He laughed shortly, staring down upon her. "Not I, maiden. As to fear, I am more hungered than fearful, though I have felt fear often in my time."
As Ruth gave his words to the others and my father led him to the cabin, I turned over this speech in my mind and set him down, boylike, as a coward. Therein I made a grave mistake, as I found out ere long.
It was but natural that the stranger should make great talk among us all, and when he returned on deck, his tall figure wrapped in a spare plaid of Tam Graham's, we gazed at him ever more eagerly. But he gave us little heed, going forward into the bow and sitting there upon a coil of rope, gazing out into the west as if the ship sped not fast enough for him. After a little, Ruth and I, being the only ones aboard who could speak French, save the sailors, came to him. He did not repel us—nay, there was something about the man that drew us both, and Ruth more than me; he seemed like one who had seen many strange things, and the secret that shone forth from his deep eyes half frightened while it attracted me. As for Ruth, she felt sorry for him in his loneliness and wished to talk her French also, for she ever held that my accent was most vile.
He gave us a kindlier welcome than I had looked for, and when he smiled all his sternness vanished and I knew on the instant that here was a man who had suffered and loved greatly, and who knew how to win love from other men. There was about him something of that same quality which Ruth so greatly possessed, the quality of drawing out the faith of others, of quiet trust and confidence. I was not to know for many long weeks what it really meant to love and be loved by him, but, as I perched on the anchor chains and stared frankly at him, I thought that it must indeed be hard to tell this man a lie.
"If you would speak English," he smiled in the southland speech, "I can converse well in that."
"Nay," and Ruth's laugh rippled out, "French is mine own mother-tongue, and seldom do I get a chance to use it."
"Are you French, then? With your name?" he asked quickly. Now, though I knew full well that Ruth had come there with no such thought, she poured out the tale of her coming to us over the moors, as she had heard it often from my mother and me. This surprised me all the more because as a rule she made light of it and claimed Ayrby for home, and my people for her people.
The old stranger listened to all her story, but he remained silent and fell to staring over the bowsprit again as if he had not heard. But I who watched him saw him try to speak, as it were, then stop suddenly and gulp in his throat.
"It is a strange tale," he replied after a little, "and I thank you for the telling, maiden. Know you whither we are bound?"
"For the New York colony," I replied, somewhat downcast that he had not trusted us in turn with his own tale. He must have read the thought in my eyes, for he smiled sadly and I felt emboldened to question him. "What is that mark on your throat?" I continued, gazing at the tattooed animal. "Is that some strange beast?"