Hills of the Shatemuc Part 165

"Yes you did."

"I didn't!" said Elizabeth. "I never thought of such a thing as meeting you."

"Nevertheless, in the regular chain and sequence of events, you went there to meet me -- if you hadn't gone you wouldn't have met me."

"O, if you put it in that way," said Elizabeth, -- "there's no harm in that."

"There is no harm in it at all. Quite the contrary."

"I think it was the prettiest walk I ever took in my life,"

said Elizabeth, -- "before that, I mean," she added blus.h.i.+ng.

"My experience would say, after it," said Winthrop, in an amused tone.

"It was rather a confused walk after that," said Elizabeth. "I never was quite so much surprised."

"You see I had not that disadvantage. I was only -- gratified."

"Why," said Elizabeth, her jealous fear instantly starting again, "you didn't know what my answer would be before you asked me?"

She waited for Winthrop's answer, but none came. Elizabeth could not bear it.

"Did you?" she said, looking round in her eagerness.

He hesitated an instant, and then answered,

"Did _you?_"

Elizabeth had no words. Her face sought the shelter of her sunbonnet again, and she almost felt as if she would have liked to seek the shelter of the earth bodily, by diving down into it. Her brain was swimming. There was a rush of thoughts and ideas, a train of scattered causes and consequences, which then she had no power to set in order; but the rush almost overwhelmed her, and what was wanting, shame added. She was vexed with herself for her jealousy in divining and her impatience in asking foolish questions; and in her vexation was ready to be vexed with Winthrop, -- if she only knew how.

She longed to lay her head down in her hands, but pride kept it up. She rested her chin on one hand and wondered when Winthrop would speak again, -- she could not, -- and what he would say; gazing at the blue bit of water and gay mountain- side, and thinking that she was not giving him a particularly favourable specimen of herself that morning, and vexed out of measure to think it.

Then upon this, a very quietly spoken "Elizabeth!" -- came to her ear. It was the first time Winthrop had called her so; but that was not all. Quietly spoken as it was, there was not only a little inquiry, there was a little amus.e.m.e.nt and a little admonition, in the tone. It stirred Elizabeth to her spirit's depths, but with several feelings; and for the life of her she could not have spoken.

"What is the reason you should hide your face so carefully from me?" he went on presently, much in the same tone. "Mine is open to you -- it isn't fair play."

Elizabeth could have laughed if she had not been afraid of crying. She kept herself hid in her sunbonnet and made no reply.

"Suppose you take that thing off, and let me look at you."

"It shades my face from the sun."

"The cedar trees will do that for you."

"No -- they wouldn't."

And she kept her face steadily fixed upon the opposite sh.o.r.e, only brought straight before her now; thinking to herself that she would carry this point at any rate. But in another minute she was somewhat astounded to find Winthrop's left hand, he was supporting himself carelessly on his right, quietly, very quietly, untying her sunbonnet strings; and then rousing himself, with the other hand he lifted the bonnet from her head. It gave a full view then of hair in very nice order and a face not quite so; for the colour had now flushed to her very temples with more feelings than one, and her eye was downcast, not caring to shew its revelations. She knew that Winthrop took an observation of all, to his heart's content; but she could not look at him for an instant. Then without saying anything, he got up and went off to a little distance where he made himself busy among some of the bushes and vines which were gay with the fall colouring Elizabeth sat drooping her head on her knees, for she could not absolutely hold it up. She looked at her sunbonnet lying on the bank beside her; but it is not an improper use of language to say that she dared not put it on.

"I have met my master now," she thought, and her eyes sparkled, -- "once for all -- if I never did before. -- What a fool I am!"

For she knew, she acknowledged to herself at the same moment, that she did not like him the less for it -- she liked him exceedingly the more; in spite of a twinge of deep mortification about it, and though there was bitter shame that he should know or guess any of her feeling. If her eyes sparkled, they sparkled through tears.

The tears were got rid of, for Winthrop came back and threw himself down again. Then with that he began to put wreaths of the orange and red winterberries and sprays of wych hazel and bits of exquisite ivy, one after the other, into her hands.

Her hands took them mechanically, one after the other. Her eyes buried themselves in them. She wished for her sunbonnet s.h.i.+eld again.

"What do you bring these to me for?" she said rather abruptly.

"Don't you like to have them?" said he, putting into her fingers another magnificent piece of Virginia creeper.

"Yes indeed -- very much -- but --"

"It will be some time before I see you again," said he as he added the last piece of his bunch. "These will be all gone."

"Some time!" said Elizabeth.

"Yes. There is work on my hands down yonder that admits of no delay. I could but just s.n.a.t.c.h time enough to come up here."

"I am very much obliged to you for these!" said Elizabeth, returning to her bunch of brilliant vine branches.

"You can pay me for them in any way you please."

The colour started again, but it was a very gentle, humble, and frank look which she turned round upon him. His was bright enough.

"How soon do you think of coming to Mannahatta?"

"I don't know, --" said Elizabeth, not choosing to say exactly the words that came to her tongue.

"If I could be here too, I should say this is the best place."

"Can't you come often enough?"

"How often would be often _enough?_" said he with an amused look.

"Leave definitions on one side, and please answer me."

"Willingly. I leave the definition on your side. I don't like to speak in the dark."

"Well, can't you come _tolerably_ often?" said Elizabeth colouring.

He smiled.

"Not for some time. My hands are very full just now."

"You contrive to have them so always, don't you?"

"I like to have them so. It is not always my contrivance."

"What has become of that suit -- I don't know the names now -- in which you were engaged two or three years ago -- in which you took so many objections, and the Chancellor allowed them all, against Mr. Brick?"