Part 6

"This is a dangerous lake, Lord Canning," said Mrs. Bunker. "You wouldn't think so, to look at it now."

Lord Canning turned and glanced at the beautiful vista of the lake, sparkling, blue and serene, between the mountains.

"A squall can come up, any minute--a regular tornado--and blow you and your shell of a boat to Jericho."

"And what would you do, Miss Stillwater," asked Lord Canning, in visible alarm, "if you were out in your little canoe, and were caught in one of these sudden squalls?"

"Head for the shore. Besides, I'm a swimmer."

"Are you?" She looked very young to him, standing there in her little, short skirt and loose blouse, her hair blowing about in the breeze, which came freshly over the lake. Younger, even, than when he had first seen her.

"Now, Lord Stafford," said Mrs. Bunker, after breakfast. "You, my daughter, and myself, will take a trip in 'The Indiana.' The horses will be waiting at the landing, and after we have explored the lake, I think we'll have time for a short drive. Will that program suit you?"

"Ha, ha, ha! Everything that you arrange is bound to be delightful, Mrs. Bunker."

"We'll leave the young people to their own devices. Lord Canning is so bent on learning to row an Adirondack boat."

"Ha, ha, ha! Yes, Mrs. Bunker."

"It's a dangerous lake, Lord Stafford--I warned him."

"You did, Mrs. Bunker--your conscience can rest easily."

"I feel I'm taking an advantage, Miss Stillwater," said Lord Canning, lounging comfortably in the bow of Indiana's pet boat, "to sit here and let you do all the work. Let me take the oars. I have been watching you closely--I think you can trust me."

"Sit down!" commanded Indiana.

"Dear me, what have I done?"

"You can't change places in an Adirondack boat, in the middle of the lake. It would tip over, and we'd both flop in." She laughed merrily.

"Her laugh has the vital ring of youth," thought Lord Canning. "I might learn to laugh like that again, if she would teach me--"

"Glen and I have often tried it, just for devilment, but then Glen is more used to these boats than you, Lord Canning--"

"Glen!"

"Oh, I forgot. I think everyone knows Glen--everyone does in America, who happens to know us. He's one of the family."

"A relative?"

"No!"

"Not a relative, and one of the family," thought Lord Canning. "Young, old or middle aged?"

"Glen's only twenty-four and handsome as a picture."

"Only twenty-four, and handsome as a picture," thought Lord Canning.

"Wouldn't you like to smoke, Lord Canning?"

"There's something of the witch about you, Miss Stillwater. That's just what I'm longing to do. You are sure you don't mind?"

Indiana shook her head. Her cheeks were glowing, her eyes sparkling from the exercise.

"That's very good of you, Miss Stillwater." He lit his cigar leisurely, then leaned back with a long sigh of content. "You're a splendid oarswoman, Miss Stillwater; such long, graceful strokes. That splash of color here and there in the woods--it's most effective--especially, when it's reflected in the lake--like this branch--look--we are just nearing it--how gracefully it droops over the water. It's most delightful here--near the shore--let us linger a little while--do you mind? There's no occasion for this terrific speed, is there? That's better--now we are merely gliding. Lean back, Miss Stillwater! Won't you have this pillow? Are you quite comfortable? Are you sure you are quite comfortable? These Adirondack oars are very convenient--just let them swing--I see--and take them up when you are ready. A stroke or two, now and then, will be quite sufficient to send us along--not yet--don't disturb yourself. No, we will not run into anything--I'll see to that--you look very nice lying there. The water is like a perfect mirror here, under the trees--every leaf and twig is reflected--beautiful--so restful--I could drift like this--"

"I thought so," cried Indiana jumping up.

"Dear me, what is the matter?"

"We're caught in a tree!"

"Why so we are--be careful--that branch will strike your face--I think I can reach it--a most obstinate branch--it persists in bending your way. Well, I can't blame it--there--how ever did this occur?"

"Why--you insisted on my leaving everything to you--I yielded from pure amiability--but I foresaw what would happen, because you hadn't the slightest idea where you were drifting."

"But I know quite well, where I'm drifting--"

"Then how were we caught in this tree?"

"Ah, that's another story--"

"You were certainly not looking ahead."

"Then where was I looking? You ought to know."

"You were lying back with your hands clasped behind your head, saying, 'I could go on like this forever,' or something to that effect, and we went plump into the tree."

"Poor Miss Stillwater--I'm a great trial--you'll never take me out again, will you?"

"Well, I won't say that--"

"I'm so glad you didn't. I think it's rather a novel sensation to be caught in a tree."

"Everything is a sensation to you, Lord Canning."

"Ha, ha, ha, ha. When you are my age, Miss Stillwater, you will also appreciate a new sensation. May I ask the object of those violent efforts?"

"Lord Canning--do you realize you're on the tree as well as in it. There's an immense branch extending under the water, and with our combined weight we won't get off in a hurry."

"Where is the hurry--there are no trains to be caught, I believe."

"Yes, but I wanted to show you the lake this morning--that would be something. There is so much for you to do and see."

"Restless little American spirit," said Lord Canning. "Now if you will hand me that oar--although I appreciate your anxiety to show me everything without delay--I, with my slow English methods--prefer to take things by degrees--if you have no objection, Miss Stillwater; I am enjoying this immensely."

"Really," said Indiana doubtfully.

"I give you my word. Now let me have things my own way. There's no necessity to show me the whole lake at once. I would rather prolong the pleasure--"

"We're off!"

"Slowly, Miss Stillwater! we're drifting once more. Ah, look at this giant rock looming above us; how dark and grim--"

"That's called the 'Devil's Pulpit.' The water right here is five hundred feet deep."

"And a moment ago it was quite shallow. How black and impenetrable--'The Devil's Pulpit.' I think I can sniff an odor of sulphur. Five hundred feet deep. How quickly the shallows change to the depths--how quickly--don't hurry--what a gruesome spot. Just the place for a ghost story--that Indian maiden we were talking of this morning--will she do?"

"Well, there was a certain tribe--"

"Pardon me, Miss Stillwater. I forgot that story had already been reserved for the camp fire. Everything in its place."

"How systematic--"

"I don't believe in taking all the good things at once, like a greedy child--besides, poor Scheherezade's head is at stake! I would not deprive her of one night's respite--"

"Suppose you tell me a story, Lord Canning--one of your adventures. You have travelled so much, you must have had a very interesting life."

"Interesting in one way--barren in another. Don't lean over like that, please."

"Your uncle says you have a passion for exploring."

"Yes. I suppose it has never occurred to you, Miss Stillwater, that this passion for exploring, in a man of my settled years--Miss Stillwater, I beg of you to be careful, remember it is five hundred feet. This passion for exploring might exist only for want of another interest--a dear and sacred interest--most men of my age possess. Life has withheld from me, so far--it's most precious gift. I shall hold it the sweeter when bestowed. Do you find it interesting to peer into the depths, Miss Stillwater?"

"Very! They say--"

"Yes, what do they say?"

"That if you look into them long enough, here at the Devil's Pulpit, you are seized with an impulse to throw yourself in."

"Dear me; well, I have no fear for you at present. But I shall take care you do not come here unaccompanied. What you have told me, however, is a fact which has been often proved. Whether it is a rocky precipice, five hundred feet of water, or a human soul--the depths have a dangerous fascination. Are you afraid, Miss Stillwater? Don't you wish to leave this dangerous spot?"

"I want my story, first."

"You will persist in peering into the depths--beware of them!"

"I'm not afraid."

"No, I don't think you are."

"Well, the story."

"Ah, yes--the story--you're in the mood to listen?"

"Yes, yes. Is it to be one of your adventures?"

"Not exactly. I'm not in the mood to relate an adventure. That will keep for another time. This is a charmed spot, you see--as its name would denote--a spell has been laid on me, in the shadow of this rock, and I am obliged to speak the words that come into my head."

"Then I won't consider you responsible."

"No--not here." Lord Canning folded his arms and gazed down into the impenetrable depths. "There was once a weaver. He wove a dull, gray woof--always the same gray woof. Sometimes, he would look up at the rich blue of the morning sky, then go on weaving his gray web. Sometimes, he would glance at the sunset, and marvel at the gorgeous hues of the clouds--but there was never a gleam of color in the web, that he wove--it was always the same, dull gray. Sometimes, the laughing face of a child would peep into his--and he would gaze longingly back--yearning to snatch the blue of the eyes, the gold of the hair--for that colorless web which Fate had set him to weave. Once he dreamed that a sudden burst of sunlight streamed upon him, as he sat at his loom. He put up his hand and drew down the rays one after the other, weaving them into his work. And as he wove, he heard singing--a choir of beautiful, jubilant voices. The web, transformed into a gleaming fabric of light, gladdened the soul of the weaver. Then he awoke, and saw the dull, gray woof in the loom. He went on, patiently weaving the web which Fate had given him. But his soul cherishes the hope--that some day, perhaps, his dream will come true."

*CHAPTER VIII.*

*The World's Rest*

Indiana lay back with closed eyes. Lord Canning's deep, well-modulated voice, soothing her alert faculties into a dream of consciousness. He looked at her as he concluded. The innocence of her face, with its closed eyelids, appealed to him. She looked very childish, lying at the foot of the giant rock. Without any comment, she looked out on the lake. He lit a cigar and smoked it in silence. Both were thinking of the weaver.

"Did you feel that icy breath from the rock, Miss Stillwater?"

Indiana laughed. "We come for that on hot days, and lie in the shade and read. It's always cool here."

"Who is 'we'--may I ask?"

"Glen and I."

"Glen again," thought Lord Canning. "I have an absurd feeling against another having been here with her--another, who is only twenty-four and handsome as a picture--"

Indiana commenced to row.

"Going? Perhaps you are right--this is a dangerous spot."

"People are not so carried away with the Adirondacks at first," ventured Indiana. "But they grow on them after a while."

"Yes," said Lord Canning, studying her attentively. "I find a great many things grow on me in this part of the world. Why do you laugh, Miss Stillwater? Have I said anything amusing? I should like to learn how to laugh like that. Will you teach me?"

Indiana laughed again.

"May I have the first lesson now?"

"Oh, I can't give you any lessons--you must just listen, that's all."

"I see--just listen. It is shallow again--what a beautiful white, sandy bed--how restlessly the minnows dart--here and there--backwards and forwards. They symbolize the activity of your nation, Miss Stillwater. Oh, what a cunning little stair-case cut in the rock--it looks so inviting--I should like to get off and climb it, and sit up there in the trees--may I?"

"No," said Indiana, "there are so many other pretty places, I want to show you."

"But I have a fancy for this--obduracy itself. Well, will you promise to take me here again another day--do promise!"

"I promise," said Indiana.

The sun was long past its meridian, when they reached home. Mrs. Bunker, her daughter and Lord Stafford, were watching from the boat-house balcony. Lord Canning was rowing, without a coat, bareheaded. Indiana, comfortably ensconced in pillows opposite, was employed in spattering water over his face, regardless of his laughing remonstrances. Their voices--Indiana's high-pitched but sweet, mingled with Lord Canning's deep tones--were carried by the clear air over the water.

"Allow me to thank you for a delightful morning, Miss Stillwater," said Lord Canning, ceremoniously, as he helped her from the boat. He stood looking looking back on the lake.

"Are you coming, Lord Canning?" asked Indiana, her foot on the little rustic staircase leading from the dock up into the boat-house.

"One moment, if you please," said Lord Canning, still looking at the lake. "I want to fix firmly in my mind all the details of this delightful morning."

"How slow these Englishmen are," thought Indiana, "and yet--"

"You naughty child," said Mrs. Bunker, beaming on Indiana. "Do you know it's almost two o'clock! Lord Stafford is starving."

"And your mamma is 'worried to death about you,'" said Lord Stafford. "Ha, ha, ha, ha! How am I getting on, Mrs. Bunker?"

"Bravo, Lord Stafford, you are an apt pupil."

"Blame Lord Canning," said Indiana. "He does not like to hurry."

"No, indeed," added Lord Canning in an injured tone.

"He would insist on going in and out all the nooks along the shore."

"Yes, indeed," asserted Lord Canning.

"He persisted in exploring everything. He has such a thirst for information--"

"Naturally," interrupted Lord Canning.

"And of course, when he took the oars, I was powerless. I'm thankful we're home this early."

They all climbed slowly up to the camp.

"Won't you take my arm, Mrs. Stillwater? Your daughter has forbidden me to wear a hat, and has been throwing water on me in the sun, as she wishes me to acquire a certain reddish shade of tan, which prevails here, and which your two guides possess to an enviable degree. She was quite impervious to all my scolding."

"Oh, Indiana always has her own way, Lord Canning."

"Evidently. I was almost obliged to take the oars by force. She wished to row the entire morning, and I thought that was entirely too much."

"Indiana will never give in that she's tired. When she was a child she was the same. She'd play until she dropped asleep on the ground from sheer exhaustion."

"Indeed," said Lord Canning. "Then I was quite right. But we had a very exciting argument--it almost caused a quarrel--and I rather congratulated myself we were in such an isolated spot. I don't wish to convey that Miss Stillwater actually lost her temper--"

"Indiana," interrupted Mrs. Stillwater, reprovingly.

"What do you young folks propose to do this afternoon?" inquired Mrs. Bunker.

"Lord Canning is very anxious to see the Notch," said Indiana. "I thought I'd drive you all over there."

"Your daughter has been describing certain falls, Mrs. Stillwater, whose tremendous power have worn a gorge in the rock, and which supply water-power for this entire region. Most interesting--"

"Oh, a very picturesque spot." said Mrs. Bunker. "Lord Stafford, I'm sure you'll be charmed with it. We must start immediately after lunch--it's a long drive."

"And if Miss Stillwater is to drive, I'm afraid she will be taxing herself too much, after rowing the greater part of the morning."

"Oh, Indiana likes to be always on the go," said Mrs. Stillwater. "I'm afraid she'll wear herself out some day."

"Nonsense, Mary," exclaimed Mrs. Bunker, sharply, "she's as strong as a horse."

"Your granddaughter is athletic," said Lord Canning, "but of a very slender build. It is her nervous activity that keeps her up, rather than strength. On the whole, I prescribe rest this afternoon."

"Then, Indiana," said Mrs. Bunker mildly, "you could show Lord Canning that cunning little brook in the woods, back there--"

"I dearly love little brooks in the woods," said Lord Canning.

"Oh, I can show him that any time," said Indiana, "before breakfast."

"Shall we say to-morrow, before breakfast--can I depend on that?"

"Yes. And this afternoon we'll drive to the High Falls," replied Indiana.

They were still at the table when Haller presented himself. "Be yer goin' ter drive ter the Notch this afternoon? If ye be, it's nigh on ter three o'clock. Yer can't get back fore dark. William's waitin' at the landin'." Mrs. Bunker rose precipitately.

"Get ready, Indiana!"

"I insist on Miss Stillwater resting for ten minutes at least. Don't you agree with me, Mrs. Stillwater?"

"Yes, indeed, Lord Canning. But I can never force Indiana to lie down."

"Well, I will endeavor to see what I can do."

"You will be accomplishing wonders if you can persuade Indiana to do any thing against her will."

"Come, Miss Stillwater. There's a hammock out on the balcony--waiting for you."

"But I must get ready for the drive, Lord Canning."

"Now let me have my way, Miss Stillwater. Ten minutes, more or less, does not count. I don't approve of this rush after meals. This is a wonderful hammock--so comfortable--different from most hammocks. I tried it this morning--simply a piece of canvas stretched flat. I shall take it in my head to sleep out here one fine night. Are you comfortable? Now, Miss Stillwater, you have been very good to take this rest, and I am deeply indebted to you. I shall be still more so if you will try to forget the fact that you are going anywhere. Simply make your mind blank; now, don't raise your head and look at me like that. I mean it--make your mind a blank. Is it impossible for you to keep your eyes shut, Miss Stillwater? Not even for ten minutes--in truth, only eight now. I have a pocket Tennyson--I will read you a few extracts; I always carry some literature about me. In travelling among so many shifting scenes, a thought now and then from a great mind goes largely toward establishing one's equilibrium. By the way, I had this Tennyson with me this morning. I might have read to you on the lake. Still, we did not feel the want of it, did we? Time passed so quickly--almost too quickly. Dear me! 'In Memoriam' is my favorite poem--which is yours, Miss Stillwater?"

"Mine," said Indiana, dreamily. "Let me see--'Evangeline' is very beautiful."

"A charming pastoral--I suppose it would be the favorite poem of a young girl who knows nothing of life--"

Indiana sat up suddenly in the hammock.

"You make a great mistake, Lord Canning. I have travelled all over the United States. I have come in contact with the world. I have a very shrewd idea of life--"

"Lie down, Miss Stillwater, please. That was a very unhappy remark of mine. So you have a very shrewd idea of life. I'm obliged to take your word for it--but, pardon me, you look very young for a person who has such a profound knowledge of the world. Now, don't talk back at me--remember, you are resting. Please shut your eyes--shut them--it's only three minutes now. I forbid you to open them again. Returning to our original subject--'In Memoriam' embodies a philosophy which appeals to me. We must read it together. I suppose you have not given it especial study?"

"No."

"I think such a poem should be read with someone else. I am very familiar with it. I may be able to throw a light on passages that may appear obscure to you, and, perhaps, ultimately succeed in imbuing you with my own love for it. This--

'Oh, yet we trust that somehow good, Will be the final goal of all--'"

"Indiana," called Mrs. Bunker.

She sprung from the hammock.

"Dear me! it isn't--yes, it is--eleven minutes and a half." "Provoking," thought Lord Canning, as Indiana disappeared. "I don't seem to have any time alone with her."

He very soon found himself in the little naptha launch, 'Indiana,' with the rest of the party.

"Isn't this jolly?" said Lord Stafford. "We seem to be always on the go, here."

"Indeed, I'm not going to let you stagnate," replied Mrs. Bunker. "There's a different place to see every day, and when you've seen everything the hunting will commence."

"We couldn't have a nicer day for a drive," remarked Mrs. Stillwater. "It has rained all night, and there won't be any dust."

"Oh, if a storm don't come up while we're out," said Mrs. Bunker. "You never can tell what's behind these mountains. They're always brewing something. Don't you ever let Indiana get you out in that sail-boat--while I think of it, Lord Canning."

"No, Mrs. Bunker, I will not let her get me out in that sail-boat. There, I put my foot down."

"Yes, you will," said Indiana, propping her chin on her hand, "won't you?"

Lord Canning smiled back into her eyes. "Well, perhaps," he said.

"There!" exclaimed Mrs. Bunker. "Indiana makes everyone do as she wishes."

"Have you your Tennyson here, Lord Canning? I should like to look through it."

He gave it to her, and then two heads were soon bent, in a discussion, over the book. Lord Canning started, when they reached their destination, and Haller gave a spring to the dock.

"Already," closing the book, "this has been most interesting, Miss Stillwater. You have a very clear and fresh conception. It's a great pleasure to read with you."

"Oh, Indiana has always distinguished herself in her studies," said Mrs. Stillwater.

"I can believe that," said Lord Canning.

As the ponies sped along with their swift, firm trot, Indiana explained to him the different points of interest in the country.

"Why, Indiana, you're taking the old road--that's the longest," as she made a sudden turn from the highway.

"And the prettiest, Grandma Chazy."

"Well, do as you like. We'll never get home."

"Thinking of home already, Mrs. Bunker. We're just started. This is awfully jolly."

"Well, we'll see how jolly you'll think it, Lord Stafford, when you're kept till nearly nine for your dinner."

"Dear me, is it so serious as that?"

"We follow this all the way," said Indiana, pointing to the narrow stream on whose banks they were driving.

"Charming to hear, that delightful gurgle. I am so fond of the sound of water!"

"A very narrow path," said Lord Stafford, peering over the banks. "One lurch to the right, and we're over."

"The banks are propped with logs," explained Mrs. Bunker. "That is done every spring. The force of the water in winter breaks them down. They're none too safe now, I believe. But Indiana would take this old road!"

"I am so glad you did," murmured Lord Canning. "The continuous perspective of this winding stream is charming."

As they drove on they were surprised now and then by little green islands, very small, sometimes merely clumps of trees.

"Mysterious little islands," said Lord Canning. "So lonely, set here and there in the stream, like little green shrines, for those who wish to pray."

"You have more imagination than many would credit you with, Lord Canning."

"I am not understood by many--I would not care to be--"

"Do be careful, Indiana," said Mrs. Stillwater, as they bounded over a frail bridge built on logs.

"Have no fear, Mrs. Stillwater. Your daughter is managing these ponies admirably--" he added to Indiana--"with those small hands. May I relieve you presently?"

"Thank you--I am not tired. I should fear to trust you. One must know the roads."

Gradually the low musical gurgle of the stream deepened into a more significant undertone. Indiana made a sudden cut to the left and turned out, after crossing a bridge, on another narrow road overlooking a deep ravine. From its depths they still heard the voice of the stream, growing into an angry murmur. After a while, on the right, rose a high, craggy mountain-wall, with sparse foliage growing in its crannies.