University of Virginia Library

5. V.

The party, my dear Jack, was as dreary as
possible. A lieutenant of the navy, the rector
of the Episcopal church at Stillwater, and a society
swell from Nahant. The lieutenant looked
as if he had swallowed a couple of his buttons,
and found the bullion rather indigestible; the
rector was a pensive youth, of the daffydowndilly
sort; and the swell from Nahant was a very
weak tidal wave indeed. The women were much
better, as they always are; the two Miss Kingsburys
of Philadelphia, staying at the Sea-shell
House, two bright and engaging girls. But
Marjorie Daw!

The company broke up soon after tea, and I
remained to smoke a cigar with the colonel on
the piazza. It was like seeing a picture to see
Miss Marjorie hovering around the old soldier,
and doing a hundred gracious little things for

him. She brought the cigars and lighted the
tapers with her own delicate fingers, in the most
enchanting fashion. As we sat there, she came
and went in the summer twilight, and seemed,
with her white dress and pale gold hair, like
some lovely phantom that had sprung into existence
out of the smoke-wreaths. If she had melted
into air, like the statue of Galatea in the play,
I should have been more sorry than surprised.

It was easy to perceive that the old colonel
worshipped her, and she him. I think the relation
between an elderly father and a daughter
just blooming into womanhood the most beautiful
possible. There is in it a subtile sentiment
that cannot exist in the case of mother and
daughter, or that of son and mother. But this
is getting into deep water.

I sat with the Daws until half past ten, and
saw the moon rise on the sea. The ocean, that
had stretched motionless and black against the
horizon, was changed by magic into a broken
field of glittering ice, interspersed with marvellous
silvery fjords. In the far distance the Isles
of Shoals loomed up like a group of huge bergs
drifting down on us. The Polar Regions in a

June thaw! It was exceedingly fine. What did
we talk about? We talked about the weather—
and you! The weather has been disagreeable
for several days past,—and so have you. I
glided from one topic to the other very naturally.
I told my friends of your accident; how
it had frustrated all our summer plans, and what
our plans were. I played quite a spirited solo on
the fibula. Then I described you; or, rather, I
did n't. I spoke of your amiability, of your
patience under this severe affliction; of your
touching gratitude when Dillon brings you little
presents of fruit; of your tenderness to your
sister Fanny, whom you would not allow to
stay in town to nurse you, and how you heroically
sent her back to Newport, preferring to
remain alone with Mary, the cook, and your
man Watkins, to whom, by the way, you were
devotedly attached. If you had been there,
Jack, you would n't have known yourself. I
should have excelled as a criminal lawyer, if
I had not turned my attention to a different
branch of jurisprudence.

Miss Marjorie asked all manner of leading questions
concerning you. It did not occur to me

then, but it struck me forcibly afterwards, that
she evinced a singular interest in the conversation.
When I got back to my room, I recalled
how eagerly she leaned forward, with her full,
snowy throat in strong moonlight, listening to
what I said. Positively, I think I made her like
you!

Miss Daw is a girl whom you would like immensely,
I can tell you that. A beauty without
affectation, a high and tender nature, — if one
can read the soul in the face. And the old colonel
is a noble character, too.

I am glad the Daws are such pleasant people.
The Pines is an isolated spot, and my resources
are few. I fear I should have found life here
somewhat monotonous before long, with no other
society than that of my excellent sire. It is true,
I might have made a target of the defenceless
invalid; but I have n't a taste for artillery, moi.