The Little Red Foot Part 26

I kissed her hands, saying that it was I who needed forgiveness, to so speak to her in her deep anxiety and unhappiness; but she shook her head and bade me remain and eat breakfast; and went away to her chamber to dress, carrying Claudia to aid her, and leaving me alone there with the girl Penelope.

"So," said I civilly, though still annoyed by memory of my horse and how this girl had carried everything with so high a hand, "so you have lived in France?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hum! Well, did you find the people agreeable?"

"Yes, sir--the children. I was but fifteen when I left France."

"Then you now own to eighteen years."

"Yes, sir."

"A venerable age."

At that she lifted her brown eyes. I smiled; and that enchanting, glimmering smile touched her lips again. And I thought of what I had heard concerning her in Caughnawaga, and how, when the old gentleman was enjoying his afternoon nap, she was accustomed to take her knitting to the porch.

And I remembered, too, what Nick and others said concerning all the gallants of the countryside, how they swarmed about that porch like flies around a sap-pan.

"I have been told," said I, "that all young men in Tryon sit ringed around you when you take your knitting to the porch at Cayadutta Lodge.

Nor can I blame them, now that I have seen you smile."

At that she blushed so brightly that I was embarra.s.sed and somewhat astonished to see how small a progress this girl had really made in coquetry. I was to learn that she blushed easily; I did not know it then; but it presently amused me to find her, after all, so unschooled.

"Why," said I, "should you show your colours to a pa.s.sing craft that fires no shot nor even thinks to board you? I am no pirate, Penelope; like those Johnstown gallants who gather like flies, they say----"

But I checked my words, not daring to plague her further, for the colour was surging in her cheeks and she seemed unaccustomed to such harmless bantering as mine.

"Lord!" thought I, "here is a very lie that this maid is any such siren as Nick thinks her, for her pretty thumb is still wet with sucking."

Yet I myself had become sensible that there really was about her a _something_--exactly what I knew not--but some seductive quality, some vague enchantment about her, something unusual which compelled men's notice. It was not, I thought, entirely the agreeable contrast of yellow hair and dark eyes; nor a smooth skin like new snow touched to a rosy hue by the afterglow.

She sat near the window, where I stood gazing out across the water, toward the mountains beyond. Her hands, joined, rested flat between her knees; her hair, in the sun, was like maple gold reflected in a ripple.

"Lord!" thought I, "small wonder that the gay blades of Tryon should come a-meddling to undo so pretty a thing."

But the thought did not please me, yet it was no concern o' mine. But I now comprehended how this girl might attract men, and, strangely enough, was sorry for it.

For it seemed plain that here was no coquette by intention or by any knowledge of the art of pleasing men; but she was one, nevertheless, so sweetly her dark eyes regarded you when you spoke; so lovely the glimmer of her smile.

And it was, no doubt, something of these that men noticed--and her youth and inexperience, which is tender tinder to hardened flint that is ever eager to strike fire and start soft stuff blazing.

CHAPTER XII

THE SHAPE IN WHITE

We breakfasted on soupaan, new milk, johnnycake, and troutlings caught by Colas, who had gone by canoe to the outlet of Hans' Creek by daylight, after I had awakened him. Which showed me how easily one could escape from the Summer House, in spite of guards patrolling the neck and mainland road.

We were four at table; Lady Johnson, Claudia, Penelope, and I; and all seemed to be in better humour, for Claudia's bright eyes were ever roaming toward the Continental camp, where smart officers pa.s.sed and repa.s.sed in the bright sunlight; and Lady Johnson did not conceal her increasing conviction that Sir John had got clean away; which, naturally, pleased the poor child mightily;--and Penelope, who had offered very simply to serve us at table, sat silent and contented by the civil usage she received from Polly Johnson, who told her very sweetly that her place was in a chair and not behind it.

"For," said my lady, "a parson's daughter may serve where her heart directs, but is nowise or otherwise to be uncla.s.sed."

"Were I obliged by circ.u.mstances to labour for my bread," said Claudia, "would you still entertain honourable though ardent sentiments toward me, Jack?"

Which saucy question I smiled aside, though it irritated me, and oddly, too, because Penelope Grant had heard--though why I should care a farthing for that I myself could not understand.

Lady Johnson laid a hand on Penelope's, who looked up at her with that shy, engaging smile I had already noticed. And,

"Penelope," said she, "if rumour does not lie, and if all our young gallants do truly gather 'round when you take your knitting to the porch of Cayadutta Lodge, then you should make it very plain to all that you are a parson's daughter as well as servant to Douw Fonda."

"How should I conduct, my lady?"

"Firmly, child. And send any light o' love a-packing at the first apropos!"

"Oh, lud!" says Claudia, "would you make a nun of her, Polly? Sure the child must learn----"

"Learn to take care of herself," quoth Polly Johnson tartly. "You have been schooled from childhood, Claudia, and heaven knows you have had opportunities enough to study that beast called man!"

"I love him, too," said Claudia. "Do you, Penelope?"

"Men please me," said the Scotch girl shyly. "I do not think them beasts."

"They bite," snapped Lady Johnson.

"Slap them," said Claudia,--"and that is all there is to it."

"You think any man ever has been tamed and the beast cast out of him, even after marriage?" demanded Lady Johnson. She smiled, but I caught the undertone of bitterness in her gaiety, poor girl!

"Before marriage," said Claudia coolly, "man is exactly as treacherous as he is afterward;--no more so, no less. What about it? You take the creature as he is fas.h.i.+oned by his Maker, or you drive him away and live life like a cloistered nun. What is your choice, Penelope?"

"I have no pa.s.sion for a cloister," replied the girl, so candidly that all laughed, and she blushed prettily.

"That is best," nodded Claudia; "accept the creature as he is. We're fools if we're bitten before we're married, and fortunate if we're not nipped afterward. Anyway, I love men, and so G.o.d bless them, for they can't help being what they are and it's our own fault if they play too roughly and hurt us."

Lady Johnson laughed and laid her hand lightly on my shoulder.

"Dear Jack," said she, "we do not mean you, of course."

"Oho!" cried Claudia, "it's in 'em all and crops out one day. Jack Drogue is no tamer than the next man. Nay, I know the sort--meek as a mouse among petticoats----"

"Claudia!" protested Lady Johnson.

"I hear you, Polly. But when I solemnly swear to you that I have been afraid of this young man----"