No one has noticed—to the best of my knowledge—what a comfort there is, in the pattering of feet, when they keep time, and answer well to one another. Not as a single pair, I mean, each coming after the other with a gap; but as a pair of a pair-going feet, toe and heel exactly to one another, with no more space crosswise between them, than the other foot requires to come up, and fill the gap. And when this is done upon a firm gray sand, with just enough spring to make it beautiful to walk, and just enough yield to take a light impression, how can the most scientific human body, with a fair human body at the side of it, continue to lament that it is not quadruped?
When we came to the rocks, it was even better. For here, there was such a fine slippery spread of the carpet of the sea, and so many green fringes, covering traps where a little foot might sink, and perhaps get sprained, or at any rate get soaked, that at every few yards there was need of a hand, or sometimes of two, for discretion of step. And at every such aid, there was a smile to pay; not to mention the downcast of eyes sometimes, and sometimes their uplifting with a soft, sweet light, and the fluttering of lashes in the fresh wind from the sea, and the murmuring of lips, more pink and melodious than any clear Pacific shell. And when the brisk freedom of the salt air shed the dark clusters of her hair, upon her face and neck, veiling the gentle blush and the shy damask, my very best manners, and most deep responsibility, struggled in vain to prevent me from saying—"You are the very image of a beautiful moss-rose."
She was not at all offended, but looked calmly at me; and answered, to my horror—"What a beautiful idea! I shall tell Mamma, that you said that."
"Oh, please don't do anything of the sort," I exclaimed; "she would be sure,—or at least she might—I cannot exactly make you understand. But she might not be altogether pleased, you know."
"Well, I don't see why. She is very fond of poetry. But if she would not like it, you should not have said it. But don't be so distressed. I will promise not to tell her; because I am sure that you meant no harm. Oh, here is my first shrimping-pool!"
"I will sooner bite my tongue out," thought I to myself, as in humble confusion I unbound the nets—"than utter another syllable of admiration. What a fool I am! But who could help it?"
This put me on my very best behaviour, for a while; and even when she slipped upon an oozy slab, and nearly fell into a pool a foot deep, I did not hold her up, any more than I could help. And after that, being under orders not to use my net (which I began with, upside down) until I knew something about it; but rather to watch how she managed, and to learn to do the like,—not an inch of advantage did I try to take, but with scrupulous honour held my net betwixt us, and smiled as if my face was as stiff as were my hands.
"I am afraid you don't enjoy this work;" she said.
"I am afraid of enjoying it too much;" said I.