It was half-past seven, and night was settling over the Lake. Already the pier end was fading, the masts of the two schooners were losing their distinctness against the sky; the ripples had quieted with the dying day-breeze, and now murmured on the sand. The early evening stars were peeping out, looking for their mates in the water below.
On the steps, sober now, and inclined to dreaming as she looked out into the mystery of things, sat Annie. A shadow fell across the beach, – the outline of a broad pair of shoulders, – and she held her breath. The shadow lengthened; the man appeared around the corner of the house. Then, as he came rapidly nearer, she was relieved to see that it was Beveridge.
He was in a cheerful frame of mind as he stepped up and sat beside her. It was pleasant that the peculiar nature of his work should make it advisable to cultivate the acquaintance of an attractive young woman – such a very attractive young woman that he was beginning to think, now and then, of taking her away with him when his work here should be done.
“What do you say to a row on the Lake?” he suggested, after a little.
“I mustn’t go away,” said Annie. “I promised I would be here at eight.”
“But it’s not eight yet,” Beveridge replied. “Let’s walk a little way – you can keep the house in sight, and see when he comes.”
“Well,” doubtfully, “not far.”
They strolled along the beach until Annie turned. “This is far enough.”
“I don’t know whether I can let your Captain come around quite so often,” said he, as they sat down on the dry sand, in the shelter of a clump of willows. “It won’t do – he is too good looking. I should like to know what is to become of the rest of us.”
This amused Annie. They had both been gazing out towards the schooners, and he had read her thoughts. He went on: “You know it’s not really fair. These sailor fellows always get the best of us. He named his schooner after you, didn’t he?”
“Oh, no, I don’t believe so.”
“Sailors and soldiers – it’s the same the world over! There’s no chance for us common fellows when they are about. Tell you what I shall have to do – join the militia and come around in full uniform. Then maybe you would be looking at me, too. I don’t know but what I could even make you forget him.”
She had to laugh at this. “Maybe you could.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t do me any good to try without the uniform, would it?”
She tossed her head now. “So that’s what you think of me – that I care for nothing but clothes?”
“Oh, no, it’s not the clothes. His red shirt would never do it. But it’s the idea of a sailor’s life – there is a sort of glitter about it – he seems pluckier, somehow, than other men. It’s the dash and the grand-stand play that fetches it. I suppose it wouldn’t be a bit of use to tell you that you are too good for him.”
She made no reply, and the conversation halted. Annie gazed pensively out across the water. He watched her, and as the moments slipped away his expression began to change; for he was still a young man, and the witchery of the night was working within him.
“Do you know, I’m pretty nearly mean enough to tell you some things about Dick Smiley. I don’t know but what I’m a little jealous of him.”
She did not turn, or speak.
“I’m afraid it is so. I would hardly talk like this if I were not. I thought I was about girl-proof, – up to now, no one has been able to keep my mind off my work very long at a time, – but you have been playing the mischief with me, this last week or so. It’s no use, Annie. I wouldn’t give three cents for the man that could look at you and keep his head. And when I think of you throwing yourself away on Smiley, just because he’s good-looking and a sailor – you mustn’t do it, that’s all. I have been watching you – ”
“Oh, – you have?”
“Yes, and I think maybe I see some things about you that you don’t see yourself. I wonder if you have thought where a man like Smiley would lead you?” She would have protested at this, but he swept on. “He can never be anything more than he is. He has no head for business, and even if he works hard, he can’t hope to do more than own his schooner. You see, he’s not prepared for anything better; he’s side-tracked. And if you were just a pretty girl and nothing more, – just about the size of these people around you, – I don’t suppose I should say a word; I should know you would never be happy anywhere else. Why, Annie, do you suppose there’s a girl anywhere else on the shore of Lake Michigan – on the whole five Lakes – living among fishermen and sailors, as you do, that could put on a dress the way you have put that one on, that could wear it the way you’re wearing it now?
“Oh, I know the difference, and I don’t like to stand by and let you throw yourself away. You see, Annie, I haven’t known you very long, but it has been long enough to make it impossible to forget you. I haven’t any more than made my start, but I’m sure I am headed right, and if I could tell you the chance there is ahead of me to do something big, maybe you would understand why I believe I’m going to be able to offer you the kind of life you ought to have – the kind you were made for. I don’t want to climb up alone. I want some one with me – some one to help me make it. You may think this is sudden – and you would be right. It is sudden. I have felt a little important about my work, I’m afraid, for I really have been doing well. But ever since you just looked at me with those eyes of yours, the whole business has gone upside down. Don’t blame me for talking out this way. It’s your fault for being what you are. I expect to finish up my work here pretty soon now, and then I ‘ll have to go away, and there’s no telling where I ‘ll be.”
Annie was puzzled.
“Oh, you finish so soon? It is only September now.”
“I have to move on when the work is done, you know. I obey orders.”
“But I thought you were a student, Mr. Beveridge?”
He hesitated; he had said too much. Chagrined, he rose, without a word, at her “Come, I must go back now,” and returned with her to the house. And when they were approaching the steps, he was just angry enough with himself to blunder again.
“Wait, Annie. I see you don’t understand me. But there is one thing you can understand. I want to go away knowing that you aren’t going to encourage Smiley any longer. You can promise me that much. I don’t want to talk against him; but I can tell you he’s not the man for you; he’s not even the man you think he is. Some day I will explain it all. Promise me that you won’t.”
But she hurried on resolutely toward the house, and there was nothing to do but follow. “Will you take my word for it, Annie, – that you ‘ll do best to let him alone?”
She shook her head and hurried along.
On the steps sat a gloomy figure – Dick, in his Sunday clothes, white shirt and collar, red necktie, and all. His elbows rested on his knees, his chin rested on his hands, and the darkness of the great black Lake was in his soul. He watched the approaching figures without raising his head; he saw Beveridge lift his hat and turn away toward the bank; he let Annie come forward alone without speaking to her.
She put one foot on the bottom step, and nodded up at him. “Here I am, Dick. Do you want to sit here or – or walk?”
He got up, and came slowly down to the sand.
“So this is the way you treat me, Annie?”
“I’m not late, am I, Dick? It can’t be much after eight.”
“So you go walking with him, when – when – ”
“Now, Dick, don’t be foolish. Mr. Beveridge came around early, and wanted me to walk, and – and I told him I couldn’t stay away – ”
She was not quite her usual sprightly self; and the manner of this speech was