CHAPTER VIII.
Barbara rounded the next turn. There before her, widely gleaming,spread the waters of the great river itself. She cried out in her joy,and paddled madly--then paused, abashed, perceiving that she was theobject of a critical but frankly admiring scrutiny. Her attention wasdiverted from the great river. Here was a tall boy--of her own casteunmistakably--poling himself out on a precarious little raft to meether. Her flush of confusion passed as quickly as it had come, andlaying her paddle across the gunwale, she waited with interest todiscover what he might have to say.
Barbara had met but few boys of her own class, and those few hadseemed, under her merciless analysis, uniformly uninteresting. Theirsalient characteristics, to her mind, were freckles, rudeness,ignorance, and a disposition to tease cats. But this youth wasobviously different. Apparently about seventeen years of age, he wastall and graceful, and the way the clumsy log-raft on which he stoodsurged forward under the thrusts of his pole revealed his strength.Barbara loved strength, so long as delicacy saved it from coarseness.The boy was in his shirt sleeves, which were of spotless cambric, andBarbara noted, with approbation, the ample ruffles turned back, forconvenience, from his sinewy brown hands. She observed that his brown,long-fronted, flowered vest was of silk, and his lighter brownsmall-clothes of a fine cloth worn only by the gentry; that hisstockings were of black silk, and his shoes, drenched most of the timein the water that lapped over the raft, were adorned with large bucklesof silver. She admired the formal fashion in which his black hair wastied back in a small and very precise queue. But most of all she likedhis face, which was even darker than her own--lean, somewhat square inthe jaw, with a broad forehead, and gray-blue, thoughtful eyes, setwide apart.
Now, Barbara's fearless scorn of conventions was equalled only by herignorance of them. This boy pleased her, so why should she hesitate toshow it? When the raft ranged up alongside the canoe, she laid holdupon it for anchorage and the greater convenience in conversation, andflashed upon the stranger the full dazzle of her scarlet lips, whiteteeth, and bewildering radiance of green eyes. The boy straightenedhimself from the pole in order to bow with the more ceremony--which heaccomplished to Barbara's complete satisfaction in spite of theunsteadiness of the raft.
"What a nice-looking boy you are!" she said, frankly condescending."What is your name?"
"_What a nice-looking boy you are!" she said._]
"Robert Gault, your very humble servant!" he replied, bowing again, andsmiling. The smile was altogether to Barbara's fancy, and showed even,strong, white teeth, another most uncommon merit in a boy. "And I amsure," he went on, "that this is Mistress Barbara Ladd whom I have thehonour to address."
"Why, how do you know me?" exclaimed Barbara, highly pleased. Then,quickly apprehensive, she added, "What makes you think I am BarbaraLadd?"
The boy noted the change in her countenance, and wondered at it. Buthe replied at once:
"Of course the name of Mistress Barbara Ladd, and her daring, and hercanoe-craft, and her beauty" (this he added out of his own instantconviction), "have spread far down the river. When I came up here theother day to visit my grandmother" (he indicated slightly the distantroofs of Gault House), "I came with a great hope of being permitted tomeet you!"
Evidently he knew nothing of her flight. Her uneasiness vanished. Butshe had never had a compliment before--a personal compliment, such asis dear to every wise feminine heart--and that word "beauty" was mostmelodious to her ears. As a matter of fact, she did not herself admireher own appearance at all, and even had an aversion to the mirror--butit occurred to her now, for the first time, that this was a point uponwhich it was not needful that every one should agree with her. It waspractically her first real lesson in tolerance toward an opinion thatdiffered from her own.
"I'll warrant you heard no good of that same Barbara Ladd, more's thepity!" she answered, coquettishly tossing her dark little head andshooting at him a distracting sidelong glance from narrowed lids."Anyhow, if you are Lady Gault's grandson, I am most happy to meet you."
She stretched out to him her brown little hand, just now none tooimmaculate, indeed, but with breeding stamped on every slim line of it,and eloquent from the polished, well-trimmed, long, oval nails.Instantly, careless of the water and his fine cloth breeches, Robertwent down upon one knee and gallantly kissed the proffered hand.
Barbara was just at an age when, for girls with Southern blood in theirveins, womanhood and childhood lie so close entwined in theirpersonalities that it is impossible to disentangle the golden and thesilver threads. Never before had any one kissed her hand. She wassurprised at the pleasant thrill it gave her; and she was surprised,too, at her sudden, inexplicable impulse to draw the hand away. It wasa silly impulse, she told herself; so she controlled it, and acceptedthe kiss with the composure of a damsel well used to such ceremonioushomage. But she did not like such a nice boy to be kneeling in thewater.
"Why did you come out on that rickety thing?" she asked. "Why haven'tyou a boat or a canoe?"
"This was the only thing within reach," he explained, respectfullyrelinquishing her hand. "I saw you coming; and I knew it must be you,because no other girl could handle a canoe so beautifully; and I wasafraid of losing you if I waited."
"That was civil of you. But aren't you getting very wet there? Won'tyou come into the canoe?"
"Really?" he exclaimed, lifting his chin with a quick gesture ofeagerness. "Are you going to be so good to me? Then I must push thisold raft ashore first and secure it. I don't know whom it belongs to."
As he poled to land in too much haste for any further conversation,Barbara paddled silently alongside and admired his skill. When theraft was tied up, and the pole tossed into the bushes, he took hisplace in the bow and knelt so as to face her.
"You must turn the other way," laughed Barbara.
"No, I was proposing, by your leave, to make this the stern, and askyou to let me paddle," he answered. "Won't you let me? You reallylook a little bit tired, and I want you to talk to me, if you will beso condescending. How can I turn my back to you?"
"I am not the least, leastest bit tired," protested Barbara, a littledoubtfully. "But I don't mind letting you paddle for awhile, if you'llpaddle hard and go the way I want you to." And with that she seatedherself flat on the bottom of the canoe, with an air of relief thatrather contradicted her protestation.
The boy laughed, as he turned the canoe with powerful, sweeping strokes.
"Surely I will paddle hard, and in whatsoever direction you command me.Am I not the most obedient of your slaves?"
This pleased Barbara. She loved slaves. She accepted his servitude atonce and fully.
"Paddle straight out into the river, and then down!" she commanded.
At the imperious note in her voice, the boy looked both amused andpleased. Obeying without a word of question, he sent the canoe leapingforward under his deep, rhythmical strokes at a speed that filledBarbara with admiration.
"Oh, _how_ strong you are and _how_ well you paddle!" she cried, hereyes wide and sparkling, her lips parted, the crisp, rebellious curlsblowing about her face. Never had Robert seen so bewitching a pictureas this small figure curled up happily in the bow of the canoe, herlittle shoes of red leather and her black-stockinged ankles stickingout demurely from under her short blue striped skirt, her nut-brown,slender, finely modelled arms emerging from short loose sleeves. Hewas proud of her praise. He was partly engrossed in displaying hisskill and strength to the very best advantage. But above all he wasthinking of this picture, which was destined to flash back into hismemory many a time in after days, with a poignancy of vividness thataffected his action like a summons or an appeal.
In a few minutes the canoe was fairly out upon the bosom of the mainstream, and headed downward with the strongly flowing current. Barbaraclasped her hands with a movement which expressed such rapture andrelief that the boy's curiosity was excited. He began to feel thatthere was some mystery
in the affair. Slackening his pace ever soslightly, he remarked:
"I suppose you are staying with friends somewhere in thisneighbourhood. How fortunate I am--that is, if you will graciouslypermit me to go canoeing with you often while you are here."
But even as he spoke, his eyes took in, for the first time, thesignificance of the bundle and the basket, which he had been so far toooccupied to notice. His wonder came forward and spoke plainly from hisfrank eyes, and Barbara was at a loss to explain.
"No," she said, "I am not staying anywhere in this neighbourhood. Idon't know a soul in this neighbourhood but you."
"Then--you've come right from Second Westings!" he exclaimed.
"Right from Second Westings."
"All that distance since this morning?" he persisted.
She nodded impatiently.
"Through those woods--through the rapids--all alone?"
"Yes, all alone!" she answered, a little crisply. She was annoyed.
In his astonishment he laid down his paddle and leaned forward,scanning her face.
"But--" said he, embarrassed, "forgive me! I know it is none of mybusiness,--but what does it mean?"
"Go on paddling," commanded Barbara. "Did you not promise you wouldobey me? _I_ know what it means!" And she laughed, half maliciously.The boy looked worried,--and it was great fun to bring that worriedlook to his face.
He resumed his paddling, though much less vigorously, while she evadedhis gaze, and a wilful smile clung about her lips. The current wasswift, and they had soon left the imposing white columns of Gault Housefar behind. A tremendous sense of responsibility came over the boy,and again he stopped paddling.
"Oh, perhaps you are tired!" suggested Barbara, coolly. "Give me thepaddle, and I'll set you ashore right here."
"I said just now it was none of my business," said he, gravely,appealingly, "but, do you know, I think perhaps it ought to be mybusiness! I ought to ask!"
He retained the paddle, but turned the canoe's head up-stream and heldit steady.
"What do you mean?" demanded Barbara, angrily. "Give me the paddle atonce!"
Still he made no motion to obey.
"Do you realise," he asked, "that it's now near sundown,--that it willtake till dark to work back against the current to where I metyou,--that there's no place near here where a lady can rest for thenight--"
"I don't care," interrupted Barbara hotly, ready to cry with anger andanxiety; "I'm going to travel all night. I'm going to the sea--to myuncle at Stratford! I just don't want you to interfere. Let me putyou ashore at once!"
Robert was struck dumb with amazement. To the sea! This small girl,all alone! And evidently quite unacquainted with the perils of theriver. It was superb pluck,--but it was wild, impossible folly. Hedid not know what to do. He turned the canoe toward shore, andpresently found himself in quieter water, out of the current.
Observing his ready obedience, Barbara was mollified; but at the sametime she was conscious of a sinking of the heart because he was goingto leave her alone, when it would soon be dark. She had notconsidered, hitherto, this necessity of travelling in the dark. Shemade up her mind to tell the nice boy everything, and get him to adviseher as to where she could stay for the night.
"I'm running away, you know, Master Gault," she said, sweetly, as if itwere the most ordinary thing in the world.
"Are you at all acquainted with the river?" he asked, gently, without atrace of resentment for the way she had spoken to him a moment before.
"No!" confessed Barbara, in a very small voice, deprecatingly.
"A few miles farther down there is a stretch of very bad water," saidthe boy. "Clever canoeist as you are, you would find it hard enoughwork going through in broad daylight. At night you would just bedashed to pieces in a minute."
"Oh, what shall I do?" cried Barbara, the perils of her adventure justbeginning to touch her imagination.
"Let me take you to my grandmother's," he pleaded. "And we will paddleback to Second Westings to-morrow."
Barbara burst into a storm of tears.
"Never! never! never!" she sobbed. "I'll die in the rapids before I'llever go back to Aunt Hitty! Oh, why did I like you? Why did I trustyou? Oh, I don't know what to do!"
The boy's heart came into his throat and ached at the sight of hertrouble. He longed desperately to help her. He had a wild impulse toswear that he would follow her and protect her, wherever she wanted togo, however impossible her undertaking. Instead of that, however, hekept silence and paddled forward resolutely for two or three minutes,while Barbara, her face buried in her hands, shook with sobs. At lasthe ran the canoe into a shadowy cove, where lily leaves floated on theunruffled water. Then he laid down his paddle.
"Tell me all about it, won't you, please?" he petitioned. "I do wantso much to help you. And perhaps I can. And you _shall not_ be sorryfor trusting me!"
How very comforting his voice was! So tender, and kind, and with afaithful ring in its tenderness. Barbara suffered it to comfort her.Surely he would understand, if old Debby could! In a few moments shelifted her wet little face, flashed a smile at him through her tears,and said:
"How good and kind you are! Forgive me if I was bad to you. Yes, I'lltell you all about it, and then you can see for yourself why I had tocome away."
Barbara's exposition was vivid and convincing. Her emotion, her uttersincerity, fused everything, and she had the gift of the tellingphrase. What wonder if the serious, idealistic, chivalrous boy, uponwhose nerves her fire and her alien, elusive beauty thrilled likewizard music, saw all the situation through her eyes. Her faults wereinvisible to him ere he had listened a minute to her narrative. Shewas right to run away. The venture, of course, was a mad one, but withhis help it might well be carried through to success. As she talkedon, an intoxication of enthusiasm and sympathy tingled along his bloodand rose to his brain. Difficulties vanished, or displayed themselvesto his deluded imagination only as obstacles which it would be splendidto overcome. In the ordinary affairs of life the boy was cool,judicious, reasonable, to a degree immeasurably beyond his years; butBarbara's strange magnetism had called forth the dreamer and the poetlurking at the foundations of his character; and his judgment, for thetime, was overwhelmed. When Barbara's piercing eloquence ceased, andshe paused breathless, eyes wide and lips parted in expectation, hesaid, solemnly:
"I will help you! To the utmost of my power I will help you!"
The words had the weight and significance of a consecration.
Barbara clapped her hands.
"Oh!" she cried, "How can I ever thank you for being so lovely to me?But I knew you were nice the moment I looked at you!" And a loadrolled off her mind. With such a helper, already was her enterpriseaccomplished.
"I will try hard to be worthy of your favour," said Robert, with deepgravity, feeling that now indeed was boyhood put away and full manhooddescended upon his shoulders. His brain was racked with the terrificproblem of finding Barbara fit lodging for the night; but meantime heturned the canoe and paddled swiftly out into the current. Hardly hadhe changed his course when he noticed a light rowboat creeping up alongthe shore. But boats were no unusual sight on the river, and he paidno heed to it. As for Barbara, she was so absorbed in watching hisgreat strokes, and in thinking how delightful it was to have found suchan ally, that the sound of the oars passed her ears unheeded, and shedid not turn her head.