Part 6 (1/2)
Captain Comerford imparted this in jerky whispers, listening with one ear all the time to a sound which stirred Katherine, the voice which she had heard yesterday in the church at St. George's. The Englishman's spasmodic growl stopped, and she drifted a step nearer, listening. As she caught the words, her brows drew together with displeasure, with shocked surprise. The inspired saint of yesterday was reciting with earnestness, with every delicate inflection of his beautiful voice, these words:
”There was a young curate of Kidderminster, Who kindly, but firmly, chid a spinster, Because on the ice She said something not nice When he quite inadvertently slid ag'inst her.”
As the roar which followed this subsided, Katherine's face cleared.
What right had she to make a pattern of solemn righteousness for this stranger and be insulted if he did not fit? Certainly he was saintly--she had seen his soul bared to her vision; but certainly he was human also, as this moment was demonstrating. It flashed over her vaguely to wonder which was the dominant quality--which would rule in a stress of temptation--the saintly side or the human? But at least he was human with a winning humanity. His mirth and his enjoyment of it were as spontaneous as a mischievous, bright child's, and it was easy to see that the charm of his remarkable voice attracted others as it had attracted her.
”There was a young fellow from Clyde, Who was often at funerals espied--”
he had begun, and with that, between her first shock and her swift recovery, with the contrast between the man of yesterday and the man of to-day, Katherine suddenly laughed aloud. North stopped short, and turned and looked at her, and for a second and their eyes met, and each read recognition and friendliness. The Limerick went on:
”When asked who was dead, He nodded and said, '_I_ don't know--_I_ just came for the ride.'”
”Eleven for Mr. North--one-half minute more,” called Mr. Gale, and instantly North was in the breach:
”A sore-hipped hippopotamus quite fl.u.s.tered Objected to a poultice made of custard; 'Can't you doctor up my hip With anything but flip?'
So they put upon the hip a pot o' mustard.'”
And the half-minute was done and North had won, and there was clapping of hands for the victor, and at once, before the little uproar was over, Katherine saw him speak a word to Mr. Gale, and saw the latter, turning, stare about as if searching for some one, and, meeting her glance, smile.
”I want to present Mr. North, Miss Newbold,” Gale said.
”Why did you laugh in the middle of my Limerick? Had you heard it?”
North demanded, as if they had known each other a year instead of a minute.
”No, I had not heard it.” Katherine shook her head.
”Then why did you laugh?”
She looked at him reflectively. ”I don't know you well enough to tell you that.”
”How soon will you know me well enough--if I do my best?”
She considered. ”About three weeks from yesterday.”
Many things grow fast in southern climates--fruits, flowers, even friends.h.i.+p and love. Three weeks later, on a hot, bright morning of April, North and Katherine Newbold were walking down a road of Bermuda to the sea, and between them was what had ripened in the twenty-one days from a germ to a full-grown bud, ready to open at the lightest touch into flower. As they walked down such a road of a dream, the man talked to the girl as he had never talked to any one before. He spoke of his work and its hopes and disappointments, of the pathos, the tragedy, the comedy often of a way of life which leads by a deeper cut through men's hearts than any other, and he told her also, modestly indeed, and because he loved to tell her what meant much to him, of the joy of knowing himself successful in his parish. He went into details, absorbingly interesting to him, and this new luxury of speaking freely carried him away.
”I hope I'm not boring you.” His frank gaze turned on her anxiously. ”I don't know what right I have to a.s.sume that the increase in the Sunday-school, or even the new bra.s.s pulpit, is a fascinating subject to you. I never did this before,” he said, and there was something in his voice which hindered the girl from answering his glance. But there was no air of being bored about her, and he went on. ”However, life isn't all good luck. I had a serious blow just before I came down here--a queer thing happened. I told you just now that all the large gifts to St. John's had come from one man--a former paris.h.i.+oner. The man was James Litterny, of the great firm of--Why, what's the matter--what is it?” For Katherine had stopped short, in her fast, swinging walk, and without a sound had swayed and caught at the wall as if to keep herself from falling. Before he could reach her she had straightened herself and was smiling.
”I felt ill for a second--it's nothing,--let's go along.”
North made eager suggestions for her comfort, but the girl was firm in her a.s.sertion, that she was now quite well, so that, having no sisters and being ignorant that a healthy young woman does not, any more than a healthy young man, go white and stagger without reason, he yielded, and they walked briskly on.
”You were telling me something that happened to you--something connected with Mr.--with the rich paris.h.i.+oner.” Her tone was steady and casual, but looking at her, he saw that she was still pale.
”Do you really want to hear my yarns? You're sure it isn't that which made you feel faint--because I talked so much?”
”It's always an effort not to talk myself,” she laughed up at him, yet with a strange look in her eyes. ”All the same, talk a little more.
Tell me what you began to tell about Mr. Litterny.” The name came out full and strong.