The Captain of the Gray-Horse Troop. Garland Hamlin
up!" cried Jennie, and led the woman out into the safe harbor of the sitting-room.
After they had lighted their cigars, Lawson said privately to Curtis: "Now there's a girl with too much moral purpose – just as Elsie is spoiled by too little. However, I prefer a wholesome pagan to a morbid Christian."
"It's rather curious," Curtis replied. "Miss Colson is a pretty girl – a very pretty girl; but I can't quite imagine a man being in love with her. What could you do with such inexorable moral purpose? You couldn't put your arm round it, could you?"
"You'd have to hang her up by a string, like one of these toy angels the Dutch put atop their Christmas-trees. The Tetongs fairly dread to see her coming – they think she's deranged."
"I know it – the children go to her with reluctance; she doesn't seem wholesome to them, as Miss Diehl does. And yet I can't discharge her."
"Naturally not! You'd hear from the missionary world. Think of it! 'I find Miss Colson too pious, please take her away.'" Both men laughed at the absurdity of this, and Lawson went on: "I wished a dozen times during dinner that Elsie Bee Bee had been present. It would have given her a jolt to come in contact with such inartistic, unshakable convictions."
"She would have been here, only her resentment towards me is still very strong."
"She has it in for you, sure thing. I can't budge her," said Lawson, smiling. "She's going to have you removed the moment she reaches Washington."
"I have moments when I think I'd like to be removed," said Curtis, as he turned towards Mr. Slicer and his other guests. "Suppose we go into the library, gentlemen."
VI
CURTIS SEEKS A TRUCE
"Our artists are going to flit," remarked Jennie, one evening, as they were taking seats at luncheon.
He looked up quickly. "Are they?"
"Yes, Miss Brisbane is going back to Washington, and Mr. Lawson will follow, no doubt."
He unfolded his napkin with unmoved countenance. "Well, they are wise; we are likely to have a norther any day now."
The soldier had all the responsibilities and perplexities he could master without the addition of Elsie Brisbane's disturbing lure. The value of her good opinion was enormously enhanced by the news of her intended departure, and for a day or two Curtis went about his duties with absent-minded ineffectiveness; he even detected himself once or twice sitting with his pen in his hand creating aimless markings on his blotting-pad. Wilson, the clerk, on one occasion waited full five minutes for an answer while his chief debated with himself whether to call upon Miss Brisbane at the studio or at the house. He began to find excuses for her – "A man who is a villain in business may be a very attractive citizen in private life – and she may have been very fond of Sennett. From her point of view – anyhow, she is a lovely young girl, and it is absurd to place her among my enemies." The thought of her face set in bitter scorn against him caused his heart to contract painfully. "I've been too harsh. These people are repugnant to one so dainty and superrefined. There are excuses for her prejudice. I can't let her go away in anger." And in this humble mood he stopped at the door of her studio one morning, prepared to be very patient and very persuasive.
"Good-morning, Miss Brisbane. May I come in?"
"Certainly, if my work will interest you," she replied; "you'll excuse my going on. I want to finish this portrait of Little Peta to-day."
"By all means – I do not intend to interrupt." He took a seat to the front and a little to the left of her, and sat in silence for a few moments. Her brown hair, piled loosely on her head, brought out the exquisite fairness of her complexion, and the big, loose sleeve of her blouse made her hand seem like a child's, but it was strong and steady. She was working with her whole mind, breathing quickly as she mixed her colors, holding her breath as she put her brush against the canvas. She used the apparently aimless yet secure movement of the born painter. With half-closed eyes and head a little to one side, with small hand lifted to measure and compare, she took on a new expression, a bewitching intentness, which quite transformed her.
"I hear you are going away," said Curtis at last, speaking with some effort, uncertain of her temper.
"Yes, we break up and vacate to-morrow."
"Why break up? You will want to come back next spring. Leave the place as it is."
She gave him a quick, keen glance, and put her head again on one side to squint.
"I have no intention of returning."
"Have you exhausted Indian subjects?"
"Oh no!" she exclaimed, with sudden, artistic enthusiasm. "I have just begun to see what I want to do."
"Then why not come back?" She did not reply, and he resumed, with tender gravity: "I hope I haven't made it so unpleasant for you that you are running away to escape me?"
She turned with a sharp word on her tongue, but he was so frank and so handsome, and withal so humble, that she instantly relented. She was used to this humility in men and knew the meaning thereof, and a flush of gratified pride rose to her face. The proud soldier had become a suitor like the others.
"Oh no – you have nothing to do with it," she replied, carelessly.
"I am glad of that. I was afraid you might think me unsympathetic, but I am not. I am here this morning to offer you my cordial assistance, for I am eager to see this people put into art. So far as I know, they have never been adequately treated in painting or in sculpture."
"Thank you," she said, "I don't think I shall go very far with them. They are very pleasant on canvas, but there are too many disagreeable things connected with painting them. I don't see how you endure the thought of living here among them." She shuddered. "I hate them!"
"I don't understand that hardness in you, Miss Brisbane," he replied.
"I'm sure it isn't mysterious. I hate dirt and rags, even when painted. Now Little Peta here is quite different. She is a dear little thing. See her sigh – she gets so tired, but she's patient."
"You are making a beautiful picture of her. Your skill is marvellous." His method of approach was more adroit than he realized; she softened yet again.
"Thank you. I seem to have hit her off very well."
"Will you exhibit in Washington this winter?" he asked, with boyish eagerness.
"I may – I haven't quite decided," she said, quite off guard at last.
"If you do I wish you would let me know. I may be able to visit the exhibition and witness your triumph."
She began to suspect his motives. "Oh, my little row of paintings couldn't be tortured into a triumph. I've stolen the time for them from Mr. Lawson, whose illustrations I have neglected." She was again cold and repellent.
"Miss Brisbane, this whole situation has become intolerable to me." He rose and faced her, very sincere and deeply earnest. "I do not like to have you go away carrying an unpleasant impression of me. What can I do to change it? If I have been boorish or presuming in any way I sincerely beg your pardon."
She motioned to Peta. "You can go now, dear, I've done all I can to-day."
Curtis took up his hat. "I hope I have not broken up your sitting. It would be unpardonable in me."
She squinted back at the picture with professional gravity. "Oh no; I only had a few touches to put in under the chin – that luminous shadow is so hard to get. I'm quite finished."
She went behind a screen for a few moments, and when she reappeared without her brushes and her blouse she was the society young lady in tone and manner.
"Would you like to look at my sketches?" she asked. "They're jolly rubbish, the whole lot, but they represent a deal of enthusiasm."
Her tone was friendly – too friendly, considering the point at which he had paused, and he was a little hurt by it. Was she playing with him?
His tone was firm and his manner direct as he said: "Miss Brisbane, I am accustomed to deal directly