Nobody Part 31

Now and then a thought or two went to the hotel and its new inhabitants, and pa.s.sed in review the breakfast that morning. Lois had taken scarce any part in the conversation; her place at table put her at a distance from Mr. Caruthers; and after those few first words she had been able to keep very quiet, as her wish was. But she had listened, and observed. Well, the talk had not been, as to quality, one whit better than what Shampuashuh could furnish every day; nay, Lois thought the advantage of sense and wit and shrewdness was decidedly on the side of her country neighbours; while the staple of talk was nearly the same. A small sort of gossip and remark, with commentary, on other people and other people's doings, past, present, and to come. It had no interest whatever to Lois's mind, neither subject nor treatment. But the _manner_ to-day gave her something to think about. The manner was different; and the manner not of talk only, but of all that was done.

Not so did Shampuashuh discuss its neighbours, and not so did Shampuashuh eat bread and b.u.t.ter. Shampuashuh ways were more rough, angular, hurried; less quietness, less grace, whether of movement or speech; less calm security in every action; less delicacy of taste. It must have been good blood in Lois which recognized all this, but recognize it she did; and, as I said, every now and then an involuntary thought of it came over the girl. She felt that she was unlike these people; not of their cla.s.s or society; she was sure they knew it too, and would act accordingly; that is, not rudely or ungracefully making the fact known, but nevertheless feeling, and showing that they felt, that she belonged to a detached portion of humanity. Or they; what did it matter? Lois did not misjudge or undervalue herself; she knew she was the equal of these people, perhaps more than their equal, in true refinement of feeling and delicacy of perception; she knew she was not awkward in manner; yet she knew, too, that she had not their ease of habit, nor the confidence given by knowledge of the world and all other sorts of knowledge. Her up-bringing and her surroundings had not been like theirs; they had been rougher, coa.r.s.er, and if of as good material, of far inferior form. She thought with herself that she would keep as much out of their company as she properly could. For there was beneath all this consciousness an unrecognized, or at least unacknowledged, sense of other things in Lois's mind; of Mr. Caruthers'

possible feelings, his people's certain displeasure, and her own promise to her grandmother. She would keep herself out of the way; easy at Appledore--

"Have I found you, Miss Lothrop?" said a soft, gracious voice, with a glad accent.

CHAPTER XIV.

WATCHED.

"Have I found you, Miss Lothrop?"

Looking over her shoulder, Lois saw the handsome features of Mr.

Caruthers, wearing a smile of most undoubted satisfaction. And, to the scorn of all her previous considerations, she was conscious of a flush of pleasure in her own mind. This was not suffered to appear.

"I thought I was where n.o.body could find me," she answered.

"Do you think there is such a place in the whole world?" said Tom gallantly. Meanwhile he scrambled over some inconvenient rocks to a place by her side. "I am very glad to find you, Miss Lothrop, both ways,--first at Appledore, and then here."

To this compliment Lois made no reply.

"What has driven you to this little out-of-the-way nook?"

"You mean Appledore?"

"No, no! this very uncomfortable situation among the rocks here? What drove you to it?"

"You think there is no attraction?"

"I don't see what attraction there is here for you."

"Then you should not have come to Appledore."

"Why not?"

"There is nothing here for you."

"Ah, but! What is there for you? Do you find anything here to like now, really?"

"I have been down in this 'uncomfortable place' ever since near five o'clock--except while we were at breakfast."

"What for?"

"What for?" said Lois, laughing. "If you ask, it is no use to tell you, Mr. Caruthers."

"Ah, be generous!" said Tom. "I'm a stupid fellow, I know; but do try and help me a little to a sense of the beautiful. _Is_ it the beautiful, by the way, or is it something else?"

Lois's laugh rang softly out again. She was a country girl, it is true; but her laugh was as sweet to hear as the ripple of the waters among the stones. The laugh of anybody tells very much of what he is, making revelations undreamt of often by the laugher. A harsh croak does not come from a mind at peace, nor an empty clangour from a heart full of sensitive happiness; nor a coa.r.s.e laugh from a person of refined sensibilities, nor a hard laugh from a tender spirit. Moreover, people cannot dissemble successfully in laughing; the truth comes out in a startling manner. Lois's laugh was sweet and musical; it was a pleasure to hear. And Tom's eyes said so.

"I always knew I was a stupid fellow," he said; "but I never felt myself so stupid as to-day! What is it, Miss Lothrop?"

"What is what, Mr. Caruthers?--I beg your pardon."

"What is it you find in this queer place?"

"I am afraid it is waste trouble to tell you."

"Good morning!" cried a cheery voice here from below them; and looking towards the water they saw Mr. Lenox, making his way as best he could over slippery seaweed and wet rocks.

"Hollo, George!" cried Tom in a different tone--"What are you doing there?"

"Trying to keep out of the water, don't you see?"

"To an ordinary mind, that object would seem more likely to be attained if you kept further away from it."

"May I come up where you are?"

"Certainly!" said Lois. "But take care how you do it."

A little scrambling and the help of Tom's hand accomplished the feat; and the new comer looked about him with much content.

"You came the other way," he said. "I see. I shall know how next time.

What a delightful post, Miss Lothrop!"

"I have been trying to find what she came here for; and she won't tell me," said Tom.

"You know what you came here for," said his friend. "Why cannot you credit other people with as much curiosity as you have yourself?"

"I credit them with more," said Tom. "But curiosity on Appledore will find itself baffled, I should say."

"Depends on what curiosity is after," said Lenox. "Tell him, Miss Lothrop; he will not be any the wiser."

"Then why should I tell him?" said Lois.

"Perhaps I shall!"

Lois's laugh came again.

"Seriously. If any one were to ask me, not only what we but what anybody should come to this place for, I should be unprepared with an answer. I am forcibly reminded of an old gentleman who went up Mount Washington on one occasion when I also went up. It came on to rain--a sudden summer gust and downpour, hiding the very mountain it self from our eyes; hiding the path, hiding the members of the party from each other. We were descending the mountain by that time, and it was ticklish work for a nervous person; every one was committed to his own sweet guidance; and as I went blindly stumbling along, I came every now and then upon the old gentleman, also stumbling along, on his donkey.

And whenever I was near enough to him, I could hear him dismally soliloquizing, 'Why am I here!'--in a tone of mingled disgust and self-reproach which was in the highest degree comical."

"So that is your state of mind now, is it?" said Tom.