selling a horse. He must be absolutely true to the woman he

loves, and must never deceive her in any way. He must not refuse to

drink with another gentleman unless he is willing to fight him. He must

protect women and children. He must always be courteous--though he may

be excused for a little rudeness when he has been drinking and so is

not quite himself. He must be hospitable--ready to share his last crust

with anybody, and his last drink with anybody of his class. And he must

know how to ride and shoot and play the principal games of cards. Those

are the main things. You are all that, are you not?"

She looked straight at him as she asked this question, speaking still

in the same entirely matter-of-fact tone. But Maltham did not look

straight back at her as he answered it. The creed that she set forth

had queer articles in it, but its essentials were searching--so

searching that his look was directed rather indefinitely toward the

horizon as he replied, a little weakly perhaps: "Why, of course."

She seemed to be content with this not wholly conclusive answer;

but as he was not content with it himself, and rather dreaded a

cross-examination, he somewhat suddenly shifted the talk to a subject

that he was sure would engross her thoughts. "How splendidly the

_Nixie_ goes!" he said. "She is a racer, and no mistake!"

"Indeed she is!" Ulrica exclaimed, with the fervour upon which he had

counted. "She is the very fastest boat on the bay. And then she is so

weatherly! Why, I can sail her into the very eye of the wind!"

"Yes, she has the look of being weatherly. But she wouldn't be if you

didn't manage her so well. Who taught you how to sail?"

"It was old Gustav Bergmann--one of the fishermen here on the Point,

you know. And he said," she went on with a little touch of pride, "that

he never could have made such a good sailor of me if I had not had it

in my blood--because I am a Swede."

"But you are an American."

Ulrica did not answer him immediately, and when she did speak it was

with the same curiously slow thoughtfulness that he had observed when

she was explaining the difference between her father's life and her own

life in the solitude of Minnesota Point.

"I do not think I am," she said. "I do not know many American women,

but I am not like any American woman I know. You see, I am very like

my mother. Father says so, and I feel it--I cannot tell you just how I

feel it, but I do. For one thing, I am more than half a savage, father

says--like some of the wild Indians he has known. He is in fun, of

course, when he says that; but he really is right, I am sure. Did you

ever want to kill anybody, Mr. Maltham?"

"No," said Maltham with a laugh, "I never did. Did you?"

Ulrica remained grave. "Yes," she answered, "and I almost did it, too.

You see, it was this way: A man, one of the campers down on the Point,

was rude to me. He was drunk, I think. But I did not think about his

being drunk, and that I ought to make allowances for him. Somehow, I

had not time to think. Everything got red suddenly--and before I knew

what I was doing I had out my knife. The man gave a scream--not a cry,

but a real scream: he must have been a great coward, I suppose--and

jumped away just as I struck at him. I cut his arm a little, I think.

But I am not sure, for he ran away as hard as he could run. I was very

sorry that I had not killed him. I am very sorry still whenever I think

about it. Now that was not like an American woman. At least, I do not

know any American woman who would try to kill a man that way because

she really could not help trying to. Do you?"

"No," Maltham answered, drawing a quick breath that came close to being

a gasp. Ulrica's entire placidity, and her argumentative manner, had

made her story rather coldly thrilling--and it was quite thrilling

enough without those adjuncts, he thought.

She seemed pleased that his answer confirmed her own opinion. "Yes, I

think I am right about myself," she went on. "I am sure that it is my

Swedish blood that makes me like that. We do not often get angry, you

know, we Swedes: but when we do, our anger is rage. We do not think

nor reason. Suddenly we see red, as I did that day, and we want to

strike to kill. It is queer, is it not, that we should be made like

that?"

Maltham certainly was discovering the strange thoughts that he had

set himself to search for. They rather set his nerves on edge. As she

uttered her calm reflection upon the oddity of the Swedish temperament

he shivered a little.

"I am afraid that you are cold," she said anxiously. "Shall we go

about? Father will not like it if I make you uncomfortable."

"I am not at all cold," he answered. "And the sailing is delightful.

Don't let us go about yet."

"Well, if you are quite sure that you are not cold, we will not. I do

want to take you down to the inlet and show you what a glorious sea is

running on the lake to-day. It is only half a mile more."

They sailed on for a little while in silence. The swift send of the

boat through the water seemed so to fill Ulrica with delight that she

did not care to speak--nor did Maltham, who was busied with his own

confused thoughts. Suddenly some new and startling concepts of manhood

and of womanhood had been thrust into his mind. They puzzled him,

and he was not at all sure that he liked them. But he was absolutely

sure that this curious and very beautiful woman who had uttered them

interested him more profoundly than any woman whom ever he had known.

That fact also bothered him, and he tried to blink it. That he could

not blink it was one reason why his thoughts were confused. Presently,

being accustomed to slide along the lines of least resistance, he gave

up trying. "After all," was his conclusion, so far as he came to a

conclusion, "it is only for a day."