itwere in chains across the parade, before everybody, her father, hermother, her sister, and HIS--was not to be lost. She darted into thehouse, and reappeared with the daintiest imaginable straw hat on theside of her head, and demurely took her place at his side. "It's onlyover there, at Major Bromley's," she said, pointing to one of thevine-clad cottage quarters; "but you are a stranger here, you know, andmight get lost."
Alas! he was already that. For keeping step with those fairy-likeslippers, brushing awkwardly against that fresh and pretty skirt, andfeeling the caress of the soft folds; looking down upon the brim ofthat beribboned little hat, and more often meeting the upturned blueeyes beneath it, Jim was suddenly struck with a terrible conviction ofhis own contrasting coarseness and deficiencies. How hideous thoseoiled canvas fishing-trousers and pilot jacket looked beside thisperfectly fitted and delicately gowned girl! He loathed his collar,his jersey, his turned-back sou'wester, even his height, which seemedto hulk beside her--everything, in short, that the girl had recentlyadmired. By the time that they had reached Major Bromley's door he hadso far succumbed to the fair enchantress and realized her ambition of atriumphant procession, that when she ushered him into the presence ofhalf a dozen ladies and gentlemen he scarcely recognized his sister asthe centre of attraction, or knew that Miss Cicely's effusive greetingof Maggie was her first one. "I knew he was dying to see you after allyou had BOTH passed through, and I brought him straight here," said thediminutive Machiavelli, meeting the astonished gaze of her father andthe curious eyes of her sister with perfect calmness, while Maggie,full of gratitude and admiration of her handsome brother, forgot hismomentary obliviousness, and returned her greeting warmly.Nevertheless, there was a slight movement of reserve among thegentlemen at the unlooked-for irruption of this sunburnt Adonis, untilCalvert, disengaging himself from Maggie's side, came forward with hisusual frank imperturbability and quiet tact, and claimed Jim as hisfriend and honored guest.
It then came out with that unostentatious simplicity whichcharacterized the brother and sister, and was their secure claim toperfect equality with their entertainers, that Jim, on discovering hissister's absence, and fearing that she might be carried by the currenttowards the bar, had actually SWUM THE ESTUARY to Indian Island, and inan ordinary Indian canoe had braved the same tempestuous passage shehad taken a few hours before. Cicely, listening to this recital withrapt attention, nevertheless managed to convey the impression of havingfully expected it from the first. "Of course he'd have come here; ifshe'd only waited," she said, sotto voce, to her sister Emily.
"He's certainly the handsomer of the two," responded that young lady.
"Of course," returned Cicely, with a superior air, "don't you see sheCOPIES him."
Not that this private criticism prevented either from vying with theyounger officers in their attentions to Maggie, with perhaps theaddition of an open eulogy of her handsome brother, more or lessinvidious in comparison to the officers. "I suppose it's an activeout-of-door life gives him that perfect grace and freedom," said Emily,with a slight sneer at the smartly belted Calvert. "Yes; and he don'tdrink or keep late hours," responded Cicely significantly. "His sistersays they always retire before ten o'clock, and that although hisfather left him some valuable whiskey he seldom takes a drop of it.""Therein," gravely concluded Captain Kirby, "lies OUR salvation. If,after such a confession, Calvert doesn't make the most of hisacquaintance with young Culpepper to remove that whiskey from his pathand bring it here, he's not the man I take him for."
Indeed, for the moment it seemed as if he was not. During the nextthree or four days, in which Colonel Preston had insisted upondetaining his guests, Calvert touched no liquor, evaded the eveningpoker parties at quarters, and even prevailed upon some of his brotherofficers to give them up for the more general entertainment of theladies. Colonel Preston was politician enough to avail himself of thepopularity of Maggie's adventure to invite some of the Logport peopleto assist him in honoring their neighbor. Not only was the old feudbetween the Fort and the people thus bridged over, but there was nodoubt that the discipline of the Fort had been strengthened by Maggie'sextravagant reputation as a mediator among the disaffected rank andfile. Whatever characteristic license the grateful DennisM'Caffrey--let off with a nominal punishment--may have taken in hispraise of the "Quane of the Marshes," it is certain that the menworshiped her, and that the band pathetically begged permission toserenade her the last night of her stay.
At the end of that time, with a dozen invitations, a dozenappointments, a dozen vows of eternal friendship, much hand-shaking,and accompanied by a number of the officers to their boat, Maggie andJim departed. They talked but little on their way home; by some tacitunderstanding they did not discuss those projects, only recallingcertain scenes and incidents of their visit. By the time they hadreached the little creek the silence and nervous apathy which usuallyfollow excitement in the young seemed to have fallen upon them. It wasnot until after their quiet frugal supper that, seated beside the fire,Jim looked up somewhat self-consciously in his sister's grave andthoughtful face.
"Say, Mag, what was that idea o' yours about selling some land, andtaking a house at Logport?"
Maggie looked up, and said passively, "Oh, THAT idea?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Well," said Jim somewhat awkwardly, "it COULD be done, you know. I'mwillin'."
As she did not immediately reply, he continued uneasily, "Miss Prestonsays we kin get a nice little house that is near the Fort, until wewant to build."
"Oh, then you HAVE talked about it?"
"Yes--that is--why, what are ye thinkin' of, Mag? Wasn't it YOUR ideaall along?" he said, suddenly facing her with querulous embarrassment.They had been sitting in their usual evening attitudes of Assyrianfrieze profile, with even more than the usual Assyrian friezesimilarity of feature.
"Yes; but, Jim dear, do you think it the best thing for--for us to do?"said Maggie, with half-frightened gravity.
At this sudden and startling exhibition of female inconsistency andinconsequence, Jim was for a moment speechless. Then he recoveredhimself, volubly, aggrievedly, and on his legs. What DID she mean? Washe to give up understanding girls--or was it their sole vocation inlife to impede masculine processes and shipwreck masculine conclusions?Here, after all she said the other night, after they had nearly"quo'lled" over her "set idees," after she'd "gone over all thatfoolishness about Jael and Sisera--and there wasn't any use forit--after she'd let him run on to them officers all he was goin' todo--nay, after SHE herself, for he had heard her, had talked to Calvertabout it, she wanted to know NOW if it was best." He looked at thefloor and the ceiling, as if expecting the tongued and grooved planksto cry out at this crowning enormity.
The cause of it had resumed her sad gaze at the fire. Presently,without turning her head, she reached up her long, graceful arm, andclasping her brother's neck, brought his face down in profile with herown, cheek against cheek, until they looked like the double outlines ofa medallion. Then she said--to the fire:
"Jim, do you think she's pretty?"
"Who?" said Jim, albeit his color had already answered the question.
"You know WHO. Do you like her?"
Jim here vaguely murmured to the fire that he thought her "kindernice," and that she dressed mighty purty. "Ye know, Mag," he said withpatronizing effusion, "you oughter get some gownds like hers."
"That wouldn't make me like her," said Maggie gravely.
"I don't know about that," said Jim politely, but with an appallinghopelessness of tone. After a pause he added slyly, "'Pears to meSOMEBODY ELSE thought somebody else mighty purty--eh?"
To his discomfiture she did not solicit further information. After apause he continued, still more archly:
"Do you like HIM, Mag?"
"I think he's a perfect gentleman," she said calmly.
He turned his eyes quickly from the glowing fire to her face. Thecheek that had been resting against his own was as cool as the nightw
ind that came through the open door, and the whole face was as fixedand tranquil as the upper stars.
V.
For a year the tide had ebbed and flowed on the Dedlow Marsh unheededbefore the sealed and sightless windows of the "Kingfisher's Nest."Since the young birds had flown to Logport, even the Indian caretakershad abandoned the piled dwelling for their old nomadic haunts in the"bresh." The high spring tide had again made its annual visit to thelittle cemetery of drift-wood, and, as if recognizing another wreck inthe deserted home, had hung a few memorial