CHAPTER XI.
"The man who lays a hand upon a woman," said Jimmy, paddling strongly,"save in the way of kindness--I'm very sorry, Molly, but you didn'tseem able to make up your mind. You aren't angry, are you?"
There was a brief pause, while Molly apparently debated the matter inher mind.
"You wouldn't take me back even if I were angry," she said.
"You have guessed it," said Jimmy approvingly. "Do you read muchpoetry, Molly?"
"Why?"
"I was only thinking how neatly some of these poets put a thing. Thechap who said, 'distance lends enchantment to the view,' for instance.Take the case of Wesson. He looks quite nice when you see him at adistance like this, with a good strip of water in between."
Mr. Wesson was still standing in a statuesque attitude on the bank.Molly, gazing over the side of the boat into the lake, abstained fromfeasting her eyes on the picturesque spectacle.
"Jolly the water looks," said Jimmy.
"I was just thinking it looked rather dirty."
"Beastly," agreed Jimmy.
The water as a topic of conversation dried up. Mr. Wesson had startednow to leave the stricken field. There was a reproachful look abouthis back which harassed Molly's sensitive conscience. Jimmy, on theother hand--men being of coarser fibre than women, especially as tothe conscience--appeared in no way distressed at the sight.
"You oughtn't to have done it, Jimmy," said Molly.
"I had to. There seemed to be no other way of ever getting you byyourself for five minutes at a stretch. You're always in the middle ofa crowd nowadays."
"But I must look after my guests."
"Not a bit of it. Let 'em rip. Why should they monopolize you?"
"It will be awfully unpleasant meeting Mr. Wesson after this."
"It is always unpleasant meeting Wesson."
"I shan't know what to say."
"Don't say anything."
"I shan't be able to look him in the face."
"That's a bit of luck for you."
"You aren't much help, Jimmy."
"The subject of Wesson doesn't inspire me somehow--I don't know why.Besides, you've simply got to say you changed your mind. You're awoman. It's expected of you."
"I feel awfully mean."
"What you want to do is to take your thoughts off the business. Keepyour mind occupied with something else. Then you'll forget all aboutit. Keep talking to me about things. That's the plan. There are heapsof subjects. The weather, for instance, as a start. Hot, isn't it?"
"We're going to have a storm. There's a sort of feel in the air. We'dbetter go back, I think."
"Tush! And possibly bah!" said Jimmy, digging the paddle into thewater. "We've only just started. I say, who was that man I saw youtalking to after lunch?"
"How soon after lunch?"
"Just before the rehearsal. He was with your father. Short chap with asquare face. Dressed in gray. I hadn't seen him before."
"Oh, that was Mr. Galer. A New York friend of father's."
"Did you know him out in New York?"
"I didn't. But he seems to know father very well."
"What's his name, did you say?"
"Galer. Samuel Galer. Did you ever hear of him?"
"Never. But there were several people in New York I didn't know. Howdid your father meet him over here?"
"He was stopping at the inn in the village, and he'd heard about theabbey being so old, so he came over to look at it, and the firstperson he met was father. He's going to stay in the house now. Thecart was sent down for his things this afternoon. Did you feel a spotof rain then? I wish you'd paddle back."
"Not a drop. That storm's not coming till to-night. Why, it's agorgeous evening."
He turned the nose of the boat toward the island, which lay, cool andgreen and mysterious, in the middle of the lake. The heat was intense.The sun, as if conscious of having only a brief spell of work beforeit, blazed fiercely, with the apparent intention of showing what itcould do before the rain came. The air felt curiously parched.
"There!" said Molly. "Surely you felt something, then."
"I did."
"Is there time to get back before it begins?"
"No."
"We shall get soaked!"
"Not a bit of it. On the other side of the island there is a handylittle boat-house sort of place. We will put in there."
The boathouse was simply a little creek covered over with boards andcapable of sheltering an ordinary rowing boat. Jimmy ran the canoe injust as the storm began, and turned her broadside on so that theycould watch the rain, which was sweeping over the lake in sheets.
"Just in time," he said, shipping the paddle. "Snug in here, isn'tit?"
"We _should_ have got wet in another minute! I hope it won't lastlong."
"I hope it will, because I've got something very important to say toyou, and I don't want to have to hurry it. Are you quite comfortable?"
"Yes, thanks."
"I don't know how to put it exactly. I mean, I don't want to offendyou or anything. What I mean to say is--do you mind if I smoke?Thanks. I don't know why it is, but I always talk easier if I've got acigarette going."
He rolled one with great deliberation and care. Molly watched himadmiringly.
"You're the only man I've ever seen roll a cigarette properly, Jimmy,"she said. "Everybody else leaves them all flabby at the ends."
"I learned the trick from a little Italian who kept a clothing storein the Bowery. It was the only useful thing he could do."
"Look at the rain!"
Jimmy leaned forward.
"Molly----"
"I wonder if poor Mr. Wesson got indoors before it began. I do hope hedid."
Jimmy sat back again. He scowled. Every man is liable on occasion tobehave like a sulky schoolboy. Jimmy did so.
"You seem to spend most of your time thinking about Wesson," he saidsavagely.
Molly had begun to hum a tune to herself as she watched the rain. Shestopped. A profound and ghastly silence brooded over the canoe.
"Molly," said Jimmy at last, "I'm sorry."
No reply.
"Molly."
"Well?"
"I'm sorry."
Molly turned.
"I wish you wouldn't say things like that, Jimmy. It hurts--from you."
He could see that there were tears in her eyes.
"Molly, don't!"
She turned her head away once more.
"I can't help it, Jimmy. It hurts. Everything's so changed. I'mmiserable. You wouldn't have said a thing like that in the old days."
"Molly, if you knew----"
"It's all right, Jimmy. It was silly of me. I'm all right now! Therain has stopped. Let's go back, shall we?"
"Not yet. For God's sake, not yet! This is my only chance. Directly weget back, it will be the same miserable business all over again; thesame that it's been every day since I came to this place. Heavens!When you first told me that you were living at the abbey, I wasabsolutely happy, like a fool. I might have known how it would be.Every day there's a crowd round you. I never get a chance of talkingto you. I consider myself lucky if you speak a couple of words to me.If I'd known the slow torture it was going to be, I'd have taken thenext train back to London. I can't stand it. Molly, you remember whatfriends we were in the old days. Was it ever anything more with you?Was it? Is it now?"
"I was very fond of you, Jimmy." He could hardly hear the words.
"Was it ever anything more than that? Is it now? That was three yearsago. You were a child. We were just good friends then. I don't wantfriendship now. It's not enough. I want you--_you_. You were right amoment ago. Everything _has_ changed. For me, at least. Has it foryou? Has it for you, Molly?"
On the island a thrush had begun to sing. Molly raised her head, as ifto listen. The water lapped against the sides of the canoe.
"Has it, Molly?"
She bent over, and dabbled one finger in the water.
"I--I think it has, Jimmy,
" she whispered.
The Gem Collector Page 11