“Martin,” said Margery, not in the least surprised that she should meet the young guide within the next three minutes, “do you know of some really nice secluded spot where I can sit and read, and not be bothered? I don’t mean that place where you hung the hammock. I don’t want to go there again.”
Martin was pale, and his voice trembled as he spoke. “Miss Dearborn,” said he, “I think it is a wicked and a burning shame that you should be forced to look for a hiding-place where you may hope to rest undisturbed if that scoundrel in the boat out there should happen to fancy to come ashore. But you needn’t do it. There is no necessity for it. Go where you please, sit where you please, and do what you please, and I will see to it that you are not disturbed.”
“Oh, no, no!” exclaimed Margery. “That would never do. I know very well that you could keep him away from me, and I am quite sure that you would be glad to do it, but there mustn’t be anything of that kind. He is Miss Raybold’s brother and—and in a way one of our camping party, and I don’t want any disturbances or quarrels.”
Martin’s breast heaved, and he breathed heavily. “I have no doubt you are right,” he said—“of course you are. But I can tell you this: if I see that fellow troubling you again I’ll kill him, or—”
“Martin! Martin!” exclaimed Margery. “What do you mean? What makes you talk in this way?”
“What makes me?” he exclaimed, as if it were impossible to restrain his words. “My heart makes me, my soul makes me. I—”
“Your heart? Your soul?” interrupted Margery. “I don’t understand.”
For a moment he looked at the astonished girl in silence, and then he said: “Miss Dearborn, it’s of no use for me to try to hide what I feel. If I hadn’t got so angry I might have been able to keep quiet, but I can’t do it now. If that man thinks he loves you, his love is like a grain of sand compared to mine.”
“Yours?” cried Margery.
“Yes,” said Martin, his face pallid and his eyes sparkling, “mine. You may think it is an insult for me to talk this way, but love is love, and it will spring up where it pleases; and besides, I am not the common sort of a fellow you may think I am. After saying what I have said, I am bound to say more. I belong to a good family, and am college bred. I am poor, and I love nature. I am working to make money to travel and become a naturalist. I prefer this sort of work because it takes me into the heart of nature. I am not ashamed of what I am, I am not ashamed of my work, and my object in life is a nobler one, I think, than the practice of the law, or a great many other things like it.”