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Page 35
For the expedition which had been planned by the three for that
afternoon was to explore a little island far down the river, farther
than any of them had yet gone.
Rosamond wore no roses when she went slowly down the bank that day,--not
even in her cheeks.
And when Louis Symington saw her coming alone, only the sunbrown on his
face concealed the sudden rush of blood from it to his heart.
"The professor could not come," she said hurriedly, "so he made me come
without him; that is--I mean--" And she stopped, confused.
"If you prefer to wait until he can go with us, pray do not hesitate to
say so," he replied stiffly, and pausing--with her hand in his--in the
act of helping her into the boat.
"Oh, I did not mean to say anything rude," she exclaimed penitently; and
she stepped across the seats to the cushioned end of the boat. "Of
course we will go; but perhaps--would you mind--couldn't we just take a
little row to-day, and save the island until the professor can go?"
"Certainly," he said, still in the same constrained tone; and, without
another word, he helped her to her place and arranged the cushions about
her.
The silence lasted so long that she felt she could bear it no longer.
"Will you please sing something?" she said at last, desperately, "You
know you sang that first day; and it sounded so lovely on the water. Do
you remember?"
He looked at her fixedly for a moment. Then he said simply, "Yes, I
remember," and began at once to sing. But he did not sing "Twickenham
Ferry" to day. He would have given all he was worth, when he had sung
one line, if he could have changed it into a college song, a negro
melody,--anything. For this was what he found himself singing:
"How can I bear to leave thee?
One parting kiss I give thee,
And then, whate'er befalls me,
I go where Honor calls me."
She would not hide her face in her hands, but she might turn it away:
how was he to know that she was not watching with breathless interest
the young couple straying along the bank, arm closely linked in arm, in
the sweet June sunshine?
"Thank you," she said faintly, when the last trembling note had died
away: "that was--very pretty."
"I am glad you liked it," he said, with quiet irony in his tones.
And then there was another alarming pause. Anything was better than
that, and she began to talk almost at random, telling of various
laughable things which had occurred among her scholars, laughing
herself, somewhat shrilly, at the places where laughter was due.
He sat silent, unsmiling, through it all until they stepped from the
boat. Then he said, "It is really refreshing to see you in such good
spirits. I had always understood that even the happiest _fianc�e_ was
somewhat pensive and melancholy as the day of fate drew near."
"You have no right to speak to me in that way,--in that tone," she
cried, with sudden heat.
He bowed low, saying, "Pardon me; I am only too well aware that I have
no rights of any kind so far as you are concerned. But it is impossible
to efface one's self entirely."
"Now you are angry with me," she said forlornly; "and I don't know what
I have done."
"I angry with _you_!" he cried. "Oh, Rosamond! Rosamond!"
"I am glad if you are not," she said,--"very glad; but I must go--the
professor--" And she sped up the bank before he could speak again.
IV.
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