V
Long after he had gone she sat there until it was well into the evening, until the stars began to blink and nod and wrap themselves in the great cloak of the night, as they kept a silent vigil over the subdued silence which had settled down upon the vast earth and herself.
The longer she sat and considered, the more melancholy did she become. Stephen was displeased with her conduct and made no effort to conceal it, inflicting only the greater wound by his ambiguous and incisive remarks. His apparent unconcern and indifference of manner frightened her, and she saw, or she thought she saw a sudden deprivation of that esteem with which she was vain enough to presuppose he was wont to regard her. And yet he was mistaken, greatly mistaken. Furthermore, he was unfair to himself and unjust to her in the misinterpretation of her behavior. His displeasure pained her beyond endurance.
In her relations with John Anderson, she had been genuinely sincere both with herself and with Stephen. The latter had asked her to help him; and this she was trying to do in her own way. That there was something suspicious about Anderson, she knew; but whether the cause lay in his manner of action or in the possession of documentary evidence, she could not so much as conjecture. What more apt method could be employed than to associate with him in the hope that at some time or other important information might be imparted to her? She did not intend to play the part of the spy; still if that was the rôle in which she hoped to find Anderson, she was ready to assume a similar rôle for the very purpose of outwitting him and defeating him on his own ground. If Stephen would only trust her. Oh, dear! And she wrung her hands in abject despair.
Little by little her experiences of the summer just past came before her with a vividness which her experience with Stephen served only to intensify. First, there was the night of the Governor's Ball. He had come into her life there, filling a vacancy not realized before. Hitherto, she had been quite content in the company of almost any one, and especially with those of the sterner sex. But with the advent of this dashing young officer she began to experience a set of new sensations. The incompleteness of her life was brought before her.
He seemed to perfect her being, sharing her pleasures, lessening her woes, consoling her heart. Still, there was one office that he had failed to perform; he was not obsequious. Not that he was ever wanting in attention and deferential courtesy, or that he ever failed to betray a warmth of feeling or a generous devotion; but his manner was prosaic, thoroughly practical both in action and in expression. He spoke his thoughts directly and forcibly. He was never enthusiastic, never demonstrative, never warm or impulsive, but definite, well-ordered, positive. It was quite true that he was capable of bestowing service to the point of heroism when the occasion required, but such a quality was not spontaneous, because his heart, while intensely sympathetic, appeared cold and absolutely opposed to any sort of outburst. He was too prudent, too wise, too thoughtful, it seemed, acting only when sure of his ground, turning aside from all obstacles liable to irritate or confuse him.
Then John Anderson came and initiated her into a newer world. He appeared to worship her, and tried to make her feel his devotion in his every act. He was gallant, dignified, charming, lavishing attention upon her to the point of prodigality. He said things which were pleasant to hear, and equally as pleasant to remember. What girl would not be attracted by such engaging personal qualities; but Marjorie decided that he was too much of the Prince Charming whose gentle arts proved to be his sole weapons for the major encounters of life.
Hence she was not fascinated by his soft accomplishments. He interested her, but she readily perceived that there was not in him that real depth which she had found in Stephen. True, he made her feel more like a superior being than as a mere equal; he yielded ever to her slightest whim, and did not discomfort her with weighty arguments. But her acumen was such that she was enabled to penetrate the gloss and appraise the man at his true value. The years spent at her mother's knee, the numberless hours in her father's shop where she came in contact with many men, her own temperament, prudent by nature, enabled her to perceive at a glance the contrast between a man of great and noble heart clothed in severe garments, and the charlatan garbed in the bright finery of festal dress.
And now the boomerang against which she was defending herself struck her from a most unexpected angle. That Stephen should misunderstand her motives was preposterous; yet there was no other inference to be drawn from the tone of his conversation during the few distressful minutes of his last visit. In all probability, he had gone away laboring under the hateful impression that she was untrue, that she had permitted her heart to be taken captive by the first knight errant who had entered the lists. And what was more, the subject would never again be alluded to. He had promised that; and she knew that he was absolute in his determinations. His groundless displeasure disconcerted her greatly.
Whether it became her to take the initiative in the healing of the breach which she felt growing wide between them, or simply to await the development of the course of action she had chosen to pursue, now became a problem to her perplexed mind. So much depended upon the view he would take of the whole situation that it was necessary for him to understand from the very beginning. She would write him. But, no! That might be premature. She would wait and tell him, so great was her assurance that all would be well. She would tell him of her great and impassionate desire to be of assistance to him; she would put into words her analysis of this man's character, this man about whom he himself had first cast the veil of suspicion; she would relate her experience with him. She smiled to herself as she contemplated how pleased he would be once the frown of bewilderment had disappeared from his countenance.
"Marjorie! Dost know the hour is late?"
"Yes, Mother! I am coming directly."
It was late, though she scarce knew it. Gathering her things, she brought the chairs into the house.