PAULINE AWAKENS.
In the last week of March came a succession of warm rains.The leaves burst from their impatient hiding just within the cracks in the gray bark.And on Monday the unclouded sun was irradiating a pale green world from a pale blue sky.The four windows of Pauline and Olivia's sitting-room were up; a warm, scented wind was blowing this way and that the strays of Pauline's red-brown hair as she sat at the table, her eyes on a book, her thoughts on a letter--Dumont's first letter on landing in America.A knock, and she frowned slightly.
"Come!" she cried, her expression slowly veering toward welcome.
The door swung back and in came Scarborough.Not the awkward youth of last October, but still unable wholly to conceal how much at a disadvantage he felt before the woman he particularly wished to please.
"Yes--I'm ten minutes early," he said, apology in his tone for his instinct told him that he was interrupting, and he had too little vanity to see that the interruption was agreeable."But I thought you'd be only reading a novel."For answer she held up the book which lay before her--a solemn volume in light brown calf.
"Analytical geometry," he said; "and on the first day of the finest spring the world ever saw!" He was at the window, looking out longingly--sunshine, and soft air washed clean by the rains; the new-born leaves and buds; the pioneer birds and flowers."Let's go for a walk.We can do the Vergil to-night.""YOU--talking of neglecting WORK!" Her smile seemed to him to sparkle as much in the waves of her hair as in her even white teeth and gold-brown eyes."So you're human, just like the rest of us.""Human!" He glanced at her and instantly glanced away.
"Do leave that window," she begged."We must get the Vergil now.I'm reading an essay at the society to-night--they've fined me twice for neglecting it.But if you stand there reminding me of what's going on outside I'll not be able to resist.""How this would look from Indian Rock!"
She flung open a Vergil text-book with a relentless shake of the head."I've got the place.Book three, line two forty-five--"`Una in praecelsa consedit rupe Celaeno----' ""It doesn't matter what that hideous old Harpy howled at the pious Aeneas," he grumbled."Let's go out and watch the Great God Pan dedicate his brand-new temple.""Do sit there!" She pointed a slim white forefinger at the chair at the opposite side of the table--the side nearer him.
"I'll be generous and work the dictionary to-day." And she opened a fat, black, dull-looking book beside the Vergil.
"Where's the Johnnie?" he asked, reluctantly dropping into the chair.
She laid Dryden's translation of the Aeneid on his side of the table.They always read the poetical version before they began to translate for the class-room--Dryden was near enough to the original to give them its spirit, far enough to quiet their consciences."Find the place yourself," said she."I'm not going to do everything."He opened the Dryden and languidly turned the pages."`At length rebuff'd, they leave their mangled----' " he began.
"No--two or three lines farther down," she interrupted."That was in the last lesson."He pushed back the rebellious lock that insisted on falling down the middle of his forehead, plunged his elbows fiercely upon the table, put his fists against his temples, and began again:
"`High on a craggy cliff Celaeno sate And thus her dismal errand did relate--'
Have you got the place in the Latin?" he interrupted himself.
Fortunately he did not look up, for she was watching the waving boughs."Yes," she replied, hastily returning to the book.
"You do your part and I'll do mine."
He read a few lines in an absent-minded sing-song, then interrupted himself once more: "Did you ever smell anything like that breeze?""Never.`Bellum etiam pro caede bovum'--go on--I'm listening--or trying to."He read:
"`But know that ere your promised walls you build, My curse shall severely be fulfilled.
Fierce famine is your lot--for this misdeed, Reduced to grind the plates on which you feed.' "He glanced at her.She was leaning on her elbow, obviously weaving day-dreams round those boughs as they trembled with the ecstasy of spring.
"You are happy to-day?" he said.
"Yes--happier than I have been for a year." She smiled mysteriously."I've had good news." She turned abruptly, looked him in the eyes with that frank, clear expression--his favorite among his memory-pictures of her had it."There's one thing that worries me--it's never off my mind longer than a few minutes.And when I'm blue, as I usually am on rainy days, it makes me--horribly uncomfortable.I've often almost asked your advice about it.""If you'd be sorry afterward that you told me," said he, "Ihope you won't.But if I can help you, you know how glad I'd be.""It's no use to tell Olivia," Pauline went on."She's bitterly prejudiced.But ever since the first month I knew you, I felt that I could trust you, that you were a real friend.And you're so fair in judging people and things."His eyes twinkled.
"I'm afraid I'd tilt the scales--just a little--where you were concerned.""Oh, I want you to do that," she answered with a smile."Last fall I did something--well, it was foolish, though I wouldn't admit that to any one else.I was carried away by an impulse.
Not that I regret.In the only really important way, I wouldn't undo it if I could--I think." Those last two words came absently, as if she were debating the matter with herself.
"If it's done and can't be undone," he said cheerfully, "Idon't see that advice is needed."
