One Days Courtship | Page 4

Robert Barr
have answered me. What have I done, I wonder?
It must be something terrible and utterly unforgivable, whatever it is.
Great heavens!" he murmured, aghast at the thought, "I hope that girl

isn't going up to the Shawenegan Falls."
Trenton was no ladies' man. The presence of women always
disconcerted him, and made him feel awkward and boorish. He had
been too much of a student in higher art to acquire the smaller art of the
drawing-room. He felt ill at ease in society, and seemed to have a fatal
predilection for saying the wrong thing, and suffered the torture
afterwards of remembering what the right thing would have been.
Trenton stood at the gate for a moment, hoping Mason would come.
Suddenly he remembered with confusion that he was directly in range
of those disdainful eyes in the parlour, and he beat a hasty retreat
toward the old mill that stood by the falls. The roar of the turbulent
water over the granite rocks had a soothing effect on the soul of the
man who knew he was a criminal, yet could not for the life of him tell
what his crime had been. Then he wandered up the river-bank toward
where he saw the two half-breeds placing the canoe in the still water at
the further end of the village. Half-way there he was relieved to meet
the genial Ed. Mason, who greeted him, as Trenton thought, with a
somewhat overwrought effusion. There evidently was something on the
genial Ed.'s mind.
"Hello, old man," he cried, shaking Trenton warmly by the hand. "Been
here long? Well, I declare, I'm glad to see you. Going to have a
splendid day for it, aren't you? Yes, sir, I am glad to see you."
"When a man says that twice in one breath, a fellow begins to doubt
him. Now, you good-natured humbug, what's the matter? What have I
done? How did you find me out? Who turned Queen's evidence? Look
here, Edward Mason, why are you not glad to see me?"
"Nonsense; you know I am. No one could be more welcome. By the
way, my wife's here. You never met her, I think?"
"I saw a young lady remarkably----"
"No, no; that is Miss ---- By the way, Trenton, I want you to do me a
favour, now that I think of it. Of course the canoe is yours for to-day,

but that young woman wants to go up to the Shawenegan. You
wouldn't mind her going up with you, would you? You see, I have no
other canoe to-day, and she can't stay till to-morrow."
"I shall be delighted, I'm sure," answered Trenton. But he didn't look it.

CHAPTER II.
Eva Sommerton, of Boston, knew that she lived in the right portion of
that justly celebrated city, and this knowledge was evident in the poise
of her queenly head, and in every movement of her graceful form.
Blundering foreigners--foreigners as far as Boston is concerned,
although they may be citizens of the United States--considered Boston
to be a large city, with commerce and railroads and busy streets and
enterprising newspapers, but the true Bostonian knows that this view is
very incorrect. The real Boston is penetrated by no railroads. Even the
jingle of the street-car bell does not disturb the silence of the streets of
this select city. It is to the ordinary Boston what the empty,
out-of-season London is to the rest of the busy metropolis. The stranger,
jostled by the throng, may not notice that London is empty, but his
lordship, if he happens during the deserted period to pass through,
knows there is not a soul in town.
Miss Sommerton had many delusions, but fortunately for her peace of
mind she had never yet met a candid friend with courage enough to tell
her so. It would have required more bravery than the ordinary society
person possesses to tell Miss Sommerton about any of her faults. The
young gentlemen of her acquaintance claimed that she had no faults,
and if her lady friends thought otherwise, they reserved the expression
of such opinions for social gatherings not graced by the presence of
Miss Sommerton.
Eva Sommerton thought she was not proud, or if there was any tinge of
pride in her character, it was pride of the necessary and proper sort.
She also possessed the vain belief that true merit was the one essential,

but if true merit had had the misfortune to be presented to Miss
Sommerton without an introduction of a strictly unimpeachable nature,
there is every reason to fear true merit would not have had the exquisite
privilege of basking in the smiles of that young Bostonian. But perhaps
her chief delusion was the belief that she was an artist. She had learned
all that
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