CHAPTER II.
APPEARANCES.
The unconscious illustration of Mr. Pierce's theory was pacing backwardsand forwards on the narrow space between the cuddy-roof and the gunwale,which custom dignifies with the name of deck. Six strides forward andturn. Six strides aft and turn. That was the extent of the beat. Yet hadPeter been on sentry duty, he could not have continued it more regularlyor persistently. If he were walking off his supper, as most of thoseseated aft would have suggested, the performance was not particularlyinteresting. The limit and rapidity of the walk resembled the tramp of aconfined animal, exercising its last meal. But when one stands in frontof the lion's cage, and sees that restless and tireless stride, onecannot but wonder how much of it is due to the last shin-bone, and howmuch to the wild and powerful nature under the tawny skin. The questionoccurs because the nature and antecedents of the lion are known. Forthis same reason the yachters were a unit in agreeing that Stirling'sunceasing walk was merely a digestive promenade. The problem was whetherthey were right? Or whether, to apply Mr. Pierce's formula, they merelyimposed their own frame of mind in place of Stirling's, and decided,since their sole reason for walking at the moment would be entirelyhygienic, that he too must be striding from the same cause?
Dr. Holmes tells us that when James and Thomas converse there are reallysix talkers. First, James as James thinks he is, and Thomas as Thomasthinks he is. Second James as Thomas thinks him, and Thomas as Jamesthinks him. Finally, there are James and Thomas as they really are.Since this is neither an autobiography nor an inspired story, theworld's view of Peter Stirling must be adopted without regard to itsaccuracy. And because this view was the sum of his past and personal,these elements must be computed before we can know on what the worldbased its conclusions concerning him.
His story was as ordinary and prosaic as Mr. and Mrs. Pierce seemed tothink his character. Neither riches nor poverty had put a shaping handto it. The only child of his widowed mother, he had lived in one of thesmaller manufacturing cities of New England a life such as falls to mostlads. Unquestionably he had been rather more shielded from several formsof temptation than had most of his playmates, for his mother's isolationhad made him not merely her son, but very largely her companion. Incertain ways this had tended to make him more manly than the averagefellow of his age, but in others it had retarded his development; andthis backwardness had been further accentuated by a deliberate mind,which hardly kept pace with his physical growth. His school record wasfair: "Painstaking, but slow," was the report in studies. "Exemplary,"in conduct. He was not a leader among the boys, but he was verygenerally liked. A characteristic fact, for good or bad, was that he hadno enemies. From the clergyman to the "hired help," everybody had akind word for him, but tinctured by no enthusiasm. All spoke of him as"a good boy," and when this was said, they had nothing more to say.
One important exception to this statement is worthy of note. The girlsof the High School never liked him. If they had been called upon forreasons, few could have given a tangible one. At their age, everythingthis world contains, be it the Falls of Niagara, or a stick of chewinggum, is positively or negatively "nice." For some crime of commission oromission, Peter had been weighed and found wanting. "He isn't nice," wasthe universal verdict of the scholars who daily filed through the door,which the town selectmen, with the fine contempt of the narrow man forhis unpaid "help," had labelled, "For Females." If they had said that hewas "perfectly horrid," there might have been a chance for him. But thesubject was begun and ended with these three words. Such terseness inthe sex was remarkable and would have deserved a psychologicalinvestigation had it been based on any apparent data. But women'sopinions are so largely a matter of instinct and feeling, and so littleof judgment and induction, that an analysis of the mental processes ofthe hundred girls who had reached this one conclusion, would probablyhave revealed in each a different method of obtaining this product. Theimportant point is to recognize this consensus of opinion, and to noteits bearing on the development of the lad.
That Peter could remain ignorant of this feeling was not conceivable. Itpuzzled him not a little when he first began to realize the prejudice,and he did his best to reverse it. Unfortunately he took the very worstway. Had he avoided the girls persistently and obviously, he might haveinterested them intensely, for nothing is more difficult for a woman tounderstand than a woman-hater; and from the days of mother Eve theunknown is rumored to have had for her sex a powerful fascination. Buthe tried to win their friendship by humbleness and kindness, and so onlymade himself the more cheap in their eyes. "Fatty Peter," as theyjokingly called him, epitomized in two words their contempt of him.
Nor did things mend when he went to Harvard. Neither his mother'sabilities nor his choice were able to secure for him an _entree_ to thesociety which Cambridge and Boston dole out stintedly to certainprivileged collegians. Every Friday afternoon he went home, to return byan early train Monday morning. In his first year it is to be questionedif he exchanged ten words with women whose names were known to him,except during these home-visits. That this could long continue, wasimpossible. In his second year he was several times taken by his chum,Watts D'Alloi, to call. But always with one result. Invariably Peterwould be found talking to Mamma, or, better still, from his point ofview, with Pater-familias, while Watts chatted with the presumptiveattractions. Watts laughed at him always. Laughed still more when one ofthese calls resulted in a note, "requesting the pleasure" of Mr. PeterStirling's company to dinner. It was Watts who dictated the acceptance,helped Peter put the finishing touches to his toilet, and eventuallylanded him safely in Mrs. Purdie's parlor. His description to the boysthat night of what followed is worthy of quotation:
"The old fellow shook hands with Mrs. P., O.K. Something was said aboutthe weather, and then Mrs. P. said, 'I'll introduce you to the lady youare to take down, Mr. Stirling, but I shan't let you talk to her beforedinner. Look about you and take your choice of whom you would like tomeet?' Chum gave one agonized look round the room. There wasn't a womanover twenty-five in sight! And what do you think the wily old fox said?Call him simple! Not by a circumstance! A society beau couldn't havedone it better. Can't guess? Well, he said, 'I'd like to talk to you,Mrs. Purdie.' Fact! Of course she took it as a compliment, and was aspleased as could be. Well, I don't know how on earth he ever got throughhis introduction or how he ever reached the dining-room, for myinamorata was so pretty that I thought of nothing till we were seated,and the host took her attention for a moment. Then I looked across atchum, who was directly opposite, to see how he was getting on. Oh, youfellows would have died to see it! There he sat, looking straight outinto vacancy, so plainly laboring for something to say that I nearlyexploded. Twice he opened his lips to speak, and each time closed themagain. The girl of course looked surprised, but she caught my eye, andentered into the joke, and we both waited for developments. Then shesuddenly said to him, 'Now let's talk about something else.' It was toomuch for me. I nearly choked. I don't know what followed. Miss Jevonsturned and asked me something. But when I looked again, I could see theperspiration standing on Peter's forehead, while the conversation wentby jerks and starts as if it was riding over a ploughed field. MissCallender, whom he took in, told me afterwards that she had never had aharder evening's work in her life. Nothing but 'yeses' and 'noes' to begot from him. She wouldn't believe what I said of the old fellow."
Three or four such experiences ended Peter's dining out. He wasrecognized as unavailable material. He received an occasional card to areception or a dance, for anything in trousers passes muster for suchfunctions. He always went when invited, and was most dutiful in thecounter-calls. In fact, society was to him a duty which he dischargedwith the same plodding determination with which he did his day'sstudies. He never dreamed of taking his social moments frivolously. Hedid not recognize that society is very much like a bee colony--stingingthose who approached it shyly and quietly, but to be mastered by a boldbeating of tin pans. He neither danced nor talked, and so he was
shuntedby the really pleasant girls and clever women, and passed his time withwall-flowers and unbearables, who, in their normal sourness, regardedand, perhaps, unconsciously made him feel, hardly to his encouragement,that his companionship was a sort of penance. If he had been asked, atthe end of his senior year, what he thought of young women and society,he would probably have stigmatized them, as he himself had beenformerly: "not nice." All of which, again to apply Mr. Pierce's theory,merely meant that the phases which his own characteristics had shownhim, had re-acted on his own mind, and had led him to conclude thatgirls and society were equally unendurable.
The condition was a dangerous one, and if psychology had its doctorsthey would have predicted a serious heart illness in store for him. Howserious, would depend largely on whether the fever ran its naturalcourse, or whether it was driven inwards by disappointment. If thesedoctors had ceased studying his mental condition and glanced at hisphysical appearance, they would have had double cause to shake theirheads doubtingly.
Peter was not good-looking. He was not even, in a sense, attractive. Inspite of his taking work so hardly and life so seriously, he wasentirely too stout. This gave a heaviness to his face that neutralizedhis really pleasant brown eyes and thick brown hair, which were his bestfeatures. Manly the face was, but, except when speaking in unconsciousmoments, dull and unstriking. A fellow three inches shorter, andtwo-thirds his weight would have been called tall. "Big" was thefavorite adjective used in describing Peter, and big he was. Had he gonethrough college ten years later, he might have won unstinted fame andadmiration as the full-back on the team, or stroke on the crew. In histime, athletics were but just obtaining, and were not yet approved ofeither by faculties or families. Shakespeare speaks of a tide in theaffairs of men. Had Peter been born ten years later the probabilitiesare that his name would have been in all the papers, that he would haveweighed fifty pounds less, have been cheered by thousands, have been theidol of his class, have been a hero, have married the first girl heloved (for heroes, curiously, either marry or die, but never remainbachelors) and would have--but as this is a tale of fact, we must notgive rein to imagination. To come back to realism, Peter was a hero tonobody but his mother.
Such was the man, who, two weeks after graduation from Harvard, waspacing up and down the deck of Mr. Pierce's yacht, the "Sunrise," as shedrifted with the tide in Long Island Sound. Yet if his expression, as hewalked, could for a moment have been revealed to those seated aft, theface that all thought dull and uninteresting would have riveted theirattention, and set each one questioning whether there might not besomething both heroic and romantic underneath. The set determination ofhis look can best be explained by telling what had given his face suchrigid lines.