In Search of the Unknown | Page 8

strolled out into the parlor, still laughing.
The pretty nurse was there, sewing under a hanging lamp.
"If I am not indiscreet--" I began.
"Indiscretion is the better part of valor," said she, dropping her head but
raising her eyes.
So I sat down with a frivolous smile peculiar to the appreciated.
"Doubtless," said I, "you are hemming a 'kerchief."
"Doubtless I am not," she said; "this is a night-cap for Mr. Halyard."
A mental vision of Halyard in a night-cap, very mad, nearly set me
laughing again.
"Like the King of Yvetot, he wears his crown in bed," I said, flippantly.
"The King of Yvetot might have made that remark," she observed,
re-threading her needle.
It is unpleasant to be reproved. How large and red and hot a man's ears

feel.
To cool them, I strolled out to the porch; and, after a while, the pretty
nurse came out, too, and sat down in a chair not far away. She probably
regretted her lost opportunity to be flirted with.
"I have so little company--it is a great relief to see somebody from the
world," she said. "If you can be agreeable, I wish you would."
The idea that she had come out to see me was so agreeable that I
remained speechless until she said: "Do tell me what people are doing
in New York."
So I seated myself on the steps and talked about the portion of the
world inhabited by me, while she sat sewing in the dull light that
straggled out from the parlor windows.
She had a certain coquetry of her own, using the usual methods with an
individuality that was certainly fetching. For instance, when she lost
her needle--and, another time, when we both, on hands and knees,
hunted for her thimble.
However, directions for these pastimes may be found in contemporary
classics.
I was as entertaining as I could be--perhaps not quite as entertaining as
a young man usually thinks he is. However, we got on very well
together until I asked her tenderly who the harbor-master might be,
whom they all discussed so mysteriously.
"I do not care to speak about it," she said, with a primness of which I
had not suspected her capable.
Of course I could scarcely pursue the subject after that--and, indeed, I
did not intend to--so I began to tell her how I fancied I had seen a man
on the cliff that afternoon, and how the creature slid over the sheer rock
like a snake.

To my amazement, she asked me to kindly discontinue the account of
my adventures, in an icy tone, which left no room for protest.
"It was only a sea-otter," I tried to explain, thinking perhaps she did not
care for snake stories.
But the explanation did not appear to interest her, and I was mortified
to observe that my impression upon her was anything but pleasant.
"She doesn't seem to like me and my stories," thought I, "but she is too
young, perhaps, to appreciate them."
So I forgave her--for she was even prettier than I had thought her at
first--and I took my leave, saying that Mr. Halyard would doubtless
direct me to my room.
Halyard was in his library, cleaning a revolver, when I entered.
"Your room is next to mine," he said; "pleasant dreams, and kindly
refrain from snoring."
"May I venture an absurd hope that you will do the same!" I replied,
politely.
That maddened him, so I hastily withdrew.
I had been asleep for at least two hours when a movement by my
bedside and a light in my eyes awakened me. I sat bolt upright in bed,
blinking at Halyard, who, clad in a dressing-gown and wearing a
night-cap, had wheeled himself into my room with one hand, while
with the other he solemnly waved a candle over my head.
"I'm so cursed lonely," he said--"come, there's a good fellow--talk to
me in your own original, impudent way."
I objected strenuously, but he looked so worn and thin, so lonely and
bad-tempered, so lovelessly grotesque, that I got out of bed and passed
a spongeful of cold water over my head.

Then I returned to bed and propped the pillows up for a back-rest,
ready to quarrel with him if it might bring some little pleasure into his
morbid existence.
"No," he said, amiably, "I'm too worried to quarrel, but I'm much
obliged for your kindly offer. I want to tell you something."
"What?" I asked, suspiciously.
"I want to ask you if you ever saw a man with gills like a fish?"
"Gills?" I repeated.
"Yes, gills! Did you?"
"No," I replied, angrily, "and neither did you."
"No, I never did," he said, in a curiously placid voice, "but there's a
man with gills like a fish