At this point Eyllen's father began to speak of other things, and the irrepressible youngster subsided; while Eyllen and her aunt looked modestly down upon the plates before them.
Two weeks passed. The ship which brought the sick man and his friend had departed, leaving them behind. None were sad at its going. Eyllen's father was rapidly improving, and gradually grew to feel that life was, after all, worth having. To the younger man, each hour in the presence of Eyllen seemed brighter even than the one before it, and a longing for many of the same in the future took possession of him. There was no real enjoyment out of her sight. His former existence looked to him a blank. He could not go back to it. He could not leave this green island, the clear mountain air made salt by great encircling waters and scented by spring blossoms. There were no fish like those in these waters, and no winds so free as the ones playing over the crests of Progromni and Shishaldin. Finally, nowhere in the whole world was an equal to Eyllen among women.
This last consideration settled everything. He was determined to win her in marriage if possible, but her father no longer needed attention, and he bethought himself to set to work at something by which to earn money. More fishermen were in demand at this time in the settlement to supply the constantly arriving ships with fresh fish, and he devoted himself temporarily to this labor.
In her turn Eyllen was interested in Shismakoff, but she longed to disclose her secret to her father, who, she felt confident, could not refrain from sharing it with his friend. To this she could not yet consent. She had suddenly grown wise with a wisdom not before exhibited. If the young man loved her as she felt that he did, might not the knowledge of her secret urge him to increase his attention? In all probability it would, and she heartily repudiated this idea.
Of all things in the world, to be loved for her gold-bearing ledges would be the worst of misfortunes, she reflected, and this feeling, growing upon her, prevented her day after day from confiding in her father. When he had recovered his strength sufficiently to walk among the hills (she told herself) then she would inform him of her good fortune; and even then he must be pledged to keep his own counsel.
At last the time came; the girl invited her father to walk with her upon the hills to gather wild flowers.
"We will go first into the valley by way of the trail, Father, and then come home another way. There are many beautiful blossoms and mosses, and we will take our tin cup and lunch along with us," said Eyllen brightly as she made ready for the tramp.
"Anywhere you say, Eyllen, only let it not be too far for my feet to travel," replied the man indulgently, as he watched her, well pleased with the grace of her movements.
"When we are tired we will sit and rest in the sunshine. See! Here is buttermilk the priest's housekeeper has sent you. I will carry a bottleful to refresh you when thirsty."
They then trudged off among the hills. A few short walks Michaelovitz had already taken with his friend and good supporter at his arm, but who was today away in his boat on the water, and he now leaned upon the stock he carried in his right hand.