Edith was well pleased with the results of the first lesson. She had felt some misgivings, for Cosden was the most masterful man she had ever met. If this masterfulness could not be broken down, then her plans could not be carried out; but she recalled the fact that Henry Thatcher, so pliable in his wife's hands, was spoken of as dictatorial and self-confident in his business relations. If this was true of Thatcher, it might be equally true of Cosden, and the experiment was well worth trying. In the hour just past Edith had proved her sagacity to herself. Cosden explained his present docility by saying that he always obeyed his doctor's orders; Edith had discovered in that brief time two facts unknown even to himself: that his confidence came only from a knowledge of his own strength, that in treading new and unknown paths he was not only willing to be led but accepted guidance gratefully.
After this important discovery, she intuitively came to a better understanding of the man. "Men know more than they understand, and women understand more than they know," some one has tritely said. Edith Stevens was a woman, and understanding was enough; she did not crave to know. When Cosden stated so flatly, "I always get what I go after," she had thought him a tactless braggart, who deserved to be shown his place; now, with this new light thrown upon his character, she understood his remark quite differently. The man knew but one way to accomplish his purpose, and that was to go directly at it, head-on, overpowering opposition by the force of his momentum. In his beginnings, Edith surmised, he had not always felt so confident, and these bold assertions were made partly to give himself additional courage and partly to conceal from the world the existence of any doubt as to his ultimate success. What had been first a policy became a habit, and if Edith were correct in her analysis Cosden was at the present moment repeating his early experiences.
Time in Bermuda cannot be figured by calendar days. Whether this is due to the evenness and perfection of the temperature, which so satisfies the physical demands as to eliminate all desire for change, or to the natural beauty which exorcises those sordid demands life elsewhere compels, it would be difficult to determine; but the fact remains that except for the sailing of the little steamers a week is like a long, delicious day, with the nights a passing incident,—a curtain drawn for a moment to deprive the vision of its wondrous panorama, lest the spirit become satiated and thus less appreciative.
More than a fortnight had passed since Billy Huntington's spectacular departure, yet no one suggested that vacation days were drawing to an end. It was Thatcher who found least to occupy him, yet even he had fallen beneath the spell and was content to drift. By this time Marian was fully convinced that a match between Hamlen and Merry was foreordained, and that her mission was to drag him forth from his exile; but she was not satisfied with her progress in either one of her self-imposed labors. Hamlen was a changed man since the new companionship came into his life, but whenever he was brought up against the question of leaving his retreat the old terror seized him, and he slipped back behind his defenses.
"I wish I might," said he to her one day, "believe me, I wish I might; but you don't know what you ask. The bitterness of my attitude toward the world has become an abnormal condition which you could not be expected to understand. Your visit here has tempered it—I know now that there are exceptions; but don't urge me against my better judgment. Let me remember this visit in all its happiness; perhaps its memory will enable me later to do as you suggest."
Huntington was no more successful in his efforts. His classmate listened to him patiently and showed a full appreciation of the friendly suggestions; but no promise could be exacted, and Hamlen seemed stronger than the combined forces against him. Yet, in spite of disappointments, Huntington was optimistic.
"We may not be able to take him with us," he admitted to Marian, "but after we are gone he will find this place unendurable. Time will be our ally."
Cosden's sudden intimacy with Edith Stevens mystified Huntington, but he welcomed it as a temporary respite. So long as Cosden was making no exertion to advance his interests with Merry, no more active effort could be expected from his friend. He asked no questions and Cosden vouchsafed no information, which on both sides marked a change in the relations of the two men.
Edith was equally mysterious with Marian, smiling sagely when her friend tried to draw her out; but she admitted or denied nothing. She faithfully performed her self-assumed duties, and Cosden lived up to his agreement to take the medicine his doctor prescribed. By this time he was able to pull through on the one-step and the canter waltz, but his great success was the fox-trot. This, he discovered without assistance, is danced in as many ways as there are individual dancers, so he developed an original "series" which gave him supreme satisfaction, since as he explained, no one could prove whether he or his partner was at fault when a mistake was made. Edith had long since given up all hope of having him follow the music, but he had actually learned the steps, and his persistency in pursuing with grim relentlessness what she knew to be an irksome duty could but win her respect.