Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 20 (26 page)

 
          
“I
shall be very proud to see it drawn, and to read the poem if it is as sweet as
this. I think I like your songs better than Shakespeare’s.”

 
          
“What
a compliment! It is
I
who am
proud now. How beautiful it is up here; one feels like a bird on this airy
perch. Tell me what those places are that look so like celestial cities in this
magical light?”

 
          
Willingly
she obeyed, and standing at her side he listened, feeling the old enchantment
creep over him as he watched the girl, who seemed to glow and brighten like a
flower at the coming of the sun. Nor did the charm lie in her beauty alone;
language, mien, and manner betrayed the native refinement which comes from
birth and breeding, and, despite her simple dress, her frank wavs, and the
mystery that surrounded her, Southesk felt that this lighthouse-keeper’s
daughter was a gentlewoman, and every moment grew more interested in her.

 
          
Presently
he professed a desire to sketch a picturesque promontory not far distant; and,
seated on the step of the narrow door, he drew' industriously, glancing up now
and then at Ariel, who leaned on the balustrade turning the pages of her book
with her loveliest expression, as she read a line here and there, sung snatches
ot the airs she loved so well, and paused to talk, for her companion wasted
little time in silence. Place, hour, and society suited him to a charm, and he
luxuriated in the romance and the freedom, both being much enhanced by the
strong contrast between this hour and those he had been spending among the
frivolous crowds at the great hotel. He took no thought for the future but
heartily enjoyed the present, and was in his gayest, most engaging mood as he
feasted his eyes on the beauty all about him while endeavoring to copy the
graceful figure and spirited face before him.

 
          
Quite
unconscious of his purpose she pored over the book, and presently exclaimed, as
she opened on a fine illustration of the Tempest —

 
          
“Here
we all are! Prospero is not unlike my father, but Ferdinand is much plainer
than you. Here’s Ariel swinging in a vine, as I’ve often done, and Caliban
watching her as Stern watches me. He is horrible here, however, and my Caliban
has a fine face, if one can get a sight of it when he is in good humor.”

 
          
“You
mean the deformed man who glowered at me as I landed? I want much to know who
he is, but I dare not ask, lest I get another lesson in good manners,” said
Southesk, with an air of timidity belied by his bold, bright eyes.

 
          
“I’ll
tell you without asking. He is the lighthouse-keeper, for my father only helps
him a little, because he likes the wild life. People call him the master, as he
goes to the mainland for all we need instead of Stern, who hates to be seen,
poor soul.”

 
          
“Thank
you,” returned Southesk, longing to ask more questions, and on the alert for
any hint that might enlighten him regarding this peculiar pair.

 
          
Ariel
went back to her book, smiling to herself, as she said, after a long look at
one figure in the pictured group —

 
          
“This
Miranda is very charming, but not so queenlv as yours.”

           
“Mine!” ejaculated Southesk, with
as much amusement as surprise. “How do you know I have one?”

           
“She came here to look for you,”
stealing a glance at him from under her long lashes.

 
          
“The
deuce, she did! When — how? Fell me about it, for, upon my honor, I don’t know
who you mean,” and Southesk put down his pencil to listen.

 
          
“Yesterday
a boatman rowed a lady down here, and though the steep path and the ladder
rather daunted her at first, she climbed up, and asked to see the lighthouse.
Stern showed it, but she was not soon satisfied, and peered about as if bent on
searching every corner. She asked many questions, and examined the book for
visitors’ names, which hangs below. Yours was not there, but she seemed to
suspect that you had been here, and Stern told her that it was so. It was not
like him, but he was unusually gracious, though he said nothing about father
and
myself
, and when she had roamed up and dow n for a
long time, the lady went away.”

 
          
“Was
she tall and dark, w ith fine eves and a proud air?” asked Southesk, with a
frown.

 
          
“Yes;
but I thought she could be very sweet and gentle when she chose, she changed so
as she spoke of you.”

 
          
“Did
she see you, Ariel?”

 
          
“No;
I ran away and hid, as I always do when strangers come; but I saw her, and
longed to know her name, for she would not give it, so I called her
your
Miranda.”

 
          
“Not
she! Her name is Helen Lawrence, and I wish she was — ” He checked himself,
looking much annoyed, yet ashamed of his petulant tone, and added, with a
somewhat disdainful smile — “less inquisitive. She must have come while I was
in the city searching for your book, but she never breathed a word of it to me.
I shall feel like a fly in a cobweb if she keeps such close watch over me.”

 
          
“Why
did she think you had been here? Did you tell her?” asked Ariel, looking as if
she quite understood Miss Lawrence’s motive in coming, and rather enjoyed her
disappointment.

 
          
“That
puppy, Dr. Have, who dressed my arm, and found your handkerchief on it, made a
story out of nothing, and set the gossips chattering. The w omen over yonder
have nothing else to do, so a fine romance w as built up, founded on the
wounded arm, the little handkerchief, and the pretty chain, of which Have
caught a glimpse. Miss Lawrence must have bribed old Jack to tell her where I’d
been, for I told no one, and stole off to-day so carefully that I defy them to
track me here.”

 
          
“Thank
you for remembering that w e did not wish to be disturbed; but
1 am
sorry that you have been annoyed, and hope
this handsome Helen will not come again. \ou think her handsome, don’t you?”
asked the girl, in the demure tone that she sometimes used with much effect.

 
          
“Yes;
but she is not to my taste. I like spirit, character, and variety of expression
in a face more than mere beauty of coloring or outline. One doesn’t see faces
like hers in one’s dreams, or imagine it at one’s fireside; it is a fine
picture — not the image of the woman one would live and die for.”

 
          
A
soft color had risen to Ariel’s cheek as she listened, wondering why those few
words sounded so sweet to her. Southesk caught the fleeting emotion, and made
the likeness perfect with a happy stroke or two. Pausing to survey his work
with pleasure, he said low to himself —

 
          
“What
more does it need?”

 
          
“Nothing
— it is excellent.”

 
          
The
paper fluttered from his hand as a man’s voice answered, and turning quickly,
he saw March standing behind him. He knew who it was at once, for several times
he had passed on the beach this roughly-dressed, stern-faced man, who came and
went as if blind to the gaiety all about him. Now, the change in him would have
greatly surprised his guest had not his interviews with Ariel prepared him for
the discovery, and when March greeted him with the air and manner of a gentleman,
he betrayed no astonishment, but, giving his name, repeated his desire to
sketch the beauties of the island, and asked permission to do so. A satirical
smile passed over March’s grave face, as he glanced from the paper he had
picked up to the bare cliffs below, but his tone was very courteous as he
replied —

 
          
“I
have no right to forbid any one to visit the island, though its solitude was
the attraction that brought me here. But poets and painters are privileged; so
come freely, and if your pen and pencil make it too famous for us we can
emigrate
to a more secluded spot, for we are only birds of
passage.”

 
          
“There
shall be no need of that, I assure you, sir. Its solitude is as attractive to
me as to
yourself,
and no word or act of mine shall
destroy the charm.” Southesk spoke eagerly, adding, with a longing glance at
the paper which March still held: “I ventured to begin with the island’s
mistress, and, with your permission, I will finish it as you pronounce it
good.”

 
          
“It
is excellent, and I shall be glad to bespeak a copy, for I’ve often tried to
sketch my will-o’-the-wisp, but never succeeded. What magic did you use to keep
her still so long?”

 
          
“This,
father,” and Ariel showed her gift, as she came to look over his shoulder, and
smile and blush to see herself so carefully portrayed.

 
          
Southesk
explained, and the conversation turning upon poetry, glided smoothly on till
the deepening twilight warned the guest to go, and more than ever charmed and
interested, he floated homeward to find Miss Lawrence waiting for him on the
beach, and to pass her with his coolest salutation.

 
          
From
that day he led a double life — one gav and frivolous for all the world to see,
the other sweet and secret as a lovers first romance. Hiring a room at a
fishermans cottage that stood in a lonely nook, and giving out that he was
seized with a fit of inspiration, he secluded himself whenever he chose,
without exciting comment or curiosity. Having purchased the old couples silence
regarding his movements, he came and went with perfect freedom, and passers-by
surveyed with respectful interest the drawn curtains behind which the young
poet was believed to be intent on songs and sonnets, while, in reality, he was
living a sweeter poem than any he could write far away on the lighthouse tower,
or hidden in the shadowy depths of Ariel’s nest. Even Helen was deceived, for,
knowing that hers were the keenest eves upon him, he effectually blinded them
for the time by slowly changing his former indifference to the gallant devotion
which may mean much or little, yet which is always flattering to a woman, and
doubly so to one who loves and waits for a return. Her society was more
agreeable to him than that of the giddy girls and
blase
men about him,
and believing that the belle of several seasons could easily guard the heart
that many had besieged, he freely enjoyed the intercourse which their summer
sojourn facilitated, all unconscious of the hopes and fears that made those
days the most eventful of her life.

 
          
Stern
was right; the young man could not see Ariel w ithout loving her. For years, he
had roamed about the world, heart-free; but his time came at last, and he
surrendered without a struggle. For a few weeks he lived in an enchanted world,
too happy to weigh consequences or dread disappointment. There was no cause for
doubt or fear — no need to plead for love — because the artless girl gave him
her heart as freely as a little child, and reading the language of his eyes,
answered eloquently with her own. It was a poet’s wooing; summer, romance,
beauty, innocence and youth — all lent their charms, and nothing marred its
delight. March watched and waited hopefully, well pleased at the success of his
desire; and seeing in the young man the future guardian of his child, soon
learned to love him for his own sake as well as hers. Stern was the only cloud
in all this sunshine; he preserved a grim silence, and seemed to take no heed
of what went on about him; but, could the cliffs have spoken, they might have
told pathetic secrets of the lonely man who haunted them by night, like a
despairing ghost; and the sea might have betrayed how many tears, bitter as its
own billows, had been wrung from a strong heart that loved, yet knew that the
passion never could be returned.

 
          
The
mystery that seemed at first to surround them no longer troubled him, for a few
words from March satisfied him that sorrow and misfortune made them seek
solitude, and shun the scenes where they had suffered most. A prudent man would
have asked more, but Southesk cared nothing for wealth or rank, and with the
delicacy of a generous nature, feared to wound by questioning too closely.
Ariel loved him; he had enough for all, and the present was too blissful to
permit any doubt of the past — any fears for the future.

 
          
So
the summer days rolled on, sunny and serene, as if tempests were unknown, and
brought, at last, the hour when Southesk longed to claim Ariel for his own, and
show the world the treasure he had found.