Part 13 (1/2)
”Oh, was that it? Then I duly bow my acknowledgment. I took your words for one of those silly compliments by which men believe they honor women.”
He glanced curiously aside at her half-averted face. ”At first sight I had supposed you scarcely more than a mere girl, but now you speak like a woman wearied of the world, utterly condemning all complimentary phrases.”
”Indeed, no; not if they be sincerely expressed as between man and man.”
”How is it as between man and woman?”
”Men generally address women as you started to address me, as if there existed no common ground of serious thought between them. They condescend, they flatter, they indulge in fulsome compliment, they whisper soft nonsense which they would be sincerely ashamed to utter in the presence of their own s.e.x, they act as if they were amusing babies, rather than conversing with intelligent human beings. Their own notion seems to be to shake the rattle-box, and awaken a laugh. I am not a baby, nor am I seeking amus.e.m.e.nt.”
He glanced curiously at her book. ”And yet you condescend to read love stories,” he said, smiling. ”I expected to discover a treatise on philosophy.”
”I read whatever I chance to get my hands on, here in Glencaid,” she retorted, ”just as I converse with whoever comes along. I am hopeful of some day discovering a rare gem hidden in the midst of the trash. I am yet young.”
”You are indeed young,” he said, quietly, ”and with some of life's lessons still to learn. One is that frankness is not necessarily flippancy, nor honesty harshness. Beyond doubt much of what you said regarding ordinary social conversation is true, yet the man is no more to be blamed than the woman. Both seek to be entertaining, and are to be praised for the effort rather than censured. A stranger cannot instinctively know the likes and dislikes of one he has just met; he can feel his way only by commonplaces. However, if you will offer me a topic worthy the occasion, in either philosophy, science, or literature, I will endeavor to feed your mind.”
She uplifted her innocent eyes demurely to his face. ”You are so kind.
I am deeply interested just now In the j.a.panese conception of the transmigration of souls.”
”How extremely fortunate! It chances to be my favorite theme, but my mental processes are peculiar, and you must permit me to work up toward it somewhat gradually. For instance, as a question leading that way, how, in the incarnation of this world, do you manage to exist in such a hole of a place?--that is, provided you really reside here.”
”Why, I consider this a most delightful nook.”
”My reference was to Glencaid.”
”Oh! Why, I live from within, not without. Mind and heart, not environment, make life, and my time is occupied most congenially. I am being faithfully nurtured on the Presbyterian catechism, and also trained in the graces of earthly society. These alternate, thus preparing me for whatever may happen in this world or the next.”
His face pictured bewilderment, but also a determination to persevere.
”An interesting combination, I admit. But from your appearance this cannot always have been your home?”
”Oh, thank you. I believe not always; but I wonder at your being able to discern my superiority to these surroundings. And do you know your questioning is becoming quite personal? Does that yield me an equal privilege?”
He bowed, perhaps relieved at thus permitting her to a.s.sume the initiative, and rested lazily back upon the gra.s.s, his eyes intently studying her face.
”I suppose from your clothes you must be a soldier. What is that figure 7 on your hat for?”
”The number of my regiment, the Seventh Cavalry.”
Her glance was a bit disdainful as she coolly surveyed him from head to foot, ”I should imagine that a strong, capable-appearing fellow like you might do much better than that. There is so much work in the world worth doing, and so much better pay.”
”What do you mean? Is n't a soldier's life a worthy one?”
”Oh, yes, of course, in a way. We have to have soldiers, I suppose; but if I were a man I 'd hate to waste all my life tramping around at sixteen dollars a month.”
He smothered what sounded like a rough e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, gazing into her demure eyes as if she strongly suspected a joke hid in their depths.
”Do--do you mistake me for an enlisted man?”
”Oh, I did n't know; you said you were a soldier, and that's what I always heard they got. I am so glad if they give you more. I was only going to say that I believed I could get you a good place in McCarthy's store if you wanted it. He pays sixty-five dollars, and his clerk has just left.”