Flint Part 11

As she spoke, she moved a little that he might share the shadow of the bank.

"Don't move on my account," Flint said.

"Oh," answered Winifred, smiling, "I owe you a decent civility, since you saved my life last night."

"Don't mention it. Actions should be judged by what they cost, not what they come to; and mine cost nothing but the hole in my coat, which I don't doubt is already better than repaired under Miss Standish's skilful handiwork, so pray dismiss the subject from your thoughts. There are few, I fancy, who find it so hard as you to accept anything at the hand of another. It vexes you not to be the one always to give aid and comfort. If I knew you better, I might venture to hint that it smacks of spiritual pride."

"You generalize widely after an acquaintance of four days."

"One sees character more clearly sometimes by the flashlight of a first meeting, than when the perception is blurred by more frequent opportunities."

Again the smile, inscrutable and mocking; the eyes looked into his with a gay defiance.

"Perhaps you will be good enough to give me the benefit of these first impressions of my character. They are as comprehensive, no doubt, as those of the British traveller in America. Tell on, as the children say."

"Pardon me, I have said too much already, under the circ.u.mstances.

Praise would be impertinence, and criticism insolence."

"You shall have absolution in advance. Begin then!" she added, with a little nod of command. "What is the most striking trait of my character on first acquaintance?"

"Well, if you will have it, I should say it was a restlessness which you probably call energy; but it is a different thing. Energy is absorbed in the object which it seeks to attain. Restlessness is absorbed in the attaining."

"Hm! what next?"

"Next? Next, comes a quality almost invariably allied to such restlessness as yours,--ambition. You may have all sorts of fine theories about equality and that kind of thing; but you want power--power over the lives with which you come in contact--power for good of course; but it must be yours and wielded by you. It is not enough that things should get along somehow. They must go right in your way."

Winifred laughed.

"Ah! you say that because I wanted to show you how to set off a rocket last night."

"I should say you showed us quite satisfactorily how _not_ to set off a rocket last night."

"Don't let us revert to that episode, about which we shall probably not agree. But go on. Let me hear more of your impressions. They are quite diverting."

"No more. I dare not presume further upon my advance absolution.

Rather let me ask you to return candor for candor, and give me your impressions of me and my character, or lack of it."

"I have formed none."

"Is that quite true?"

"No," said Winifred, looking up, "it is not true at all. I formed impressions within the first ten minutes after I had seen you, only I called them, more modestly, prejudices."

"Prejudices? They were unfavorable then. Good! Let us have them!" and Flint settled himself more comfortably, bracing his head against his clasped hands; and, leaning back against the bank of sand, he sat watching the little tufts of coa.r.s.e gra.s.s springing up close beside him. Still Winifred was silent. At last Flint began himself:--

"You thought me rude and churlish, I suppose?"

"I certainly did not think you were Bayard and Sidney rolled together; but I admit you had some provocation," she answered lightly, "at least in our first meeting. When I demolished your new fishing-rod, I think you might have accepted my apologies more gracefully; and I think you need not have been so particularly uncivil when Jimmy and I tried to come to your a.s.sistance on the pond. I have not yet recovered from the reproof conveyed on that occasion by your manner, which plainly indicated that, in your opinion, it would have been more tactful for us to sail by, and ignore your disaster, or treat it as an episode which did not call for explanation or remark. I should have felt duly humiliated, no doubt; but I have become hardened to rebuffs, since I have been at Nepaug, for I meet with many, as I go about like a beggar from door to door in South East."

"Distributing tracts?" Flint asked, with eyebrows raised a little.

"No."

"Collecting statistics, perhaps?"

"Not at all; my errand is neither philanthropic nor scientific."

"Private and personal, that is, and not to be farther pursued by impertinent inquiry?"

"Oh, I have no objection to telling you, since you are not a native. I am searching for my great-great-grandmother."

Flint looked at his companion uneasily. She smiled.

"No, I have not lost my senses. Such as they are, I have them all. I do not expect to find this ancestress of mine in the flesh, nor sitting in any one of the splint rockers behind the checkered window-panes of the old South East houses. It is only her portrait for which I am searching as for hid treasure."

"Ah!"

"Yes, her portrait. I feel certain it is hidden away somewhere in South East."

"How very odd!"

"Odd? Not at all, as you will say when you come to hear the story of the original. But perhaps it would bore you to listen?"

"Go on; I am all attention."

"Well, to begin with, my great-great-grandmother was a very pretty girl."

"I can believe it."

Winifred looked quickly round, but her companion's eyes were fixed upon the horizon with an abstracted gaze which lent an air of impersonality to his words. So she began again:

"Yes, she was a young Quakeress, born, I believe, in Philadelphia; but her father and mother died, and she came to South East, to live with her uncle, when she was about eighteen. The story of her girlhood is rather vague; but somehow she fell in love with an English officer, and made a runaway match which turned out better than such affairs usually do; for his relatives received her favorably, and she made her home with them at Temple Court in Yorkshire--doesn't that sound like a book? Well, her uncle died, and she never came back to this country; but her grandson came in the early part of the century, and, following the traditions of his race, fell in love with an American girl. They were married and settled in Ma.s.sachusetts. But once, when they were visiting at the old home, my grandmother saw a portrait of her husband's grandmother hanging in the great hall at Temple Court. She was fascinated by its beauty; and when she heard the story of the runaway bride, who was an American like herself, she determined to have a copy of the portrait, and talked of engaging one of the London artists to make it for her. An old servant told my grandfather that he remembered seeing another, painted at the same time and sent over to this uncle in America. The man was sure that the address of the uncle was South East. Many a time I have heard my grandmother tell the story, which so fired my youthful fancy that I dreamed of it for years, and at last I persuaded papa to come down here this summer, and let me hunt for the picture. But I am tiring you, I am afraid."

Flint pulled his hat lower over his eyes.

"Pray go on; I am immensely interested."

"Thank you. Well, the desire for the recovery of the portrait is no longer a sentiment with me,--it is a pa.s.sion. My daily occupation now is driving about and asking for a drink of water, or inquiring about early vegetables, chickens, goslings,--anything which will afford a plausible excuse for penetrating into the dark halls or stuffy fore-rooms. Of course I rule out the modern houses. I have even tried the tavern here at the beach; but the only decorations of the walls were 'Wide Awake' and 'Fast Asleep,' and other chromos of the same p.r.o.nounced and distressing variety."

Flint took off his eye-gla.s.ses, and began to wipe them tenderly with his delicate handkerchief.

"Perhaps," he began, when he was interrupted by a wild whoop just above. It was from Jimmy Anstice, who shared the delusion, common to his age and s.e.x, that nothing is so amusing as a sudden and unexpected noise.

"Oh, Jimmy!" his sister exclaimed.

"Oh, Jimmy!" mocked the boy. "I am glad to find that you are alive.

I've been watching you two these ten minutes, and you've sat as still as if Mrs. Jarley hadn't wound you up yet."