Part 25 (1/2)
She started back, with a heart-broken gesture.
”But you are imbecile, my darling mother!” cried Narcisse, throwing himself on her in terror. ”The Englishman will become angry,--he will leave us. Give him your hand, and let us go from this place,” and, resolutely seizing her fluttering fingers in his own soft ones, he directed them to Vesper's strong, true clasp.
”Go stone the bears again, Narcisse,” said the young man, with a strange quiver in his voice. ”I will talk to your mother about going back to the inn. See, she is not well;” for Rose had bowed her weary head on her arm.
”Yes, talk to her,” said the child, ”that is good, and, above all, do not let her hand go. She runs from me sometimes, the little naughty mother,” and, with affected roguishness that, however, concealed a certain anxiety, he put his head on one side, and stared affectionately at her as he left the cave.
He had gone some distance, and Vesper had already whispered a few words in Rose's ear, when he returned and stared again at them. ”Will you tell me only one little story, Mr. Englishman?”
”About what, you small bother?”
”About bears, big brown bears, not gentle trees.”
”There was once a sick bear,” said the young man, ”and he went all about the world, but could not get well until he found a quiet spot, where a gentle lady cured him.”
”And then--”
”The lady had a cub,” said Vesper, suddenly catching him in his arms and taking him out to the strip of sand, ”a fascinating cub that the bear--I mean the man--adored.”
Narcisse laughed gleefully, s.n.a.t.c.hed Vesper's cap and set off with it, fell into a pool of water and was rescued, and set to the task of taking off his shoes and stockings and drying them in the sun, while Vesper went back to Rose, who still sat like a person in acute distress of body and mind.
”I was sudden,--I startled you,” he murmured.
She made a dissenting gesture, but did not speak.
”Will you look at me, Rose?” he said, softly; ”just once.”
”But I am afraid,” fluttered from her pale lips. ”When I gaze into your eyes it is hard--”
He stood over her in such quiet, breathless sympathy that presently she looked up, thinking he was gone.
His glance caught and held hers. She got up, allowed him to take her hands and press them to his lips, and to place on her head the hat that had fallen to the ground.
”I will say nothing more now,” he murmured, ”you are shocked and upset.
We had better go home.”
”Come and be presented to Mrs. Nimmo,” suddenly said a saucy, laughing voice.
Rose started nervously. Her sister Perside had caught sight of them,--teasing, yet considerate Perside, since she had bestowed only one glance on the lovers, and had then gone sauntering past the mouth of the cave, out to the wide array of black rocks beyond them. She carried a hooked stick over her shoulder, and a tin pail in her hand, and sometimes she looked back at a second girl, similarly equipped, who was running down the gra.s.sy road after her.
Nothing could have made Rose more quickly recover herself. ”It is not the time of perigee,--you will find nothing,” she called after Perside; then she added to Vesper, in a low, shy voice, ”She seeks lobsters. She danced so much at the picnic that she was too tired to go home, and had to stay here with cousins.”
”Times and seasons do not matter for some things,” returned Perside, gaily, over her shoulder; ”one has the fun.”
Narcisse stopped digging his bare toes in the sand and shrieked, delightedly, ”Aunt Perside, aunt Perside, do you know the Englishman returns to my mother and me? He will never leave us, and I am not to go to my grandmother.” Then, fearful that his a.s.sertions had been too strong, he averted his gaze from the two approaching people, and fixed it on the blazing sun.
”Will you promise not to make a scene when I leave to-morrow?” said Vesper.
Narcisse blinked at him, his eyes full of spots and wheels and revolving lights. He was silly with joy, and gurgled deep down in his little throat. ”Let me kiss your hand, as you kissed my mother's. It is a pretty sight.”