A Matter of Interest | Page 7

mania for fossils--now."
"Since when?"
"About an hour ago," I said airily. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that she had flushed up. It pleased me.
"You will soon tire of the experiment," she said with a dangerous smile.
"Oh, I may," I replied indifferently.
She drew back. The movement was scarcely perceptible, but I noticed it, and she knew I did.
The atmosphere was vaguely hostile. One feels such mental conditions and changes instantly. I picked up a chessboard, opened it, set up the pieces with elaborate care, and began to move, first the white, then the black. Miss Holroyd watched me coldly at first, but after a dozen moves she became interested and leaned a shade nearer. I moved a black pawn forward.
"Why do you do that?" said Daisy.
"Because," said I, "the white queen threatens the pawn."
"It was an aggressive move," she insisted.
"Purely defensive," I said. "If her white highness will let the pawn alone, the pawn will let the queen alone.
Miss Holroyd rested her chin on her wrist and gazed steadily at the board. She was flushing furiously, but she held her ground.
"If the white queen doesn't block that pawn, the pawn may become dangerous," she said coldly.
I laughed, and closed up the board with a snap.
"True," I said, "it might even take the queen." After a moment's silence I asked, "What would you do in that case, Miss Holroyd?"
"I should resign," she said serenely; then realizing what she had said, she lost her self- possession for a second, and cried: "No, indeed! I should fight to the bitter end! I mean--"
"What?" I asked, lingering over my revenge.
"I mean," she said slowly, "that your black pawn would never have the chance--never! I should take it immediately."
"I believe you would," said I, smiling; "so we'll call the game yours, and--the pawn captured."
"I don't want it," she exclaimed. "A pawn is worthless."
"Except when it's in the king row."
"Chess is most interesting," she observed sedately. She had completely recovered her self- control. Still I saw that she now had a certain respect for my defensive powers. It was very soothing to me.
"You know," said I gravely, "that I am fonder of Jack than of anybody. That's the reason we never write each other, except to borrow things. I am afraid that when I was a young cub in France I was not an attractive personality."
"On the contrary," said Daisy, smiling, "I thought you were very big and very perfect. I had illusions. I wept often when I went home and remembered that you never took the trouble to speak to me but once."
"I was a cub," I said; "not selfish and brutal, but I didn't understand schoolgirls. I never had any sisters, and I didn't know what to say to very young girls. If I had imagined that you felt hurt--"
"Oh, I did--five years ago. Afterward I laughed at the whole thing."
"Laughed?" I repeated, vaguely disappointed.
"Why, of course. I was very easily hurt when I was a child. I think I have outgrown it."
The soft curve of her sensitive mouth contradicted her.
"Will you forgive me now?" I asked.
"Yes. I had forgotten the whole thing until I met you an hour or so ago."
There was something that had a ring not entirely genuine in this speech. I noticed it, but forgot it the next moment.
"Tiger cubs have stripes," said I. "Selfishness blossoms in the cradle, and prophecy is not difficult. I hope I am not more selfish than my brothers."
"I hope not," she said, smiling.
Presently she rose, touched her hair with the tip of one finger, and walked to the door.
"Good-night," she said, courtesying very low.
"Good-night," said I, opening the door for her to pass.

III.
The sea was a sheet of silver, tinged with pink. The tremendous arch of the sky was all shimmering and glimmering with the promise of the sun. Already the mist above, flecked with clustered clouds, flushed with rose colour and dull gold. I heard the low splash of the waves breaking and curling across the beach. A wandering breeze, fresh and fragrant, blew the curtains of my window. There was the scent of sweet bay in the room, and everywhere the subtile, nameless perfume of the sea.
When at last I stood upon the shore, the air and sea were all aglimmer in a rosy light, deepening to crimson in the zenith. Along the beach I saw a little cove, shelving and all ashine, where shallow waves washed with a mellow sound. Fine as dusted gold the shingle glowed, and the thin film of water rose, receded, crept up again a little higher, and again flowed back, with the Low hiss of snowy foam and gilded bubbles breaking.
I stood a little while quiet, my eyes upon the water, the invitation of the ocean in my ears, vague and sweet as the