"Mon armant m'aime—un peu—beaucoup—passionnément—pas du tout!" laughed Mrs. Lewis, seeing Miss Hamilton counting to herself. "You must only try that oracle in flower petals, my dear. To count it in salt water signifies tears."
Sometimes they floated out in the harbor, and felt the fresh breath of the ocean, while the treacherous waters lapped, and fawned, and gurgled about the bows of their boat, and overhead the sky was thick with stars.
All this was not with the ladies mere idle pleasure, but was as seriously planned as it was heartily enjoyed. They had resolved that whatever exciting discussions and differences the gentlemen should have abroad, at home they should find nothing but peace. Politics were banished; and they sometimes even restrained their impatience to hear the war-news when they suspected that the relation was likely to produce any unpleasant entanglement. Without being religious, they yet had some perception of a pathway lying changeless and peaceful, far above parties and nationalities, and they felt that woman's proper place is there.
The gentlemen soon learned to submit to a restraint which they would never have imposed on themselves. When they stepped out at the little station near their cottage, their discussions were at an end.
"There is our flag of truce," Mr. Lewis would say, pointing to the thread of smoke that showed, over the trees, Mrs. James's kitchen-fire just kindled to prepare their dinner. "Understand, Mr. Southard, I oppose both you and Louis tooth and nail, and I'd like to fight it out with you now. But our time is up; and there are three little girls behind the trees there who would break their hearts if we should go home with cross faces. Let's shake hands till next time."
The only news of which they could all speak fearlessly and with pleasure was what concerned Mr. Granger's cousin. Scarcely a week passed that did not bring some laudation of him. He was one of those men who, without effort, are always conspicuous wherever they go. Opportunities that others sought with pain presented themselves unsought to him; and he had a gallant, dashing, and, withal, a lordly way that embellished even brilliant exploits.
"Upon my word," his cousin said, "at this rate it is not impossible that he may be made lieutenant-general."
Mr. Southard was, perhaps, the hardest to keep within bounds, probably because he felt himself religiously obliged to "cry aloud and spare not." But even he was subdued after a while. He seemed indeed too dependent on the ladies to willingly offend them. All the time he was not in the city he spent in their company, unbending as much as was possible to him, that his presence might not be a restraint on their pleasures. He brought his books to the parlor, and had his special corner there, the "lion's den," he called it, with a slight touch of reproach in his voice, when he saw how the others kept away from its vicinity. He rendered himself agreeable in many ways. He read aloud to them, he played and sang for them, sometimes he took the brush from Miss Hamilton's hand, and helped her with a bolder line than she could achieve.
"It takes a strong hand to give a fine stroke," she said. "Where I would be delicate, I am only soft." "Let me finish this for you, since the stippling is done," he said, as she paused to contemplate a major-general reposing pacifically on her easel. "I will not touch the face. Say what you will, there is a softness and richness in your shading which I can never attain. I may have a fine or bold touch, but it is hard. Shall I deepen this background a little to throw the figure out? And may I intensify his shoulder-straps?"