[Illustration]
Maltham left his office early the next afternoon and went down the
Point again. He had no headache, the wind had shifted to the southward,
and all about him was a flood of spring sunshine. Yet even under these
cheerful conditions he found the Point rather drearily desolate. He
gave the graveyard a wide berth when he came to it, and looked away
from it. His desire was strong that he might forget where he had
seen Ulrica's name for the first time. He was not superstitious,
exactly; but his sub-consciousness that the direction in which he
was sliding--along the lines of least resistance--was at least
questionable, made him rather open to feelings about bad and good luck.
Being arrived at Eutaw Castle, he inferred from what the Major said
and from what Ulrica looked that the domestic storm of the previous day
had been a vigorous one--and was glad that he had kept out of it. But
it had blown over pretty well, and his good-natured chaff about their
adventure swept away the few remaining clouds.
"It is vehy handsome of yo', suh," said the Major, "to treat the matteh
as yo' do. My daughteh's conduct was most inexcusable--fo' when she
cahried yo' into that great dangeh she broke heh sacred wo'd to me."
"But it was quite as much my fault as hers," Maltham answered. "I
should not have let her go. You see, the sailing was so delightfully
exciting that we both lost our heads a little. Luckily, I got mine back
before it was too late."
"Yo' behaved nobly, suh, nobly! My daughteh has told me how youah only
thought was of heh dangeh, and how white yo' went when yo' realized
youah inability to save heh if the boat went down. Those weh the
feelings of a gentleman, suh, and of a vehy gallant gentleman--such as
yo' suahly ah. Youah conduct could not have been fineh, Mr. Maltham,
had yo' been bo'n and bred in South Cahrolina. Suh, I can say no mo'
than that!"
Ulrica took little part in the talk. Her eyes were dull and she moved
languidly, as though she were weary. Not until her father left the
room--going to fetch his maps and charts, that he might demonstrate the
Point's glorious future--did she speak freely.
"I could not sleep last night, Mr. Maltham," she said hurriedly. "I
lay awake the whole night--thinking about what I had done, and about
what you must think about me for doing it. If I had drowned you, after
breaking my word to father that way, it would have been almost murder.
It was very noble of you, just now, to say that it was as much your
fault as it was mine. But it was not. It was my fault all the way
through."
"But the danger was just as great for you as it was for me," Maltham
answered. "You would have been drowned too, you know."
"Oh, that would not have counted. It would not have counted at all. I
should have got only what I deserved."
Maltham came close to her and took her hand. "Don't you think that it
would have counted for a good deal to _me_?" he asked. Then he dropped
her hand quickly and moved away from her as the Major re-entered the
room.
Inasmuch as he would have been drowned along with her, this speech was
lacking in logic; but Ulrica, who was not on the lookout for logic
just then, was more than satisfied with it. Suddenly she was elate
again. For the dread that had kept her wakeful had vanished: his second
thoughts about the peril into which she had taken him had not set him
against her--he still was the same! She could not answer him with her
lips, but she answered him with her eyes.
Maltham's feelings were complex as he saw the effect that his words
had upon her. He had made several resolutions not to say anything of
that sort to her again. Even if she did like flirting (as he had put
it in his own mind) it was not quite the thing, under the existing
conditions, for him to flirt with her. He resolutely kept the word
flirting well forward in his thoughts. It agreeably qualified the
entire situation. As he very well knew, Miss Strangford was not above
flirting herself. But it was not easy to classify under that head
Ulrica's sudden change in manner and the look that she had given him.
In spite of himself, his first impression of her would come back and
get in the way of the new impression that he very much wished to form.
When he first had seen her--only the day before, but time does not
count in the ordinary way in the case of those who have been close to
the gates of death together--he had felt the fire that was in her, and
had known that it slumbered. After what he had just seen in her eyes he
could not conquer the conviction that the fire slumbered no longer and
that he had kindled its strong flame.
Nor did he wholly wish to conquer this conviction. It was thrillingly
delightful to think that he had gained so great a power over her, for
all her queenliness, in so short a time. Over Miss Strangford--the
contrast was a natural one--he had very little power. That young lady
was not queenly, but she had a notable aptitude for ruling--and came
by it honestly, from a father whose hard head and hard hand made him
conspicuous even among Chicago men of affairs. It was her strength that
had attracted him to her; and the discovery that with her strength was
sweetness that had made him love her. He was satisfied that she loved
him in return--but he could not fancy her giving him such a look as
Ulrica had just given him; still less could he fancy her whole being
irradiated by a touch and a word.
And so he came again to the same half-formed conclusion that he had
come to in the boat on the preceding day: he would let matters drift
along pleasantly a little farther before he set them as they should be
with a strong hand.
This chain of thought went through his mind while the Major was
exhibiting the maps and expounding the Point's future; and his
half-conclusion was a little hastened by the Major's abrupt stop, and
sudden facing about upon him with: "I feah, suh, that yo' do not quite
follow me. If I have not made myself cleah, suh, I will present the
matteh in anotheh way."
Maltham shot a quizzical glance at Ulrica--which made her think that
she knew where his thoughts had been wool-gathering, and so brought
more light to her eyes--and answered with a becoming gravity: "The fact
is I didn't quite catch the point that you were making, Major, and I'll
be very much obliged if you'll take the trouble to go over it again."
"It is no trouble--it is a pleasuah, suh," the Major replied with an
animated affability. And with that he was off again, and ran on for
an hour or more--until he had established the glorious future of
Minnesota Point in what he believed to be convincing terms. "When the
time to which I am looking fo'wa'd comes, Mr. Maltham, and it will come
vehy soon, suh," he said in enthusiastic conclusion, "it stands to
reason that the fortunes of this great metropolis of the No'thwest will
be fo'eveh and unchangeably established. Only I must wahn yo', suh,
that we must begin to get ready fo' it right away. We must take time by
the fo'lock and provide at once--I say at once, suh--fo' the needs of
that magnificent futuah that is almost heah now!"
He took a long breath as he finished his peroration, and then came down
smiling to the level of ordinary conversation and added: "I feah, Mr.
Maltham, that I pehmit my enthusiasm to get away with me a little. I
feah I may even boah yo', suh. I promise not to say anotheh wohd on
the subject this evening. And now, as it is only a little while befo'
suppeh, we cannot do betteh, suh, than to take a drink."
Maltham had not intended to stay to supper. He even had intended not
to. But he did--and on through the evening until the Major had to warn
him that he either must consent to sleep in Eutaw Castle or else
hurry along up the Point before the ferry-boat stopped running for the
night. The Major urged him warmly to stay. Finding that his invitation
certainly would not be accepted, he went off for a lantern--and was
rather put out when Maltham declined it and said that he could find his
way very well by the light of the stars.
Actually, Maltham did not find his way very well by the light of the
stars. Two or three times he ran against trees. Once--this was while he
was trying to give the graveyard a wide offing--he stumbled over a root
and fell heavily. When he got up again he found that he had wrenched
his leg, and that every step he took gave him intense pain. But he was
glad of his flounderings against trees, and of his fall and the keen
pain that followed it--for he was savage with himself.
And yet it was not his fault, he grumbled. Why had the Major gone off
that way to hunt up a lantern--and so left them alone? Toward the end
of his walk--his pain having quieted his excitement, and so lessened
his hatred of himself--he added much more lightly: "But what does a
single kiss amount to, after all?"