Tales of the Argonauts | Page 7

her as a physical fact-- found herself in the
presence of a new and strange power in the slight and elegant figure
beside her, she was at first frightened and cold. But finding that this
power, against which the weapons of her own physical charms were of
no avail, was a kindly one, albeit general, she fell to worshipping it,
after the fashion of woman, and casting before it the fetishes and other
idols of her youth. She even confessed to it. So that, in half an hour,
Ridgeway was in possession of all the facts connected with her life, and
a great many, I fear, of her fancies--except one. When Mr. McClosky
found the young people thus amicably disposed, he calmly went to
sleep.
It was a pleasant time to each. To Miss Jenny it had the charm of
novelty; and she abandoned herself to it, for that reason, much more
freely and innocently than her companion, who knew something more
of the inevitable logic of the position. I do not think, however, he had
any intention of love-making. I do not think he was at all conscious of
being in the attitude. I am quite positive he would have shrunk from the
suggestion of disloyalty to the one woman whom he admitted to
himself he loved. But, like most poets, he was much more true to an
idea than a fact, and having a very lofty conception of womanhood,
with a very sanguine nature, he saw in each new face the possibilities
of a realization of his ideal. It was, perhaps, an unfortunate thing for the

women, particularly as he brought to each trial a surprising freshness,
which was very deceptive, and quite distinct from the 'blase' familiarity
of the man of gallantry. It was this perennial virginity of the affections
that most endeared him to the best women, who were prone to exercise
toward him a chivalrous protection,--as of one likely to go astray,
unless looked after,--and indulged in the dangerous combination of
sentiment with the highest maternal instincts. It was this quality which
caused Jenny to recognize in him a certain boyishness that required her
womanly care, and even induced her to offer to accompany him to the
cross-roads when the time for his departure arrived. With her superior
knowledge of woodcraft and the locality, she would have kept him
from being lost. I wot not but that she would have protected him from
bears or wolves, but chiefly, I think, from the feline fascinations of
Mame Robinson and Lucy Rance, who might be lying in wait for this
tender young poet. Nor did she cease to be thankful that Providence had,
so to speak, delivered him as a trust into her hands.
It was a lovely night. The moon swung low, and languished softly on
the snowy ridge beyond. There were quaint odors in the still air; and a
strange incense from the woods perfumed their young blood, and
seemed to swoon in their pulses. Small wonder that they lingered on
the white road, that their feet climbed, unwillingly the little hill where
they were to part, and that, when they at last reached it, even the saving
grace of speech seemed to have forsaken them.
For there they stood alone. There was no sound nor motion in earth, or
woods, or heaven. They might have been the one man and woman for
whom this goodly earth that lay at their feet, rimmed with the deepest
azure, was created. And, seeing this, they turned toward each other with
a sudden instinct, and their hands met, and then their lips in one long
kiss.
And then out of the mysterious distance came the sound of voices, and
the sharp clatter of hoofs and wheels, and Jenny slid away--a white
moonbeam--from the hill. For a moment she glimmered through the
trees, and then, reaching the house, passed her sleeping father on the
veranda, and, darting into her bedroom, locked the door, threw open the

window, and, falling on her knees beside it, leaned her hot cheeks upon
her hands, and listened. In a few moments she was rewarded by the
sharp clatter of hoofs on the stony road; but it was only a horseman,
whose dark figure was swiftly lost in the shadows of the lower road. At
another time she might have recognized the man; but her eyes and ears
were now all intent on something else. It came presently with dancing
lights, a musical rattle of harness, a cadence of hoof-beats, that set her
heart to beating in unison--and was gone. A sudden sense of loneliness
came over her; and tears gathered in her sweet eyes.
She arose, and looked around her. There was the little bed, the
dressing-table, the roses that she had worn last night,