Quick Action. Chambers Robert William

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ She had lifted her head from the pages of the field book to look at him. When his voice failed, and while the red burned brilliantly in his ears, she resumed her perusal of his journal, gravely. After a while, though she turned the pages as if she were really reading, he concluded that her mind was elsewhere. It was.

      Presently he rose, mended the fire, filled the kettle, and unhooked the brace of wild ducks from the eaves where they swung, and marched off with them toward the water.

      When he returned, the ducks were plucked and split for broiling. He found her seated as he had left her, dreaming awake, idle hands folded on the pages of his open field book.

      For dinner they had broiled mallard, coffee, ash-cakes, and bon-bons. After it she smoked a cigarette with him.

      Later she informed him that it was her first, and that she liked it, and requested another.

      "Don't," he said, smiling.

      "Why?"

      "It spoils a girl's voice, ultimately."

      "But it's very agreeable."

      "Will you promise not to?" he asked, lightly.

      Suddenly her blue eyes became serious.

      "Yes," she said, "if you wish."

      The woods grew darker. Far across the lagoon a tiger-owl woke up and began to yelp like a half-strangled hobgoblin.

      She sat silent for a little while, then very quietly and frankly put her hand on Jones's. It was shaking.

      "I am afraid of that sound," she said calmly.

      "It is only a big owl," he reassured her, retaining her hand.

      "Is that what it is? How very dark the woods are! I had no idea that there could be such utter darkness. I am not sure that I care for it."

      "There is nothing to harm you in these woods."

      "No bears and wolves and panthers?"

      "There are a few – and all very anxious to keep away from anything human."

      "Are you sure?"

      "Absolutely."

      "Do you mind if I leave my hand where it is?"

      It appeared that he had no insurmountable objections.

      After the seventh tiger-owl had awakened and the inky blackness quivered with the witch-like shouting and hellish tumult, he felt her shoulder pressing against his. And bending to look into her face saw that all the colour in it had fled.

      "You mustn't be frightened," he said earnestly.

      "But I am. I'm sorry… I'll try to accustom myself to it… The darkness is a – a trifle terrifying – isn't it?"

      "It's beautiful, too," he said, looking up at the firelit foliage overhead. She looked up also, her slender throat glimmering rosy in the embers' glare. After a moment she nodded:

      "It is wonderful… If I only had a little time to accustom myself to it I am sure I should love it… Oh! What was that very loud splash out there in the dark?"

      "A big fish playing in the lagoon; or perhaps wild ducks feeding."

      After a few minutes he felt her soft hand tighten within his.

      "It sounds as though some great creature were prowling around our fire," she whispered. "Do you hear its stealthy tread?"

      "Noises in the forest are exaggerated," he said carelessly. "It may be a squirrel or some little furry creature out hunting for his supper. Please don't be afraid."

      "Then it isn't a bear?"

      "No, dear," he said, so naturally and unthinkingly that for a full second neither realised the awful break of Delancy Jones.

      When they did they said nothing about it. But it was some time before speech was resumed. She was the first to recover. Perhaps the demoralisation was largely his. It usually is that way.

      She said: "This has been the most perfect day of my entire life. I'm even glad I am a little scared. It is delicious to be a trifle afraid. But I'm not, now – very much… Is there any established hour for bedtime in the woods?"

      "Inclination sounds the hour."

      "Isn't that wonderful!" she sighed, her eyes on the fire. "Inclination rules in the forest… And here I am."

      The firelight on her copper-tinted hair masked her lovely eyes in a soft shadow. Her shoulder stirred rhythmically as she breathed.

      "And here you live all alone," she mused, half to herself… "I once saw you pitch a game against Yale… And the next time I saw you walking very busily down Fifth Avenue… And now – you are – here… That is wonderful… Everything seems to be wonderful in this place… Wh-what is that flapping noise, please?"

      "Two herons fighting in the sedge."

      "You know everything… That is the most wonderful of all. And yet you say you are not famous?"

      "Nobody ever heard of me outside the Smithsonian."

      "But – you must become famous. To-morrow I shall look very hard for an ichneumon fly for you – "

      "But your discovery will make you famous, Miss Cassillis – "

      "Why – why, it's for you that I am going to search so hard! Did you suppose I would dream of claiming any of the glory!"

      He said, striving to speak coolly:

      "It is very generous and sweet of you… And, after all, I hardly suppose that you need any added lustre or any additional happiness in a life which must be so full, so complete, and so care-free."

      She was silent for a while, then:

      "Is your life then so full of care, Mr. Jones?"

      "Oh, no," he said; "I get on somehow."

      "Tell me," she insisted.

      "What am I to tell you?"

      "Why it is that your life is care-ridden."

      "But it isn't – "

      "Tell me!"

      He said, gaily enough: "To labour for others is sometimes a little irksome… I am not discontented… Only, if I had means – if I had barely sufficient – there are so many fascinating and exciting lines of independent research to follow – to make a name in – " He broke off with a light laugh, leaned forward and laid another log on the fire.

      "You can not afford it?" she asked, in a low voice; and for the moment astonishment ruled her to discover that this very perfect specimen of intelligent and gifted manhood was struggling under such an amazingly trifling disadvantage. Only from reading and from hearsay had she been even vaguely acquainted with the existence of poverty.

      "No," he said pleasantly, "I can not yet afford myself the happiness of independent research."

      "When СКАЧАТЬ