"You don't believe in thinking about yourself," she said.
"Oh, I try a little introspection, now and then. But I soon get through: there isn't much of me to think about."
"No, don't talk in that way," she pleaded, and she was very charming in her earnestness: it was there that her charm lay. "I want you to be serious with me, and tell me--tell me how men feel when."--A sudden splashing startled her, and looking round she saw a multitude of curious, great-eyed, black heads, something like the heads of boys, and something like the heads of dogs, thrusting from the water, and flashing under it again at sight of them with a swish that sent the spray into the air. She sprang to her feet. "Oh, look at those things! Look at them!
Look at them!" She laid vehement hands upon the young man, and pushed him in the direction in which she wished him to look, at some risk of pushing him overboard, while he laughed at her ecstasy.
"They're seals. The bay's full of them. Did you never see them on the reef at Jocelyn's?"
"I never saw them before!" she cried. "How wonderful they are! Oh!" she shouted; as one of them glanced sadly at her over its shoulder, and then vanished with a whirl of the head. "The Beatrice Cenci attitude!"
"They 're always trying that," said Libby. "Look yonder." He pointed to a bank of mud which the tide had not yet covered, and where a herd of seals lay basking in the sun. They started at his voice, and wriggling and twisting and bumping themselves over the earth to the water's edge, they plunged in. "Their walk isn't so graceful as their swim. Would you like one for a pet, Miss Breen? That's all they 're good for since kerosene came in. They can't compete with that, and they're not the kind that wear the cloaks."
She was standing with her hand pressed hard upon his shoulder.
"Did they ever kill them?"
"They used to take that precaution."
"With those eyes? It was murder! "She withdrew her hand and sat down.
"Well, they only catch them, now. I tried it myself once. I set out at low tide, about ten o'clock, one night, and got between the water and the biggest seal on the bank. We fought it out on that line till daylight."
"And did you get it?" she demanded, absurdly interested.
"No, it got me. The tide came in, and the seal beat."
"I am glad of that."
"Thank you."
"What did you want with it?"
"I don't think I wanted it at all. At any rate, that's what I always said. I shall have to ask you to sit on this side," he added, loosening the sheet and preparing to shift the sail. "The wind has backed round a little more to the south, and it's getting lighter."
"If it's going down we shall be late," she said, with an intimation of apprehension.
"We shall be at Leyden on time. If the wind falls then, I can get a horse at the stable and have you driven back."
"Well."
He kept scanning the sky. Then, "Did you ever hear them whistle for a wind?" he asked.
"No. What is it like?"
"When Adams does it, it's like this." He put on a furtive look, and glanced once or twice at her askance. "Well!" he said with the reproduction of a strong nasal, "of course I don't believe there's anything in it. Of course it's all foolishness. Now you must urge me a little," he added, in his own manner.
"Oh, by all means go on, Mr. Adams," she cried, with a laugh.
He rolled his head again to one side sheepishly.
"Well, I don't presume it DOES have anything to do with the wind--well, I don't PRESUME it does." He was silent long enough to whet an imagined expectation; then he set his face towards the sky, and began a soft, low, coaxing sibilation between his teeth. "S-s-s-s; s-s-s-s-s-s! Well, it don't stand to reason it can bring the wind--S-s-s-s-s-s-s; s-s-s-s.
Why, of course it 's all foolishness. S-s-s-s." He continued to emit these sibilants, interspersing them with Adams's protests. Suddenly the sail pulled the loose sheet taut and the boat leaped forward over the water.
"Wonderful!" cried the girl.
"That's what I said to Adams, or words to that effect. But I thought we should get it from the look of the sky before I proposed to whistle for it. Now, then," he continued, "I will be serious, if you like."
"Serious?"
"Yes. Didn't you ask me to be serious just before those seals interrupted you?"
"Oh!" she exclaimed, coloring a little. "I don't think we can go back to that, now." He did not insist, and she said presently, "I thought the sailors had a superstition about ships that are lucky and unlucky. But you've kept your boat"
"I kept her for luck: the lightning never strikes twice in the same place. And I never saw a boat that behaved so well."
"Do you call it behaving well to tip over?"
"She behaved well before that. She didn't tip over outside the reef"
"It certainly goes very smoothly," said the girl. She had in vain recurred to the tragic motive of her coming; she could not revive it; there had been nothing like expiation in this eventless voyage; it had been a pleasure and no penance. She abandoned herself with a weak luxury to the respite from suffering and anxiety; she made herself the good comrade of the young man whom perhaps she even tempted to flatter her farther and farther out of the dreariness in which she had dwelt; and if any woful current of feeling swept beneath, she would not fathom it, but resolutely floated, as one may at such times, on the surface. They laughed together and jested; they talked in the gay idleness of such rare moods.
They passed a yacht at anchor, and a young fellow in a white duck cap, leaning over the rail, saluted Libby with the significant gravity which one young man uses towards another whom he sees in a sail-boat with a pretty girl.
She laughed at this. "Do you know your friend?" she asked.
"Yes. This time I do?"
"He fancies you are taking some young lady a sail. What would he say if you were to stop and introduce me to him as Dr. Breen?"
"Oh, he knows who you are. It's Johnson."
"The one whose clothes you came over in, that morning?"
"Yes. I suppose you laughed at me."
"I liked your having the courage to do it. But how does he know me?"
"I--I described you. He's rather an old friend." This also amused her.
