Part 57 (2/2)
”He did so,--yes, sir,--for the first time ever.”
”Then he is honestly in love with you?”
”But you, also, did the like to me. Is it a consequence of honest love, Mr. Drogue, when a young man embraces a maiden's lips?”
Her questions had so disconcerted me that I found now no answer to this one.
”I know nothing about love,” said I, looking out at the sunlit waters.
”Nor I,” said she.
”You seem willing to be schooled,” I retorted.
”Not willing, not unwilling. I do not understand men, but am not averse to learning something of their ways. No two seem similar, Mr. Drogue, save in the one matter.”
”Which?” I asked bluntly.
”The matter of paying court. All seem to do it naturally, though some take fire quicker, and some seem to burn more ardently than others.”
”It pleasures you to be courted? Gallantries suit you? And the flowery phrases suitors use?”
”They pleasurably perplex me. Time pa.s.ses more agreeably when one is knitting. To be courted is not an unwelcome diversion to any woman, I think. And flowery phrases are pleasant to notice,--like music suitably played, and of which one is conscious though occupied with other matters.”
”If this be not coquetry,” I thought, ”then it is most perilously akin to it.”
Obscurely yet deeply disturbed by the blind stirring of emotions I could not clearly a.n.a.lyze, I sat brooding there. Now I watched her fingers playing with the steels, and her young face lowered; now I gazed afar across the blue Vlaie Water to the bluer mountains beyond, which dented the horizon as the great blue waves of Lake Ontario make molten mountains against an azure sky.
So still was the world that the distant leap and splash of a great silver pike sounded like a gun-shot in that breathless, sun-drenched solitude.
Yet I found no solace now in all this golden peace; for, of the silence between this maid and me, had been born a vague and malicious thing; and like a subtle demon it had come, now, into my body to turn me sullen and restless with the scarce-formed, scarce-comprehended thoughts it hatched within me. And one of these had to do with Stevie Watts, and how he had come here for the sake of this girl.... And had taken her into his arms under the stars, near the lilacs.... And my lips still warm from hers.... Yet she had gone to him in the dusk.... Was afeard for him....
Pitied him.... And doubtless loved him, whatever she might choose to say to me.... Under any circ.u.mstances a coquette; and, innocent or wise, to the manner born at any rate.... And some Tryon County gallant likely to take her measure some day ere she awake from her soft bewilderment at the ways and conducting of mankind.
Nick came at eventide, carrying a pike by the gills, and showed us his fingers bleeding of the watery conflict.
”Is all calm on the Sacandaga?” I enquired.
”Calm as a roadside puddle, Jack. And every day I ask myself if there be truly any war in North America or no, so placid s.h.i.+nes G.o.d's sun on Tryon.... You mend apace, old friend. Do you suffer fatigue?”
”None, Nick. I shall sit at table tonight with Mistress Grant and you----”
My voice ceased, and, without warning, the demon that had entered into me began a-whispering. Then the first ign.o.ble and senseless pang of jealousy a.s.sailed me to remember that this girl and my comrade had been alone for weeks together--supped all alone at table--companioned each the other while I lay ill!----
Senseless, miserable clod that I was to listen to that demon's whispering till my very belly seemed sick-sore with the pain of it and my heart hurt me under the ribs.
Now she rose and looked at Nick and laughed; and they said a word or two I could not quite hear, but she laughed again as though with some familiar understanding, and went lightly away to her evening milking.
”We shall be content indeed,” said Nick, ”that you sit at supper with us, old friend.”
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