“My, what a pretty speech,” replied Nan. “You’ll soon be as gallant as Cousin Martin Boyd, if you keep on,” and with a little mocking smile she ran to her tent. Her eyes were like stars. He did not forget. She almost sang the words. Had not Siegfried been given a magic potion, and did he not remember at last? “He called me Brunhilde,” she said over and over to herself, “and so he does remember; he does not think I am a child as he pretended. It was only pretense, I am sure.” So little food did it take to nourish her fancies.
CHAPTER XVII
NAN HEARS
In a day or two Dr. Paul’s holiday was over, but before he left Nan overheard a conversation between him, her aunt and her mother. She had not meant to listen, but it seemed forced upon her, for she was in her own tent dressing and the three were sitting on the porch of Mrs. Corner’s cabin just next. The others were off on the lake and Nan had remained behind to attend to some little matters.
“Marc will come to pay his respects before he leaves,” she heard Dr. Paul say. “He has a very friendly feeling for you all, but of course these are his special chums and they are bound to absorb him. I think he will be over to-morrow as they all go off the next day.” So soon! So soon! The end was nearing, Nan realized.
“I must confess to being disappointed in Mr. Wells,” said Miss Helen. “I fancy he is a less serious young man than we imagined, a butterfly sort of person who likes to be amused, enjoys new sensations, is rather vain, something of a poseur, and who is rather selfish and worldly.”
“He has that side to his nature, I admit,” agreed Dr. Paul, “though at times he is serious and one would think he had high standards. When I first knew him in Munich he seemed as much in earnest as any one I ever knew.”
“Then he is blown about by circumstances,” Mrs. Corner remarked; “the kind of person who is what influence makes him, not a very strong character.”
“He is immensely popular, though, warm-hearted and generous with his friends, and has a way with him, a way of adapting himself to the company he is in, and that is a great gift, it seems to me.”
“It is if one is sincerely interested in the things he appears to be,” rejoined Miss Helen, “but a person can make a great pretense of being this or that, a Bohemian to-day, a religious to-morrow, a lover of high things at one time, hand in hand with frivolity at another. Is he like that?”