CHAPTER II.A SLIGHT ACCIDENT.
When it is summer-time, and you are engaged to the most perfect man in the world, and you are at a lovely seaside cottage with him, and are boating, and playing tennis, and trying to play golf, and cycling, and it is a little too early for any of all those people who are going to visit you really to arrive,—when such conditions prevail, you don't expect time to drag.
And time did not drag with Carolyn Ffolliott,—it flew.
A week had gone when one day at breakfast Mrs. Ffolliott remarked that she had almost a good mind to worry.
Her daughter looked at her questioningly, and Leander, with his mouth full, said that "Marmer'd rather give a dollar any time than miss a worry."
But marmer took no notice of her son; she continued to gaze at Carolyn, with her brows wrinkled.
"Prudence, you know," she went on. "She said she might come any minute."
"I suppose she changed her mind."
"Perhaps. But I've been dreaming about her; I thought she was drowned, and when I told you, Caro, you laughed, and said it was a good thing. I was so shocked I—but, good heavens! Caro, what makes you look like that?"
"Like what?"
"Why, just as you did in my dream,—that same light in your eyes—"
"Mamma!" broke in the girl, angrily. But she did not say anything more.
At that moment a servant came into the room with a salver in her hand, and on the salver lay a yellow telegraph envelope.
Carolyn half rose from the table, then she sat down, for she saw the servant was coming to her.
To these people a telegram was little different from an ordinary note. Everybody telegraphed about everything. Notwithstanding this, the girl could not keep her hand quite steady as she tore open the cover.
Her mother watched her face; she was still thinking of her dream.
Immediately Carolyn began to smile. She read aloud:
"Please send your wheel over to station for 11.40 train."Prudence Ffolliott."
The elder woman stirred her coffee desperately. "She isn't drowned, then," she said.
"Apparently not, since she wants my wheel."
"Shall you send it?"
"Yes."
"Sha'n't you drive over to meet her?"
"No."
"Well," said the elder lady, forcibly, "I call it ridiculous, coming home from Europe on a bicycle! I don't see when she learned, either. I thought she had been giving her mother mud baths, and all that sort of thing, and being devoted and—and what not."
"As for that," responded Carolyn, "I don't know but Prue would be able to learn to ride a wheel in a mud bath itself."
"Bully for Prue!" cried Leander.
"My son!" said his mother, at which he grinned, but kindly refrained from repeating the remark.
Carolyn had risen from the table. She held the message crumpled in her hand.
"Sha'n't you meet her anyway?"
"How can I if I send my wheel?—but I have an idea that she doesn't care. I don't precisely know what she does mean, so I shall wait."
"I sha'n't wait," suddenly announced Leander. "I shall spin down there myself."
"And when is Rodney coming back, did you say?"
"Not until to-morrow."
Mrs. Ffolliott indulged in some remarks on the ways of young people at the present time, to which no reply was made.
So it happened that when the eleven-forty train steamed up to the little station, there were on the platform but two people, the agent and a small boy in a suit so close and abbreviated as to be almost no suit at all.
This boy was standing by his own wheel, and another bicycle leaned against the wall of the building.
Leander was scowling along the steps of every car, and saying to himself:
"I'll bet she hasn't come. Women never do anything right. I wanted to race her home."
Three men and a small girl had alighted. It was no use looking any more. There, the train was moving.
"Oh, thunder!" said the boy.
He was turning away, when something touched his shoulder, and somebody asked:
"Leander, why are you saying 'thunder?'"
He flung about quickly. He snatched off his atom of a cap and looked up at the tall girl beside him.
"Now, that's O. K.," he said, "and I'll race you home. How de do? You do look grand, though. And you can't ride a bike inthatsuit,—no more'n a bose."
"Can't I? We'll see. Let us kiss each other, Leander."
"All right. I ain't no objections."
The two kissed. Then Leander put on his cap.
Prudence Ffolliott was dressed with extreme plainness in a perfectly fitting suit of brown with a white hat, and she had on gloves like those which a few girls can find, and which most girls pass all their lives trying to find. And yet it might seem an easy matter to get rather loose brown gloves like these. She had a small leather bag in one hand.
She glanced up and down the platform. The train had sped away. The long waste of track lay desolate beneath the brilliant sun. The woods came up close on the other side of the rails. On this sidea country road wound up a slight acclivity. There was one "open wagon," drawn by a sorrel horse, slowly ascending this hill. In the wagon sat three men very much crowded on the one seat. In the still air was a low, continuous sound.
Prudence listened; she sniffed the air.
"I hear the waves," she said. "The tide is coming in; and the wind is east."
"Yes," said Leander, "I should have gone perchin' if I hadn't come down here. And I might as well have gone, for you can't ride. Just look at all the pleats and pipes 'n' things on your skirt! It's too bad! And sis sent her bike down. You wired for it, you know."
"Yes," said the girl, "I know I wired for it. Wait for the transformation scene. How is Caro?"
"She's well enough," said the boy, shortly.
"And Aunt Letitia?"
"Well's ever."
"Any company yet?"
"Only Rodney."
It was an instant before the girl asked:
"Is Mr. Lawrence there?"
"Yep. 'N' he 'n' sis are such spoons that they ain't either of 'em any fun."
"Spoons, are they?" Prudence laughed slightly.
"Yep. 'N' I found Rod's ring, and marmer 'n' sis raised a most awful row 'bout my takin' the reward. They said it wasn't gentlemanly of me, bein' a friend and relation, to take it. Still they did let Rod give me two ten spots. But I didn't get marmer any present out of that, you bet!"
"What ring was it?"
While Prudence was talking she opened her bag and selected from its contents a leather strap.
Leander was so absorbed in watching her, and in wondering what she would do, that he did not hear her question.
He already began to have faith that she would be equal to any emergency,—that is, as nearly equal as anything feminine could be.
"What ring did you find?" she repeated.
As she spoke, she took a pair of white gloves from the bag, and extended them to the boy.
"Please hold them," she said. His little brown fingers closed over the gloves.
"Why," he answered, "that red stone, you know, with the head cut into it."
"Oh!"
She made no other remark for some time. The boy continued to watch her. He rather admired the deft way in which her hands removed somethingwhich made her belt slip from its place, and the next moment her skirt, which he had derided, dropped down to the floor of the platform, her jacket was flung off, and there Miss Ffolliott stood in a full bicycle suit of white flannel. It was then that Leander noticed that her shoes and hat were white, as he said, "to begin with."
He jumped up and down. "Hurray!" he cried, in his thin, sharp voice. "I guess you c'n do it."
"I guess I can," she answered. "Now I want to strap up this skirt, and we'll take it and the bag along. Are you good on a bike?" She turned and looked at her companion with a laugh in her eyes. She had just now so lithe and active an appearance that the boy wanted to clap his hands. She took the white gloves from him, and began to put them on.
"Good on a bike?" he repeated. "Well, you just wait. Are you good on one yourself? I ought to be; marmer says she's expectin' every minute to see me brought in with all my bones smashed. But I don't take headers nigh so often's I used to. Ready?"
Leander gallantly brought forward his sister's wheel, and held it. Within the station the agent was peering out from his window at the girl in white.He was shocked, but he was extremely interested, and he did not wink in his gaze until the boy and woman had wheeled out of sight along the lonely country road.
Leander immediately found that his small legs were called upon to do their utmost, but he kept on bravely. And he would not pant; he assumed an easy appearance. He even tried to whistle, but he had to give that up.
He glanced covertly at his companion. She sat up straight, and her figure showed very little movement.
Presently she asked, "Why didn't Caro come to meet me?"
"She kinder thought you didn't care to have her, as you sent for her wheel."
No answer. Then, "Perhaps she's gone somewhere with Mr. Lawrence."
"No, she ain't, either. Rodney's off just now—comin' back to-morrow. I say!"
"Well?"
"Slow up a bit. I can't stand this. I give in. I guess my legs ain't long enough. You're stunnin' on a bike. Caro's rather good, but—Hullo! what's that ahead, anyway? Let's put in 'n' get to it."
So they put in. In another moment they saw that the something was a man; then that he was lyingflat on his face; then that it was Rodney Lawrence. It was the girl who discovered who it was. Instead of shrinking back a little, as Leander had done in spite of himself, when they found that it was a man lying there, Prudence forced her wheel up to the prostrate body, jumped off, and looked down at him. She stood perfectly still for an instant. Then she turned towards Leander.
"It's Rodney," she said, in a low voice.
"I don't believe it!" cried the boy.
He felt that it was impossible for Rodney to be hurt so that he would lie as stiff and dreadful as that. Some other man might be hurt thus, but not Rodney. With this rebellious disbelief in his fast-beating heart, Leander dismounted; he stood a little behind Prudence, and peered round her at the object on the ground.
"It is Rodney," repeated the girl.
Her face was quite white, and her eyelids, as she looked down, fluttered as if they would close over her eyes and thus shut out the sight of the senseless man. But she was calm enough as she turned to the boy.
She did not immediately speak. She glanced around the place. There was a wood on each side of the road. They might be there half a day, she knew,and no one would come along. It was not the main road, which itself was not much travelled.
She seemed to give up her intention of speaking. She pulled off a glove and knelt down in the gravel. She put out one hand, and gently turned the head so that the face was a little more visible. She shuddered as she did so. The vertical sun struck on a diamond on her hand, and made it send out sharp rays of light.
With a swift motion the girl turned the stone inward. Then she shuddered again. She rose.
"I'll go on to the first house," she said, "and get help."
"No, I'll go," exclaimed Leander, quickly, and in an unsteady voice.
"I can go in much less time than you could do the distance. You don't know how fast I can ride. It's almost three miles to the next house. Are you afraid to stay here and wait?"
The boy trembled and hesitated. Then he was ashamed to say he was afraid.
"I'll wait here," he said, huskily.
Prudence sprang on her wheel and started off. Leander watched her. For an instant he forgot everything else in admiration as he saw her whiz out of sight.
"By George!" he said to himself.
Then he looked back at that still figure. He braced himself up. He remembered that he was a boy instead of a girl.
He sat down on a stone by the wayside. He leaned his chin on his hands and stared at Rodney. Was that Rodney? If the man were dead, why, then it was not anybody; it was—oh, what was it?
And how could Rodney, so full of life and health and strength, be there so helpless?
A great many strange and solemn thoughts came to the boy's mind as he sat there.
And all the time he was listening for wheels, hoping that a carriage would come along.
The mosquitoes buzzed about his face and stung him unheeded.
He noticed that Rodney wore corduroys and leather leggings, and that a whip lay on the ground a few yards off. Leander went and picked up the whip, which he knew very well.
But how strange even the whip seemed! So Rodney had been riding; and he had come home sooner than he had been expected.
If he should be really dead, Leander supposed that his sister would mourn herself to death. He supposedhis sister was in love with this long, still figure of a man.
All at once the little watcher felt the tears springing up and blinding him. He rubbed his fists into his eyes, but the tears would come. It was while he was doing this that he thought he heard a sound; as he could not distinguish what the sound was, he dared not take his hands from his face, and he dared not move.
Was it really a groan?
His curiosity overcame his terror. He looked at the man in the road. Lawrence had raised himself on his elbow, but he immediately sank back again.
Leander ran to him.
Lawrence gazed in a blind sort of way at the boy. Then he half smiled, and said, feebly, "I suppose you're dead too, Lee, and we're both in heaven."
"I ain't dead, for one," answered the boy. And then he sobbed outright in the intensity of his relief.
"Then perhaps I'm not."
A long silence, during which Lawrence stared rather stupidly at nothing, and Leander stared at him.
After a little the boy bethought himself to ask if he couldn't help.
"I don't know. I thought I'd wait until my mind cleared more."
He raised his head again.
"What's that?" he asked.
He was looking at a white glove that lay near him on the ground.
He dropped his head and slowly reached forth his hand till he grasped the glove.
"It's hers," was the answer.
"Hers? Caro's?" he asked, eagerly.
But as he spoke the faint odor of iris came to him from the bit of leather in his grasp. He knew that odor of iris; it had always been inseparable from anything belonging to Prudence Ffolliott.
"No," replied Leander; "it's Prue's."
Lawrence lay silent. His face was dull and clouded.
"Oh, I do wish I could do something!" exclaimed Leander. "She's gone on for help."
"Who's gone on?"
"Why, Prue, of course."
Lawrence lifted himself up on his elbow again.
"I had a nasty fall," he said. "I thought I was done for. Where's my horse?"
"I ain't seen any horse."
"It was one I was trying. Luckily, he'll go home to his own stable, and the stablemen won't break their hearts with anxiety."
The young man spoke quite like himself; and his face began to gain in color. He pressed his hand to his head. He laughed a little. "I must have a thick skull of my own," he said.
He turned and twisted, and then he rose to a sitting posture.
The glove had dropped to the ground. He looked down at it, made a slight motion as if he would take it, then turned away.
"I'm sorry I've made such a scene as this," he said. "It's unlucky that you should have happened along here now. You see I should have come to myself all right, and nobody been frightened. Give me a hand, Lee. There! The deuce! I can't do it, though!"
Lawrence sank back on the ground, and again lay quiet.
Leander could prevent himself from wringing his hands only by remembering that he was a boy. He recalled how in all the stories of adventure he had read the right person always had a bottle of whisky or brandy to produce at the right moment. But hehad nothing. He hadn't even a string in his pocket. He "went in" for the lightest possible weight when on his wheel.
Thank fortune, there was Prue coming back. She had made good time, even to his anxious mind.
The girl's wheel glided up, and she alighted from it as swiftly as a bird would have done.
CHAPTER III."I WANT TO ASK YOU A QUESTION."
She bent down over Lawrence, who opened his eyes and looked at her.
"Oh!" she said, in a whisper. The thought which sprang swiftly into her mind was the thought of the last time she had seen this man. It was the time when she had told him that she had changed her mind about marrying him, and had decided to marry Lord Maxwell. But later, Lord Maxwell, for financial reasons and under parental influence, had also changed his mind, and had married somebody else. This was in Prudence's thought as she said, "Oh!" in a whisper.
"You see I'm not dead," remarked Lawrence, "only devilishly unlucky."
Prudence stood up erect.
"It quite relieves me to hear you say devilishly," she responded; "cheers my heart, indeed."
"But why?"
"Because men who are mortally hurt are morepious; if they wanted to say a bad word they would not do it. Thank you."
Lawrence smiled.
"I could cheer your heart still more," he answered, "for there are a lot of bad words just galloping to be said."
Prudence did not reply. She turned to Leander, and asked if Mr. Lawrence had been conversing like this, and had he been shamming when they had first found him.
At this Lawrence groaned. After a few moments the boy and woman assisted him to rise. He leaned heavily on them, but seemed to improve somewhat.
"I don't think you've done much more than break a few ribs and a collar-bone or so," said the girl, cheerfully.
"And p'raps concussed your brain a bit," added Leander, whose spirits were rising rapidly.
"There comes the cart," announced Prudence. "It hasn't any springs, but I didn't know but you were past minding springs. I did insist on a mattress being put in; only it isn't a mattress, but a feather bed."
Lawrence groaned again.
"That's right," she said; "don't suffer in silence."
It was not long now before the two men who came in the cart had assisted Lawrence into it. At first he refused to sit down on the feather bed. He caught a glimpse of Prudence's laughing face as she said, "If you don't, I shall think you're ungrateful for all we've done for you."
On this the young man sank down on the bed. "I've only been stunned," he said, morosely, "and you needn't make any more fuss about it."
"All right; have it your own way; but I insist on the ribs and the collar-bones. Now I'll go on and prepare the minds of your friends."
Before anything more could be said, Miss Ffolliott pedalled away.
Leander lifted his machine into the cart, and then placed himself between it and the feather bed. The horse started on his walk to Savin Hill.
As he started, Lawrence raised his head and looked back to the spot of ground where he had fallen. He saw something white lying there, and he knew that it was Miss Ffolliott's glove.
Miss Ffolliott herself rode swiftly along the shady, solitary road. She knew the way very well. She had ridden and driven here many times with the man who was lying there in the farm cart. He had been in love with her,—extravagantly, furiously, delightfully.She smiled as she remembered. Some men could make love so much more agreeably than others. She supposed that was a matter of temperament.
And he wasn't hurt very much, after all. And he and Caro were "spoons" now. She smiled more broadly.
"I always suspected that Caro cared," she thought, "and I was right. How funny it is! Well, I shall know precisely the state of the case in three seconds after I've seen them together. And I've come now."
She seemed to slide without propulsion along the road. She whistled two or three bars of a tune she had often whistled while she had sat beside her mother when the latter lady had been up to her neck in ground peat and sprudel water.
Sometimes the girl flung back her head and sniffed the air, much as a young colt sniffs when it has just been let out into a field after a long confinement.
But she did not relax her speed. It was not long before she turned into a better kept road, and here she saw ahead of her, and walking towards her, the figure of her cousin Carolyn, who began to hasten directly.
They fell on each other's necks, after the manner of girls, and kissed and hugged.
Then Prudence held her off, and examined her, smiling slightly all the while.
"Lee told me you were no good any more," she said, at last.
Then Caro blushed and blushed.
"I suppose you're happy?"
"Yes."
"Of course. Well, I've been to the mud baths of Carlsbad, and I'm not particularly happy. However, I congratulate you; and I won't bede tropany more than is absolutely necessary for the sake of appearances."
Prudence propelled her wheel with one hand; the other arm she put about her companion's waist, and so the two went out.
"Mr. Lawrence has returned," presently said Prudence.
"How do you know?" the other asked, quickly.
"Because we met him, Leander and I, on the Pine-wood road. Now if you scream I won't tell you anything more; and it really isn't anything to speak of, only he is on his way here now, and on a feather bed also, because they didn't have any mattresses. If it isn't ribs it's collar-bone,—what was it the Physiology used to call collar-bone?—and he's sane, and knew me, and wanted to swear, but wouldn't,much. So you see you needn't be alarmed a particle."
Carolyn had detached herself from her companion, and was gazing at her, her lips growing white, as she listened.
"His horse threw him," added Prudence, shortly.
"Threw him?"
"Yes," with still more impatience. "What else do you want me to say. Didn't I tell you he was on his way home, and that it was a feather bed only because I couldn't get a mattress? I did as well as I could."
Here Prudence gave a short laugh, and lightly kissed her companion's cheek.
Carolyn tried to appear calm. Her imagination had leaped to every dreadful thing. She wanted to turn her back on this girl, but, instead of doing that, she looked at her intently, and asked, steadily:
"Are you telling me the truth?"
"Absolutely. I don't think your precious young man is hurt much, only shaken up a bit."
The two girls were silent for a few moments. Carolyn had turned, and they were both walking back over the road, that they might the sooner meet the cart that was bringing Lawrence to Savin Hill.
"Providence made a great mistake in sending meto find your lover," at last said Prudence. "If Providence had wished to do the perfectly correct thing, you would have been on the Pine-wood road this morning. But then, when does Providence act quite up to the mark? I am tired of Providence myself."
Though Carolyn gazed at the speaker, she did not apparently hear her. Her eyes wandered off down the road.
After another short silence, Prudence spoke again.
"I hope there are people coming to the house this summer. I should go raving mad if I had only you and Rodney, and you two in love with each other."
The girl shrugged her shoulders, and shuddered. As there was no answer, she repeated:
"I suppose you are in love with each other, aren't you?"
"I suppose so," mechanically.
"That's what I thought. Are there people coming?"
"Oh, yes."
"Men?"
"A few."
"Ah, I revive! If you had had as much to do with sprudel water as I have, you would be as thankfulas I am at the prospect of seeing some men who are not slyly feeling their pulse while they talk to you. You needn't look so curiously at me. It is strictly proper for a girl to like men, only it's very improper to acknowledge the liking. And when they begin to get in love—Oh, isn't that the head of the procession appearing? Yes. Now, Caro, run and throw yourself on your betrothed, and sing in a high soprano how thankful you are to see him yet again—again—a-g-a—in! You see, I've not forgotten my opera."
But Carolyn did not run. She walked slowly forward, her hands very cold, hanging inertly down, her lips pressed tightly together.
Of one thing she was sure,—that she would not make a scene. Yes, she would die rather than make a scene.
There was the bed, and there was Lawrence lounging upon it. Leander was standing rigidly straight, grasping the stakes of the cart. He shouted shrilly as he saw his sister. The old horse, which always stopped on any pretext whatever, stopped now, and drooped, as if he would lie down.
"I say, sis," said Leander, jumping from the tail of the cart, "don't you go and begin to cry, and all that stuff."
"I don't think your sister will cry, Leander," remarked Lawrence, with some dryness.
Carolyn came to the side of the cart. She said that she hoped Mr. Lawrence was not much hurt, and Mr. Lawrence replied that he should be all right in a few hours.
Then the horse was induced to start on. After a while they all reached the house, and Lawrence was helped to his room, while Leander volunteered to go on his wheel for the doctor.
In due time the doctor came, and pronounced that the young man would be as well as usual again in a few days.
The two girls were standing on the piazza, when this decision was announced to them by Mrs. Ffolliott.
Carolyn walked quickly to the nearest chair, and sat down. She fixed her eyes on that line of dazzling brightness which was the sea. But she saw nothing. Prudence sauntered to the railing, and leaned against it.
Presently Mrs. Ffolliott returned to the house, and the two were alone.
Prudence walked to a long chair near her cousin, and placed herself luxuriously in it. She still wore her bicycle suit. She crossed her legs, and, leaningforward, embraced her knees with her clasped hands.
"Got a smoke about you, Caro?" she asked.
"No. And I didn't know you had taken up smoking."
"No more I have. But my attitude, and the piazza, and a certain natural depravity in my own breast suggested the question. I think I shall try cigarettes. And one can have a truly divine thing in cigarette-cases now. And a woman's hand is peculiarly fitted to show jewels when holding a weed out—thus."
The speaker extended her left hand, while she seemed to puff smoke from her lips as she did so.
Carolyn smiled slightly, as she said:
"You are just the same, aren't you?"
"Of course. You didn't think I had met with a change, did you?"
"Hardly."
Carolyn clasped her hands, and gazed down at them. A cloud was on her face.
"You are not worrying about that great strapping fellow up-stairs, are you?" Prudence asked the question sharply.
"No."
"You didn't seem to feel much when you met him just now," remarked Prudence.
"I didn't want to make a scene," was the reply.
Prudence contemplated her companion for a moment in silence. Then she said that she had a bit of advice to offer; advice was easily given, and it never hurt any one, because no one ever followed it.
"What is it?"
"Don't be quite so self-controlled, or Rodney will begin to think you seem indifferent because you feel so. You know men are creatures who have no intuition, and who can't see the fraction of an inch below the surface. And though they say they don't like scenes, they do, when it's love for them that makes the scene. I don't charge you a cent for this information. I do wish I had a cigarette; I'd try it this very minute.
"''Twas off the blue Canary IsleI smoked my last cigar!'"
"''Twas off the blue Canary IsleI smoked my last cigar!'"
"''Twas off the blue Canary IsleI smoked my last cigar!'"
"''Twas off the blue Canary Isle
I smoked my last cigar!'"
Prudence sang in a deep bass that threatened to choke her. She grew red in the face, and did not try to go on any further with the song.
Carolyn glanced at her and laughed.
"Somehow," she said, "I believe I thought Carlsbad would make you over."
"You see I think I might have been made over ifI had taken mud baths myself," was the reply; "but only seeing mamma take them didn't seem to have much effect,—only to bore me almost to death. Did you ever notice that, after you have been bored to extinction, and have escaped, you are liable to commit very nearly anything? You are so exhilarated, you know. Now I'm going to do something startling. I don't know yet whether I shall steal the Ffolliott silver, or—" here the girl paused to laugh—"or Carolyn Ffolliott's lover. For the first I might be put in jail; for the latter there's no punishment that I know."
Prudence leaned back now and clasped her hands over the top of her head.
"I do wish you wouldn't talk so!" Carolyn exclaimed.
"Why? It's fun to take out the stopper and let yourself bubble over."
"Prudence—"
"Ma'am?"
"I want to ask you something."
"Go right ahead. Questions cheerfully answered; estimates given upon application."
But Carolyn hesitated. Then she said that she wished her cousin would be serious.
"Serious! You don't call me gay, do you? Why,the solemnity that dribbled over me from mamma isn't washed off yet. It will take a whole summer, and several men in love with me at once, and fighting about me, to take away the melancholy that I acquired at Carlsbad."
As she finished speaking, Prudence rose, and stepped out on to the lawn. She ran across it and leaned on the wall at the end of it. Beyond lay the bay, flashing brightly in the sunlight; but her strong eyes did not blench as she gazed.
"Is that theVireoin the sandy cove?" she asked.
"Yes."
"It's a little thing, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"I believe I could almost manage that myself."
"Yes."
Prudence turned towards her cousin, flung her head back, and laughed. A young man lying impatiently on a bed in a room on the second floor heard that laugh, and tossed his head on the pillow as he heard.
He inwardly compared the sound with Carolyn's musical gurgle when she was amused, and then said aloud that it was amazing that he had ever fancied that he had cared for Prudence Ffolliott. She mustbe out there by the wall. He raised himself on his elbow, but, though he could look through the window, he could see only the ocean and the sails on it, and the long trails of smoke from two steamers that were gliding away towards "the utmost purple rim."
That phrase came into his mind, and with it the memory of one evening, down on the beach, when Prudence had quoted that verse, and how her voice had sunk and thrilled as it pronounced the words and she had glanced up at him.
What an ass he had been! Well, he was thankful that was all over. It was incredible that he had been moved so by that woman. He was beyond all that now; and he was in love with the dearest girl in the world.
Prudence laughed again, and again Lawrence raised himself on his elbow, and once more saw nothing but the ocean and the sails. Then he turned with his back to the window, groaned by reason of his hurts, muttered something that sounded like "Damn it," and in a few moments fell asleep.
Prudence still remained by the wall, her arms upon it and her brilliant face towards the sea. And Carolyn still sat in her chair on the veranda. She was not looking at Massachusetts Bay, but at her cousin. She was wondering about her with an intensitythat was almost painful. Among other things, she was trying to determine what it was in Prudence Ffolliott's face that made it interesting, and that gave it something very much more effective than beauty of feature. It was a mocking, flashing, melting, fiery, tender face; a face full of daring, of possibilities, and suggestions, and shadows, and brightnesses; and it was unscrupulous, and passionate, and cruel, and selfish, and—
Having thought of all these adjectives, Carolyn roused herself and smiled at her own folly, and told herself it was an impossible thing that any human countenance should be so contradictory. She recalled the story her own mirror told her. As for beauty, she possessed a share of that.
This thought strengthened and comforted her. She left her chair and joined her cousin by the wall. Prudence put her arm about Carolyn, and the two stood in silence a few moments. The water before them was vivid, shining green and blue and purple; and it was just ruffled by a gentle east wind that made the whole world seem a bright, joyous place to live in.
"How many times I've thought of just this place on the Savin Hill lawn, and just this outlook over the bay!"
Prudence spoke very gently, and sighed slightly as she spoke.
"Have you?"
"Indeed I have. What did you imagine I thought of in that dreadful hotel with mamma and the maid and the nurse and the peat and the water? I had to think of something. And I wondered if I should ever sail in theVireo. And now I mean to sail in her the very first minute I can manage it. I got me the loveliest sailor hat in Paris, and a ribbon with 'Vireo' on it, and a yachting suit that looks as if it were made in Paradise. Yes, I sail theVireothe salt seas over."
"I didn't know you went to Paris."
"I did. I wanted some clothing fit for mamma's daughter and your cousin to wear. And I've got it. You just wait and see. That's why I was a little late in coming across. Oh, how divine that color is beyond Long Ledge! Life is worth the living, isn't it, Caro dear? Yes, it is certainly a blessed thing to be alive. This world is a beautiful place. Yes, I must go out in theVireothis very day, even if the wind isn't right for much of a sail."
Prudence leaned her head lightly on her companion's shoulder while she recited in a half-voice and with exquisite penetrating intonation:
"The day, so mild,Is Heaven's own child,With earth and ocean reconciled.The airs I feelAround me stealAre murmuring to the murmuring keel."Over the railMy hand I trailWithin the shadow of the sail;A joy intense,The cooling senseGlides down my drowsy indolence."With dreamful eyesMy spirit liesWhere Summer sings and never dies.O'erveiled with vines,She glows and shinesAmong her future oil and wines."
"The day, so mild,Is Heaven's own child,With earth and ocean reconciled.The airs I feelAround me stealAre murmuring to the murmuring keel."Over the railMy hand I trailWithin the shadow of the sail;A joy intense,The cooling senseGlides down my drowsy indolence."With dreamful eyesMy spirit liesWhere Summer sings and never dies.O'erveiled with vines,She glows and shinesAmong her future oil and wines."
"The day, so mild,Is Heaven's own child,With earth and ocean reconciled.The airs I feelAround me stealAre murmuring to the murmuring keel.
"The day, so mild,
Is Heaven's own child,
With earth and ocean reconciled.
The airs I feel
Around me steal
Are murmuring to the murmuring keel.
"Over the railMy hand I trailWithin the shadow of the sail;A joy intense,The cooling senseGlides down my drowsy indolence.
"Over the rail
My hand I trail
Within the shadow of the sail;
A joy intense,
The cooling sense
Glides down my drowsy indolence.
"With dreamful eyes
My spirit lies
Where Summer sings and never dies.
O'erveiled with vines,
She glows and shines
Among her future oil and wines."
As she finished the lines Prudence lifted her head and smiled at her companion.
That smile somehow made Carolyn's heart sick, it was so softly brilliant. She had a wild notion, for the instant, that a woman who could smile like that, and whose eyes melted like that, was a woman to fly from across the whole world.
"Prudence—" began Carolyn, as she had once before begun.
This time Prudence did not say, "Ma'am." She responded, "Yes," in a half whisper.
Carolyn stood up a little more erectly; she felt her hands growing cold. She went on:
"I've often wondered how you happened to engage yourself to Rodney Lawrence."
"I shouldn't think you'd wonder about that, when you've just been and done the same thing yourself," was the response.
"Now don't be flippant."
"No, I won't be. Go on."
"Well," Carolyn began again, "perhaps I ought to say that I wonder how, having engaged yourself to Rodney, you could jilt him for anybody else in the world."
"Not for Lord Maxwell?"
"Not for a thousand Lord Maxwells."
"One is quite enough, thank you. Well, if I did wrong, I was speedily punished. I jilted Mr. Lawrence for his lordship; his lordship jilted me for the brewer's daughter. I notice that brewers' daughters over in England get much more than their share of the male nobility."
"You said you wouldn't be flippant."
"So I did. Have you any more remarks to make?"
"Yes. I remark that I thought you were in love with Rodney."
There was now a short silence. Prudence was standing with her hands clasped among the vines on top of the wall in front of her.
"Did I seem so?" she asked.
"Yes."
Prudence turned still farther away as she answered:
"I was in love with him."
"Oh, Prudence, you are certainly unaccountable!" burst out Carolyn.
"That's just what I think myself."
As she spoke, the girl turned back towards her companion and laughed.
"Oh, yes, I was certainly in love with him. The sun rose and set in his eyes for me; I thought of him by day and dreamed of him by night; when he looked at me I felt my heart give one delightful throb and then go on as if it were beating to delicious music. He was never absent from me really; he—"
"That's quite enough," interrupted Carolyn, harshly; and she added, after a moment:
"I don't believe one word you have said."
"Why not?" Prudence lifted her eyebrows.
"Because if you had loved him like that you would not have thought of any one else."
"Pshaw! While the fever was on, you mean."
"Prudence, why won't you be serious?"
"Because you are serious enough for two,—yes, for a dozen."
Carolyn's face had been gradually growing white. She now walked away, following the wall and staring out towards the ocean.
Prudence leaned forward on the wall, her arms extended over the thick green of the creeper that covered the stones. There was some new light in her eyes, but it was not easy to tell what that light meant.
When Carolyn returned she met her gaze with frankness, and said:
"Caro, what is it you want to say to me? You haven't said it yet."
"No, I haven't. I'm trying to ask you a question."
"Go on."
But the other girl still seemed to find extreme difficulty in saying what was in her mind. Finally she asked:
"Are you going to try to win Rodney back to you?"
There was something deeply piteous in Carolyn's lovely face as she spoke; a pain, a hope and doubt which made the tears rise to the eyes of her companion.
"You dear little thing!" cried Prudence. "How ridiculous you are! I couldn't do it if I tried."
"Oh, I don't know," was the response. "I wish you hadn't come now. Mamma dreamed that you were drowned, and that I was glad of it. That was horrible. It frightened me. I remember how Rodney felt about you. It's useless to pretend that I don't remember, or that he is in love with me in that kind of a way. You'd find out all about it, and I may just as well tell you. I've loved him ever since I can remember; I suffered when you and he were engaged; but I meant to be reconciled to anything that would make him happy. You see, I want him to be happy, whatever happens—"
"You foolish thing!" here Prudence murmured. But the other did not seem to hear this exclamation. She went on:
"And if I didn't think he'd be happy with me I never would have said yes to him,—no, not for anything in the world. I know he has a strong affection for me, and I—" The tender voice faltered for an instant, then went on. "I love him beyondanything I can imagine in this world or the next. I suppose I am wicked, and an idolater, and all that, but it's the truth, and I can't help it. Now are you going to—are you going to be very, very kind to him? You know you almost broke his heart once, and now I think you might let him alone. Will you?"
Instead of replying immediately, Prudence hurriedly passed her hand over her eyes; then she said, lightly:
"I don't think you have any idea how much breaking a man's heart will bear, and 'brokenly live on.'"
She smiled as she made the quotation.
"You needn't answer me like that," said Carolyn. "I suppose men's hearts are something like the hearts of women, after all. But we won't discuss that. I want you to reply to me. I've talked so frankly to you because I thought on the whole I would do so. I was determined that there should be no misunderstanding. Now, what are you going to do?"
"Nothing."
"Do you mean it?" she asked, eagerly.
"Absolutely nothing,—save to look on, when I can't help it, at this beautiful drama of love—"
"And you are not going to flirt with Rodney?" Carolyn interrupted.
"No," the other said, firmly.
Carolyn drew a deep breath; then she laughed. "I know I've been talking in the most ridiculous way possible," she said; "but no matter. I had a desire to have you give me your promise, and you have. But you needn't think I don't know exactly how foolish I've been; because I do."
As Carolyn finished speaking she came to her cousin's side and took her hand for an instant. To her surprise, she found it as cold as her own, though the sun was shining hotly down upon the two.
"If I were a man," began Prudence, "and saw two girls like you and me, I shouldn't look at me, I should just go and fall in love with you."
"No; you wouldn't do any such thing; you'd think—oh, I know what you'd think. Oh, dear!" she partially turned towards the house, "is that Leander's voice? There's no one in the universe but a boy who can be in all places at once. I thought he had gone fishing. Leander," turning and speaking with some asperity, "I thought you had gone codding."
"You must be a fool, then," promptly repliedLeander, coming forward with his hands in his pockets. "I ain't goin' coddin' with the sun like this, 'n' the tide like this, 'n' late as this, I tell you. What you two been talkin' about?" He scanned the faces before him, squinting his eyes almost shut as he did so. "I declare, you look exactly as if you'd been tellin' secrets. Have ye?"
"Yes, we have," answered Prudence.
Leander came yet nearer. He reached out one grimy hand and took hold of his sister's skirt and pulled it.
"Tell me," he said. "It's such good fun to have a secret. I know two of the cook's and one of that new chambermaid's."
"Then you know enough."
"No, I don't, either. I never tell on one if I promise, you know; but I scare 'em half to death sayin' I will tell if they don't do so and so, you know. There's the cook, now. She's got so she makes my kind of choc'late cake 'bout every day 'cause she thinks if she don't I'll tell marmer something she did one time when you were all gone."
Here the boy laughed, and danced a short shuffle on the close-cut grass.
"You're a low-bred little cad, then," said Carolyn, so sharply that she rather wondered at herself.
Leander stopped dancing. His face grew very red.
"You dasn't say that again!" he shouted. "I guess you wouldn't say such rotten, nasty things if Rodney was here. You're as sweet as California honey when he's round. And I ain't a cad. 'N' if I am, who's a better right? 'N' you're a cad's sister, then,—that's what you are!"
"Welcome diversion!" cried Prudence. "We were getting very tired of telling secrets. Where's that tame crow? I haven't seen him yet."
But the boy could not answer. His face seemed swelling, his sharp eyes were filling.
"Leander, I beg your pardon," hastily said his sister.
"I ain't a cad!" said the boy, in a shrill quaver. "Rodney told me I was real gentlemanly 'bout that reward." Then, with a sudden fury, "I hate you, Carolyn Ffolliott, 'n' you needn't beg my pardon."
Leander spun around, and hurried away. As he did so, a black speck appeared over the savin-trees.