in a town. The memory somehow evaporated.This slim creature before me, flitting to and fro with the grace of thewoodland life, swift, supple, adroit, on her knees blowing the fire, orstirring the frying-pan through a veil of smoke, suddenly seemed theonly way I had ever really seen her. Here she was at home; in London shebecame some one concealed by clothes, an artificial doll overdressed andmoving by clockwork, only a portion of her alive. Here she was alive allover.
I forget altogether how she was dressed, just as I forget how anyparticular tree was dressed, or how the markings ran on any one of theboulders that lay about the Camp. She looked just as wild and naturaland untamed as everything else that went to make up the scene, and morethan that I cannot say.
Pretty, she was decidedly not. She was thin, skinny, dark-haired, andpossessed of great physical strength in the form of endurance. She had,too, something of the force and vigorous purpose of a man, tempestuoussometimes and wild to passionate, frightening her mother, and puzzlingher easy-going father with her storms of waywardness, while at the sametime she stirred his admiration by her violence. A pagan of the pagansshe was besides, and with some haunting suggestion of old-world paganbeauty about her dark face and eyes. Altogether an odd and difficultcharacter, but with a generosity and high courage that made her verylovable.
In town life she always seemed to me to feel cramped, bored, a devil ina cage, in her eyes a hunted expression as though any moment she dreadedto be caught. But up in these spacious solitudes all this disappeared.Away from the limitations that plagued and stung her, she would show ather best, and as I watched her moving about the Camp I repeatedly foundmyself thinking of a wild creature that had just obtained its freedomand was trying its muscles.
Peter Sangree, of course, at once went down before her. But she was soobviously beyond his reach, and besides so well able to take care ofherself, that I think her parents gave the matter but little thought,and he himself worshipped at a respectful distance, keeping admirablecontrol of his passion in all respects save one; for at his age the eyesare difficult to master, and the yearning, almost the devouring,expression often visible in them was probably there unknown even tohimself. He, better than any one else, understood that he had fallen inlove with something most hard of attainment, something that drew him tothe very edge of life, and almost beyond it. It, no doubt, was a secretand terrible joy to him, this passionate worship from afar; only I thinkhe suffered more than any one guessed, and that his want of vitality wasdue in large measure to the constant stream of unsatisfied yearning thatpoured for ever from his soul and body. Moreover, it seemed to me, whonow saw them for the first time together, that there was an unnamablesomething--an elusive quality of some kind--that marked them asbelonging to the same world, and that although the girl ignored him shewas secretly, and perhaps unknown to herself, drawn by some attributevery deep in her own nature to some quality equally deep in his.
This, then, was the party when we first settled down into our twomonths' camp on the island in the Baltic Sea. Other figures flitted fromtime to time across the scene, and sometimes one reading man, sometimesanother, came to join us and spend his four hours a day in theclergyman's tent, but they came for short periods only, and they wentwithout leaving much trace in my memory, and certainly they played noimportant part in what subsequently happened.
The weather favoured us that night, so that by sunset the tents were up,the boats unloaded, a store of wood collected and chopped into lengths,and the candle-lanterns hung round ready for lighting on the trees.Sangree, too, had picked deep mattresses of balsam boughs for thewomen's beds, and had cleared little paths of brushwood from their tentsto the central fireplace. All was prepared for bad weather. It was acosy supper and a well-cooked one that we sat down to and ate under thestars, and, according to the clergyman, the only meal fit to eat we hadseen since we left London a week before.
The deep stillness, after that roar of steamers, trains, and tourists,held something that thrilled, for as we lay round the fire there was nosound but the faint sighing of the pines and the soft lapping of thewaves along the shore and against the sides of the boat in the lagoon.The ghostly outline of her white sails was just visible through thetrees, idly rocking to and fro in her calm anchorage, her sheetsflapping gently against the mast. Beyond lay the dim blue shapes ofother islands floating in the night, and from all the great spaces aboutus came the murmur of the sea and the soft breathing of great woods. Theodours of the wilderness--smells of wind and earth, of trees and water,clean, vigorous, and mighty--were the true odours of a virgin worldunspoilt by men, more penetrating and more subtly intoxicating than anyother perfume in the whole world. Oh!--and dangerously strong, too, nodoubt, for some natures!
"Ahhh!" breathed out the clergyman after supper, with an indescribablegesture of satisfaction and relief. "Here there is freedom, and room forbody and mind to turn in. Here one can work and rest and play. Here onecan be alive and absorb something of the earth-forces that never getwithin touching distance in the cities. By George, I shall make apermanent camp here and come when it is time to die!"
The good man was merely giving vent to his delight at being undercanvas. He said the same thing every year, and he said it often. But itmore or less expressed the superficial feelings of us all. And when, alittle later, he turned to compliment his wife on the fried potatoes,and discovered that she was snoring, with her back against a tree, hegrunted with content at the sight and put a ground-sheet over her feet,as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to fall asleepafter dinner, and then moved back to his own corner, smoking his pipewith great satisfaction.
And I, smoking mine too, lay and fought against the most delicioussleep imaginable, while my eyes wandered from the fire to the starspeeping through the branches, and then back again to the group about me.The Rev. Timothy soon let his pipe go out, and succumbed as his wife haddone, for he had worked hard and eaten well. Sangree, also smoking,leaned against a tree with his gaze fixed on the girl, a depth ofyearning in his face that he could not hide, and that really distressedme for him. And Joan herself, with wide staring eyes, alert, full of thenew forces of the place, evidently keyed up by the magic of findingherself among all the things her soul recognised as "home," sat rigid bythe fire, her thoughts roaming through the spaces, the blood stirringabout her heart. She was as unconscious of the Canadian's gaze as shewas that her parents both slept. She looked to me more like a tree, orsomething that had grown out of the island, than a living girl of thecentury; and when I spoke across to her in a whisper and suggested atour of investigation, she started and looked up at me as though sheheard a voice in her dreams.
Sangree leaped up and joined us, and without waking the others we threewent over the ridge of the island and made our way down to the shorebehind. The water lay like a lake before us still coloured by thesunset. The air was keen and scented, wafting the smell of the woodedislands that hung about us in the darkening air. Very small wavestumbled softly on the sand. The sea was sown with stars, and everywherebreathed and pulsed the beauty of the northern summer night. I confess Ispeedily lost consciousness of the human presences beside me, and I havelittle doubt Joan did too. Only Sangree felt otherwise, I suppose, forpresently we heard him sighing; and I can well imagine that he absorbedthe whole wonder and passion of the scene into his aching heart, toswell the pain there that was more searching even than the pain at thesight of such matchless and incomprehensible beauty.
The splash of a fish jumping broke the spell.
"I wish we had the canoe now," remarked Joan; "we could paddle out tothe other islands."
"Of course," I said; "wait here and I'll go across for it," and wasturning to feel my way back through the darkness when she stopped me ina voice that meant what it said.
"No; Mr. Sangree will get it. We will wait here and cooee to guide him."
The Canadian was off in a moment, for she had only to hint of her wishesand he obeyed.
"Keep out from shore in case of rocks," I cried out as he went
, "andturn to the right out of the lagoon. That's the shortest way round bythe map."
My voice travelled across the still waters and woke echoes in thedistant islands that came back to us like people calling out of space.It was only thirty or forty yards over the ridge and down the other sideto the lagoon where the boats lay, but it was a good mile to coast roundthe shore in the dark to where we stood and waited. We heard himstumbling away among the boulders, and then the sounds suddenly ceasedas he topped the ridge and went down past the fire on the other side.
"I didn't want to be left alone with him," the girl said presently in alow voice. "I'm always afraid he's going to say or do something--" Shehesitated a moment, looking quickly over her shoulder towards the ridgewhere he had just disappeared--"something that might lead tounpleasantness."
She stopped abruptly.
"_You_ frightened, Joan!" I exclaimed, with genuine surprise. "This is anew light on your wicked character. I thought the human being who couldfrighten you did not exist." Then I suddenly realised she was talkingseriously--looking to me for help of some kind--and at once I droppedthe teasing attitude.
"He's very far gone, I think, Joan," I added gravely. "You must be kindto him, whatever else you may feel. He's exceedingly fond of you."
"I know, but I can't help it," she whispered, lest her voice shouldcarry in the stillness; "there's something about him that--that makes mefeel creepy and half afraid."
"But, poor man, it's not his fault if he is delicate and sometimes lookslike death," I laughed gently, by way of defending what I felt to be avery innocent member of my sex.
"Oh, but it's not that I mean," she answered quickly; "it's something Ifeel about him, something in his soul, something he hardly knowshimself, but that may come out if we are much together. It draws me, Ifeel, tremendously. It stirs what is wild in me--deep down--oh, verydeep down,--yet at the same time makes me feel afraid."
"I suppose his thoughts are always playing about you," I said, "but he'snice-minded and--"
"Yes, yes," she interrupted impatiently, "I can trust myself absolutelywith him. He's gentle and singularly pure-minded. But there's somethingelse that--" She stopped again sharply to listen. Then she came up closebeside me in the darkness, whispering--
"You know, Mr. Hubbard, sometimes my intuitions warn me a little toostrongly to be ignored. Oh, yes, you needn't tell me again that it'sdifficult to distinguish between fancy and intuition. I know all that.But I also know that there's something deep down in that man's soul thatcalls to something deep down in mine. And at present it frightens me.Because I cannot make out what it is; and I know, I _know_, he'll dosomething some day that--that will shake my life to the very bottom."She laughed a little at the strangeness of her own description.
I turned to look at her more closely, but the darkness was too great toshow her face. There was an intensity, almost of suppressed passion, inher voice that took me completely by surprise.
"Nonsense, Joan," I said, a little severely; "you know him well. He'sbeen with your father for months now."
"But that was in London; and up here it's different--I mean, I feel thatit may be different. Life in a place like this blows away the restraintsof the artificial life at home. I know, oh, I know what I'm saying. Ifeel all untied in a place like this; the rigidity of one's naturebegins to melt and flow. Surely _you_ must understand what I mean!"
"Of course I understand," I replied, yet not wishing to encourage her inher present line of thought, "and it's a grand experience--for a shorttime. But you're overtired to-night, Joan, like the rest of us. A fewdays in this air will set you above all fears of the kind you mention."
Then, after a moment's silence, I added, feeling I should estrange herconfidence altogether if I blundered any more and treated her like achild--
"I think, perhaps, the true explanation is that you pity him for lovingyou, and at the same time you feel the repulsion of the healthy,vigorous animal for what is weak and timid. If he came up boldly andtook you by the throat and shouted that he would force you to lovehim--well, then you would feel no fear at all. You would know exactlyhow to deal with him. Isn't it, perhaps, something of that kind?"
The girl made no reply, and when I took her hand I felt that it trembleda little and was cold.
"It's not his love that I'm afraid of," she said hurriedly, for at thismoment we heard the dip of a paddle in the water, "it's something in hisvery soul that terrifies me in a way I have never been terrifiedbefore,--yet fascinates me. In town I was hardly conscious of hispresence. But the moment we got away from civilisation, it began tocome. He seems so--so _real_ up here. I dread being alone with him. Itmakes me feel that something must burst and tear its way out--that hewould do something--or I should do something--I don't know exactly whatI mean, probably,--but that I should let myself go and scream--"
"Joan!"
"Don't be alarmed," she laughed shortly; "I shan't do anything silly,but I wanted to tell you my feelings in case I needed your help. When Ihave intuitions as strong as this they are never wrong, only I don'tknow yet what it means exactly."
"You must hold out for the month, at any rate," I said in asmatter-of-fact a voice as I could manage, for her manner had somehowchanged my surprise to a subtle sense of alarm. "Sangree only stays themonth, you know. And, anyhow, you are such an odd creature yourself thatyou should feel generously towards other odd creatures," I ended lamely,with a forced laugh.
She gave my hand a sudden pressure. "I'm glad I've told you at anyrate," she said quickly under her breath, for the canoe was now glidingup silently like a ghost to our feet, "and I'm glad you're here, too,"she added as we moved down towards the water to meet it.
I made Sangree change into the bows and got into the steering seatmyself, putting the girl between us so that I could watch them both bykeeping their outlines against the sea and stars. For the intuitions ofcertain folk--women and children usually, I confess--I have always felta great respect that has more often than not been justified byexperience; and now the curious emotion stirred in me by the girl'swords remained somewhat vividly in my consciousness. I explained it insome measure by the fact that the girl, tired out by the fatigue of manydays' travel, had suffered a vigorous reaction of some kind from thestrong, desolate scenery, and further, perhaps, that she had beentreated to my own experience of seeing the members of the party in a newlight--the Canadian, being partly a stranger, more vividly than the restof us. But, at the same time, I felt it was quite possible that she hadsensed some subtle link between his personality and her own, somequality that she had hitherto ignored and that the routine of town lifehad kept buried out of sight. The only thing that seemed difficult toexplain was the fear she had spoken of, and this I hoped the wholesomeeffects of camp-life and exercise would sweep away naturally in thecourse of time.
We made the tour of the island without speaking. It was all toobeautiful for speech. The trees crowded down to the shore to hear uspass. We saw their fine dark heads, bowed low with splendid dignity towatch us, forgetting for a moment that the stars were caught in theneedled network of their hair. Against the sky in the west, where stilllingered the sunset gold, we saw the wild toss of the horizon, shaggywith forest and cliff, gripping the heart like the motive in a symphony,and sending the sense of beauty all a-shiver through the mind--all thesesurrounding islands standing above the water like low clouds, and likethem seeming to post along silently into the engulfing night. We heardthe musical drip-drip of the paddle, and the little wash of our waves onthe shore, and then suddenly we found ourselves at the opening of thelagoon again, having made the complete circuit of our home.
The Reverend Timothy had awakened from sleep and was singing to himself;and the sound of his voice as we glided down the fifty yards of enclosedwater was pleasant to hear and undeniably wholesome. We saw the glow ofthe fire up among the trees on the ridge, and his shadow moving about ashe threw on more wood.
"There you are!" he called aloud. "Good again! Been setting thenight-lines, eh? C
apital! And your mother's still fast asleep, Joan."
His cheery laugh floated across the water; he had not been in the leastdisturbed by our absence, for old campers are not easily alarmed.
"Now, remember," he went on, after we had told our little tale of travelby the fire, and Mrs. Maloney had asked for the fourth time exactlywhere her tent was and whether the door faced east or south, "every onetakes their turn at cooking breakfast, and one of the men is always outat sunrise to catch it first. Hubbard, I'll toss you which you do in themorning and which I do!" He lost the toss. "Then I'll catch it," I said,laughing at his discomfiture, for I knew he loathed stirring porridge."And mind you don't burn it as you did every blessed time last year onthe Volga," I added by way of reminder.
Mrs. Maloney's fifth interruption about the door of her tent, and herfurther pointed observation that it was past nine o'clock, set uslighting lanterns and putting the fire out for safety.
But before we separated for the night the clergyman had a time-honouredlittle ritual of his own to go through that no one had the heart to denyhim. He always did this. It was a relic of his pulpit habits. He glancedbriefly from one to the other of us, his face grave and earnest, hishands lifted to the stars and his eyes all closed and puckered upbeneath a momentary frown. Then he offered up a short, almost inaudibleprayer, thanking Heaven for our safe arrival, begging for good weather,no
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