Say and Seal Volume Ii Part 80

Motley looked from one to the other.

"I don't know what to make of either of you," he said. "Why doctor, Endecott Linden is a--a mere--I don't like to call him hard names, and I can't call him soft ones! However--to be sure--the cat may look at the king, even if his majesty won't return the compliment. Well--you and I were never thought hard-hearted, so I'll tell you my story. Did it ever happen--or _seem_ to happen, doctor--that you, _seeming_ to be in Pattaqua.s.set, went--not to church--but along the road therefrom?

Preferring the exit to the entrance--as you and I too often do?"

"It has seemed to happen to me,"--said Dr. Harrison, as if mechanically.

"Well--George Alcott and I--do you know George?--no great loss--we were kept one Sunday in that respectable little town by a freshet. Whether it was one of those rains that bring down more things from the sky than water, I don't know,--George declared it was. If it wasn't, we made discoveries."

"If you and George both used your eyes, there must have been discoveries," said Mr. Linden. "Did you take notice how green the gra.s.s looked after the rain? and that when the clouds were blown away the sun shone?"

"You're not all theology yet!" said Mr. Motley. "Be quiet--can't you?

I'm not talking to you. We were sauntering down this same road, doctor--after church,--falling in with the people, so that we could see them and be taken for churchgoers. But there wasn't much to see.--Then George declared that here was the place where Linden had secluded himself for n.o.body knows what,--then we fell naturally into lamenting the waste of such fine material, and conned over various particulars of his former life and prospects--the great promise of past years, the present melancholy mania to make money and be useful. Upon which points George and I fought as usual. Then we grew tired of the subject and of the mud--turned short about--and beheld--what do you suppose, doctor?"

"How far you had come for nothing?"

"Imagine," said Mr. Motley, taking out a fresh cigar and a match and proceeding to put them to their respective uses,--"Imagine the vision that appeared to Balaam's a.s.s--and how the a.s.s felt."

"Nay, that we cannot do," said Mr. Linden. "You tax us too far."

"In both requisitions--" added the doctor.

"There stood," said Mr. Motley, removing his cigar and waving it gracefully in one hand. "There stood close behind us on the mud--she could not have been in it--an immortal creature, in mortal merino!

We--transfixed, mute--stepped aside right and left to let her pa.s.s,--I believe George had presence of mind enough to take off his hat; and she--'severe in youthful beauty', glorious in youthful blushes--walked on, looking full at us as she went. But such a look! and from such eyes!--fabulous eyes, doctor, upon my honour. Then we saw that the merino was only a disguise. Imagine a search warrant wrapped up in moonbeams--imagine the blending of the softest sunset reflection with a keen lightning flash,--and after all you have only words--not those eyes. Linden!--seems to me your imagination serves you better here,--your own eyes are worth looking at!"

"It has had more help from you," Mr. Linden said, controlling the involuntary unbent play of eye and lip with which he had heard the description.

"Well, George raved about them for a month," Mr. Motley went on, "and staid in Pattaqua.s.set a whole week to see them again--which he didn't; so he made up his mind that they had escaped in the train of events--or of ears, and now seeks them through the world. Some day he will meet them in the possession of Mrs. Somebody--and then hang himself." And Mr. Motley puffed out clouds of smoke thereupon.

"According to your account, he could not do better," said the doctor cynically.

"I suppose the world would get on, if he did," said Mr. Motley with philosophical coolness. "But the queerity was," he added, removing the cigar once more, "what made her look at us so? Did she know by her supernatural vision that we had not been to church?--for I must say, Linden, she looked like one of your kind. Or were her unearthly ears charmed by the account of your unearthly perfections?--for George and I were doing the thing handsomely."

"It was probably that," said Mr. Linden. "Few people, I think, can listen to your stories unmoved."

"Hang it," said Mr. Motley, "I wish I could!--This vixenish old craft is behaving with a great deal too much suavity to suit my notions. I don't care about making a reverence to every wave I meet if they're going to tower up at this rate. But I guess you're right, Linden--the description of you can be made quite captivating--and her cheeks glowed like damask roses with some sort of inspiration. However, as George pathetically and poetically remarks,

'I only know she came and went!'--

the last part of which ill.u.s.trious example I shall follow. Linden, if any story don't move _you_, you're no better than the North Cape."

"Can you stand it?"--asked the doctor suddenly of his remaining companion.

"Yes--I have known Motley a long time."

"Pshaw! no, I mean this wind."

"I beg your pardon! Yes--for anything I have felt of it yet."

"If you will excuse me, I will get something more on. I have come from a warmer part of the world lately."

The doctor disappeared, and found something in another part of the boat to detain him.

Dr. Harrison had stood one conversation, but he had no mind to stand a second. He did not think it necessary. If by any possibility he could have put himself on board of another steamer, or packet; or have leaped forward into France, or back into America!--he would have done it. But since he must see Mr. Linden from time to time in their present situation, he contrived that that should be all. Even that was as seldom and as little as possible; the art _not to see_, Dr. Harrison could practise to perfection, and did now; so far as he could without rendering it too obviously a matter of his own will. That would not have suited his plans. So he saw his one-time friend as often as he must, and then was civil invariably, civil with the respect which was Dr. Harrison's highest degree of civility and which probably in this instance was true and heartfelt; but he was cool, after his slight gay surface manner, and even when speaking kept at a distance. For the rest, it is notable, even in so small a s.p.a.ce as the walls of a steamer shut in, how far apart people can be that have no wish to be near. Days pa.s.sed that saw at the utmost only a bow exchanged between these two; many days that heard but one or two words. Mr. Linden's own plans and occupations, the arrangement of his time, helped to further the doctor's wish. There was many an hour when Dr. Harrison would not have found him if he had tried, but when they were really together the non-intercourse was the doctor's fault. For all that had been, Mr.

Linden was still his friend,--he realized more and more every day the value of the prize for which Dr. Harrison had played and lost; and pity had made forgiveness easy. He was ready for all their old kindly intercourse, but seeing the doctor shunned him there was nothing to do but follow the lead. Sometimes indeed they came together for a few minutes--were thrown so--in a way that was worse than hours of talk.

The Vulcan had made about half her pa.s.sage, and a fair, fresh morning had brought most of the pa.s.sengers on deck. Mr. Linden was not there, but the rest were grouped and watching the approach of a homeward bound steamer; when as she neared them Mr. Linden too came on deck. It was to talk with the Captain however, not the pa.s.sengers--or to consult with him, for the two stood together speaking and smiling. "You can try,"

Dr. Harrison heard the Captain say; and then he lifted his trumpet and hailed--the other Captain responding. Still the steamer came on, nearer and nearer,--still the two on the deck of the Vulcan stood side by side; till at a certain point, just where the vessels were at the nearest, Captain Cyclops gave his companion a little signal nod. And Mr. Linden stepping forward a pace or two, lent the whole power of his skill and strength to send a despatch on board the Polar Bear. The little packet sped from his hand, spinning through the air like a dark speck. Not a person spoke or moved--Would it reach?--would it fail?--until the packet, just clearing the guards, fell safe on the deck of the other vessel, was picked up by her Captain and proclaimed through the speaking trumpet. Slightly raising his hat then, Mr. Linden drew back from his forward position; just as a shout of delighted acclaim burst from both the boats.

"That went with a will, I tell _you!_" said Captain Cyclops with a little nod of his head.

"I say, Linden!" spoke out one of the young men--"is that your heart you sent home?"

"I feel it beating here yet," Mr. Linden answered. But just how much of it he carried back to his state-room for the next hour has never been ascertained. Society had no help from Dr. Harrison for more than that length of time. Neither could proximity nor anything else make him, visibly, aware of Mr. Linden's existence during the rest of the day.

Mr. Linden knew the doctor too well--and it maybe said, knew Faith too well--to be much surprised at that. If he could have spared Dr.

Harrison the pain of seeing his little air-sent missive, he would have done it; but the letter could go but at one time, and from one side of the ship--and just there and then Dr. Harrison chose to be. But though the sort of growing estrangement which the doctor practised sprang from no wish nor feeling but his own, yet Mr. Linden found it hard to touch it in any way. Sometimes he tried--sometimes he left it for Time's touching, which mends so many things. And slowly, and gently, _that_ touch did work--not by fading one feeling but by deepening another.

Little as Dr. Harrison had to do with his friend, almost every one else in the ship had a good deal, and the place which Mr. Linden soon took in the admiration as well as the respect of the pa.s.sengers, could not fail to come to the doctor's notice. Men of very careless life and opinions pruned their language in his presence,--those who lived but for themselves, and took poor care of what they lived for, pa.s.sed him reverently on some of his errands through the ship. Dr. Harrison had never lived with him before, and little as they saw each other, you could as well conceal the perfume of a hidden bunch of violets--as well shut your senses to the spring air--as could the doctor shut his to the beauty of that well-grown Christian character. The light of it shone, and the influence of it went forth through all the ship.

"What a strange, incomprehensible, admirable fellow, Linden is!" said Mr. Motley one day when he and the doctor were sunning themselves in profound laziness on deck. It was rather late Sunday afternoon, and the morning service had left a sort of respectful quietness behind it.

"He must be!" said the doctor with a slight indescribable expression,--"if at this moment you can be roused to wonder at anything."

Mr. Motley inclined his head with perfect suavity in honour of the doctor's words.

"It's a glorious thing to lie here on deck and do nothing!" he said, extending his elegantly clad limbs rather more into the distance. "How fine the breeze is, doctor--what do you think of the day, as a whole?"

"Unfinished, at present,--"

"Well--" said Mr. Motley,--"take that part of it which you with such precision term 'this moment',--what do you think of it as it appears here on deck?"

"Sunny--" said the doctor,--"and we are flies. On the whole I think it's a bore, Motley."

"What do you think of the Black Hole of Calcutta, in comparison?" said Mr. Motley closing his eyes.

"The difference is, that _that_ would have been an insufferable bore."

Mr. Motley smiled--stroking his chin with affectionate fingers. "On the whole," he said, "I think you're right in that position. What do you suppose Linden's about at this moment?"

"Is he your ward?" said the doctor.

"He's down below--" said Mr. Motley with a significant pointing of his train of remarks. "By which I don't mean! that he's left this planet--for truly, when he does I think it will be in a different direction; but he's down in the steerage--trying to get some of those creatures to follow him."

"Which way?"

"You and George Alcott have such a snappish thread in you!" said Mr.

Motley yawning--"only it sits better on George than it does on you. But I like it--it rather excites me to be snubbed. However, here comes Linden--so I hope they'll not follow him _this_ way."

"This way" Mr. Linden himself did not come, but chose another part of the deck for a somewhat prolonged walk in the seabreeze. The doctor glanced towards him, then moved his chair slightly, so as to put the walker out of his range of vision.