Are you serious? she asked, as though the idea amused her.
Of course, he replied, pleasantly.
Is it true that you came here because he came? she inquired, with faint sarcasm in her eyes.
Yes, he answered, with perfect good-nature. You see hes my own kin; you see Im the old-fashioned sort a perfect fool, Mrs. Sprowl.
There was a silence; he unwound the glistening leader; she flicked at shadows with her dog-whip; the Great Danes yawned and laid their heavy heads against her knees.
Then you are a fool, she concluded, serenely.
He was young enough to redden.
Three years ago she had thought it time to marry somebody, if she ever intended to marry at all; so she threw over half a dozen young fellows like Coursay, and married Sprowl. For two years her beauty, audacity, and imprudence kept a metropolis and two capitals in food for scandal. And now for a year gossip was coupling her name with Coursays.
I warned you at Palm Beach that Id stop this, said Lansing, looking directly into her eyes. You see, I know his mother.
Stop what? she asked, coolly.
He went on: Jack is a curiously decent boy; he views his danger without panic, but with considerable surprise. But nobody can tell what he may do. As for me, Im indifferent, liberal, and reasonable in my views of other peoples conduct. But Jack is not one of those other people, you see.
And I am? she suggested, serenely.
Exactly; Im not your keeper.
So you confine your attention to Jack and the Decalogue?
As for the Commandments, observed Lansing, any ass can shatter them with his hind heels, so why should he? If he must be an ass, let him be an original ass not a cur.
A cur, repeated Agatha Sprowl, unsteadily.
An affaire de cœur with a married woman is an affair do cur, said Lansing, calmly Gallicize it as you wish, make it smart and fashionable as you can. I told you I was old-fashioned And I mean it, madam.
The leader had eluded him; he uncoiled it again; she mechanically took it between her delicate fingers and held it steady while he measured and shortened it by six inches.
Do you think, she said, between her teeth, that it is your mission to padlock me to that in there?
Lansing turned, following her eyes. She was looking at her husband.
No, replied Lansing, serenely; but I shall see that you dont transfer the padlock to that, out there glancing at Coursay on the lawn.
Try it, she breathed, and let go of the leader, which flew up in silvery crinkles, the cast of brightly colored flies dancing in the sunshine.
Oh, let him alone, said Lansing, wearily; all the men in Manhattan are drivelling about you. Let him go; hes a sorry trophy and theres no natural treachery in him; its not in our blood; its too cheap for us, and we cant help saying so when were in our right minds.
There was a little color left in her face when she stood up, her hands resting on the spiked collars of her dogs. The trouble with you, she said, smiling adorably, is your innate delicacy.
I know I am brutal, he said, grimly; let him alone.
She gave him a pretty salutation, crossed the lawn, passed her husband, who had just ridden up on a powerful sorrel, and called brightly to Coursay: Take me fishing, Jack, or Ill yawn my head off my shoulders.
Before Lansing could recover his wits the audacious beauty had stepped into the canoe at the edge of the lawn, and young Coursay, eager and radiant, gave a flourish to his paddle, and drove it into the glittering water.
If Sprowl found anything disturbing to his peace of mind in the proceeding, he did not betray it. He sat hunched up on his big sorrel, eyes fixed on the distant clearing, where the white gable-end of OHaras house rose among the trees.
Suddenly he wheeled his mount and galloped off up the river road; the sun glowed on his broad back, and struck fire on his spurs, then horse and rider were gone into the green shadows of the woods.
To play spy was not included in Lansings duties as he understood them. He gave one disgusted glance after the canoe, shrugged, set fire to the tobacco in his pipe, and started slowly along the river towards OHaras with a vague idea of lending counsel, aid, and countenance to his president during the expected interview with Munn.
At the turn of the road he met Major Brent and old Peter, the head-keeper. The latter stood polishing the barrels of his shot-gun with a red bandanna; the Major was fuming and wagging his head.
Doctor! he called out, when Lansing appeared; Peter says they raised the devil down at OHaras last night! This cant go on, dye see! No, by Heaven!
What were they doing, Peter? asked Lansing, coming up to where the old man stood.
Them Shinin Banders? Waal, sir, they was kinder rigged out in white night-gounds robes o Jordan they call em an they had rubbed some kind o shiny stuff like matches all over these there night-gounds, an then they sang a spell, an then they all sot down on the edge o the river.
Is that all? asked Lansing, laughing.
Wait! growled the Major.
Waal, continued old Peter, the shinin stuff on them night-gounds was that bright that I seen the fishes swimmin round kinder dazed like. Gosh! sez I to mself, its like a Jack a-drawnin them trout yaasr. So I hollers out, Here! You Shinin Band folk, you air a-drawin the trout. Quit it! sez I, hash an pert-like. Then that there Munn, the Prophet, he up an hollers, Hark how the heathen rage! he hollers. An with that, blamed if he didnt sling a big net into the river, an all them Shinin Banders ketched holt an they drawed it clean up-stream. Quit that! I hollers, its agin the game laws! But the Prophet he hollers back, Hark how the heathen rage! Then they drawed that there net out, an it were full o trout, big an little
Great Heaven! roared the Major, black in the face.
I think, said Lansing, quietly, that Ill walk down to OHaras and reason with our friend Munn. Sprowl may want a man to help him in this matter.
III
When Sprowl galloped his sorrel mare across the bridge and up to the OHara house, he saw a man and a young girl seated on the grass of the river-bank, under the shade of an enormous elm.
Sprowl dismounted heavily, and led his horse towards the couple under the elm. He recognized Munn in the thin, long-haired, full-bearded man who rose to face him; and he dropped the bridle from his hand, freeing the sorrel mare.
The two men regarded each other in silence; the mare strayed leisurely up-stream, cropping the fresh grass; the young girl turned her head towards Sprowl with a curious movement, as though listening, rather than looking.
Mr. Munn, I believe, said Sprowl, in a low voice.
The Reverend Amasa Munn, corrected the Prophet, quietly. You are Peyster Sprowl.
Sprowl turned and looked full at the girl on the grass. The shadow of her big straw hat fell across her eyes; she faced him intently.
Sprowl glanced at his mare, whistled, and turned squarely on his heel, walking slowly along the river-bank. The sorrel followed like a dog; presently Munn stood up and deliberately stalked off after Sprowl, rejoining that gentleman a few rods down the river-bank.