Toward the end of that day it became evident, in the west, that preparations were going on for an American sunset. Preliminary colors, chiefly gold and crimson, crept swiftly across the sky. These colors, more dazzling as the sun approached the water, were caught and tossed about upon the surface of the sea until all the universe seemed ablaze.
Of this gorgeous spectacle Elinor Marshall, in a sheltered corner of the deck, was an appreciative witness.
Pats, in his mercy, had decided to allow the lady a respite from his society, at least during a portion of the afternoon. The lady, however, was so much more interesting than anything else aboard that he finally ignored his better judgment. 37And now, leaning against the rail in front of her, he found the sunset duller, more monotonous and commonplace than the human combination in the steamer-chair. She, however, her head thrown back, with half-closed eyes, seemed fascinated by the glories in the west, and almost unconscious of his presence. As too much staring might cause annoyance, he did most of it on the sly. And the opportunity was good. As a mystery, she proved an absorbing study: an irresistible blending of contradictions, of sympathy and reserve, of sadness–and of wit–of a character and temperament not half-divulged. Whenever their eyes met, he felt a mild commotion, a curious, unfamiliar excitement,–something that made him less at ease. For it invariably brought the keenest anxiety as to her good opinion. He also experienced a consciousness of guilt; why, he knew not, unless from the expression of her eyes. They seemed to be reading his thoughts, and to be a trifle saddened by the result. That, in itself, was disconcerting.
He began to see why those other fellows were in love with her. Although fireproof himself, he understood, now that he knew her better, the nature of the conflagration that devoured the men in Boston.
38In her sensitive face, in her reserve, and in her sometimes melancholy air, he saw traces of inward struggles between a passionate, impulsive, pleasure-loving nature and standards of virtue unattainably high. And when he remembered that she was doomed to the seclusion of a convent, that this life, with every promise of being exceptionally rich and full, was to be crushed, deadened and forever lost to the outer human world, his resentment became difficult to suppress. He wondered, in a hot, disjointed way, if there was no possibility of a rescue.
Awakening from a revery, she caught him in the act, regarding her with earnest eyes, and with a frown. He also came back to earth–or to the boat–suddenly, and he observed a slight movement of her eyebrows as in surprise or disapproval. With a guilty air, he looked away, and she wondered if the warmer color in his mahogany cheeks came entirely from the sunset. After an awkward silence, he said.
“I beg your pardon for staring at you. You are so very contradictory, and in so many ways, that I took the liberty of guessing at your real character; whether after all you are unpleasantly perfect, or whether it is merely your luck to possess an awe-inspiring exterior.”
39She was unable to repress a laugh. “And what have you decided?”
“I have not decided; that is, not finally. I keep arriving at new conclusions. My first impression was that you were a person of frigid altitudes,–severe, exacting, and abnormally superior. Then, later, I have thought you warm-hearted–even impulsive: that your indifference is not always real. But of that, I am not sure. Still, I believe you possess a lower and a better nature.”
“You seem to have made wonderful discoveries in a very few hours.”