A Young Man in a Hurry, and Other Short Stories Part 15

Munn examined the water and muttered that the Bible gave him his authority for that sort of fis.h.i.+ng.

"He's a fake," thought Lansing, in sudden disgust. Involuntarily he glanced around at the girl under the elm. The beauty of her pale face startled him. Surely innocence looked out of those dark-blue eyes, fixed on him under the shadow of her straw hat. He noted that she also wore the silvery-gray uniform of the elect. He turned his eyes towards the house, where a dozen women, old and young, were sitting out under the tree, sewing and singing peacefully. The burden of their song came sweetly across the pasture; a golden robin, high in the elm's feathery tip, warbled incessant accompaniment to the breeze and the flowing of water and the far song of the women.

"We don't mean to annoy you," said Lansing, quietly; "I for one believe that we shall find you and your community the best of courteous neighbors."

Munn looked at him with his cunning, amber-yellow eyes and stroked his beard.

"What do you want, anyway?" he said.

"I'll tell you what I want," said Lansing, sharply; "I want you and your people to observe the game laws."

"Keep your s.h.i.+rt on, young man," said Munn, coa.r.s.ely, and turned on his heel. Before he had taken the second step Lansing laid his hand on his shoulder and spun him around, his grip tightening like a vise.

"What y' doing?" snarled Munn, shrinking and squirming, terrified by the violent grasp, the pain of which almost sickened him.

Lansing looked at him, then shoved him out of his path, and carefully rinsed his hands in the stream. Then he laughed and turned around, but Munn was making rapid time towards the house, where the gray-clad women sat singing under the neglected apple-trees. The young man's eyes fell on the girl under the elm; she was apparently watching his every movement from those dark-blue eyes under the straw hat.

He took off his cap and went to her, and told her politely how amiable had been his intentions, and how stringent the game laws were, and begged her to believe that he intended no discourtesy to her community when he warned them against the wholesale destruction of the trout.

He had a pleasant, low voice, very attractive to women; she smiled and listened, offering no comment.

"And I want to a.s.sure you," he ended, "that we at the club will always respect your boundaries as we know you will respect ours. I fear one of our keepers was needlessly rude last night--from his own account. He's an old man; he supposes that all people know the game laws."

Lansing paused; she bent her head a trifle. After a silence he started on, saying, "Good-morning," very pleasantly.

"I wish you would sit down and talk to me," said the girl, without raising her head.

Lansing was too astonished to reply; she turned her head partly towards him as though listening. Something in the girl's att.i.tude arrested his attention; he involuntarily dropped on one knee to see her face. It was in shadow.

"I want to tell you who I am," she said, without looking at him. "I am Eily O'Hara."

Lansing received the communication with perfect gravity. "Your father owned this land?" he asked.

"Yes; I own it now, ... I think."

He was silent, curious, amused.

"I think I do," she repeated; "I have never seen my father's will."

"Doubtless your lawyer has it," he suggested.

"No; I have it. It is in a steel box; I have the key hanging around my neck inside my clothes. I have never opened the box."

"But why do you not open the box?" asked Lansing, smiling.

She hesitated; color crept into her cheeks. "I have waited," she said; "I was alone; my father said--that--that--" She stammered; the rich flush deepened to her neck.

Lansing, completely nonplussed, sat watching the wonderful beauty of that young face.

"My father told me to open it only when I found an honest man in the world," she said, slowly.

The undertone of pathos in her voice drove the smile from Lansing's lips.

"Have you found the world so dishonest?" he asked, seriously.

"I don't know; I came from Notre Dame de Sainte Croix last year. Mr.

Munn was my guardian; ... said he was; ... I suppose he is."

Lansing looked at her in sympathy.

"I am not one of the community," she said. "I only stay because I have no other home but this. I have no money, ... at least I know of none that is mine." Lansing was silent and attentive.

"I--I heard your voice; ... I wanted to speak to you--to hear you speak to me," she said. A new timidity came into her tone; she raised her head. "I--somehow when you spoke--I felt that you--you were honest." She stammered again, but Lansing's cool voice brought her out of her difficulty and painful shyness.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"I'm Dr. Lansing," he said.

"Will you open my steel box and read my papers for me?" she inquired, innocently.

"I will--if you wish," he said, impulsively; "if you think it wise. But I think you had better read the papers for yourself."

"Why, I can't read," she said, apparently surprised that he should not know it.

"You mean that you were not taught to read in your convent school?" he asked, incredulously.

A curious little sound escaped her lips; she raised both slender hands and unpinned her hat. Then she turned her head to his.

The deep-blue beauty of her eyes thrilled him; then he started and leaned forward, closer, closer to her exquisite face.

"My child," he cried, softly, "my poor child!" And she smiled and fingered the straw hat in her lap.

"Will you read my father's papers for me?" she said.

"Yes--yes--if you wish. Yes, indeed!" After a moment he said: "How long have you been blind?"

IV

That evening, at dusk, Lansing came into the club, and went directly to his room. He carried a small, shabby satchel; and when he had locked his door he opened the satchel and drew from it a flat steel box.

For half an hour he sat by his open window in the quiet starlight, considering the box, turning it over and over in his hands. At length he opened his trunk, placed the box inside, locked the trunk, and noiselessly left the room.

He encountered Coursay in the hall, and started to pa.s.s him with an abstracted nod, then changed his mind and slipped his arm through the arm of his young kinsman.

"Thought you meant to cut me," said Coursay, half laughing, half in earnest.

"Why?" Lansing stopped short; then, "Oh, because you played the fool with Agatha in the canoe? You two will find yourselves in a crankier craft than that if you don't look sharp."