But the Californian had purposely encumbered himself with this stranger to make it plain that, hover as he might, he waived all claim to her attention. What better could a man do? And now he forbore even to look her way. The abstention was as marked as any look could have been. As they passed, Hugh was silent, but Ramsey spoke, her speech a light blend of response and evasion.
"On the Votaress," she said, "the front of the texas didn't stand out forward of the chimneys, like this."
"Doesn't this make a handsomer boat," the lover asked, "seen either aboard or from the shore?"
Ramsey said yes, she had noticed the improvement from the Memphis wharf-boat. "She was a splendid sight; yes, out in the stream, just before her wheels first stopped. At least she was to any one loving boats and the river."
"Then you haven't changed?" asked Hugh, not for information but in the tone that always meant so much beneath the speech.
Her answer was merely to meet his gaze with a gentle steadfastness, each knowing that the other's mind was overcircling all the years that had divided them. Through those years they had exchanged no spoken or written word. Yet according to Watson true love finds ways, large love large ways, pure love pure ways. Sometimes love's friends really help; help find ways, or keep ways found; even make chutes and cut-offs. Gilmore, Watson, and the Vicksburg merchant happened to be Odd Fellows, and the Gilmores, to whom letter-writing was, next to their profession, their main pleasure, had been a sort of clearing-house for Friendship, Love, and Truth—and especially for social news—to all the Votaress's old coterie; Hugh, the pairs of Milliken's Bend, Vicksburg, and Carthage, the boat's family, Phyllis, Madame Hayle, even old Joy—with madame for amanuensis—and Ramsey herself. She and Hugh, had followed every step in each other's course, upheld by a simplicity of faith in friendship, love, and truth, which hardly needed to ask the one question abundantly answered by this steadfastness of eye.
Now she looked away to the moon's path on the river, and the question of change came back from her: "Have you?"
"Only to grow."
"You have grown," she said, "every way."
"And you," he replied, "every beautiful way. I have just said so to your father."