when the dinner was ended he made a stroke for the chance that he wanted. "will you show me your boat?" he asked. "i'm a bit of a sailor myself, and i should like to see her very much indeed."
"oh, would you? i am so glad!" she answered eagerly. and then added more quietly: "it is a real pleasure to show you the nixie. i am very fond of her and very proud of her. father gave her to me three years ago—after he sold a lot over in west superior. and it was very good of him, because he does not like sailing at all. will you come now? it is only a step down to the wharf."
the major declared that he must have his after-dinner pipe in comfort, and they went off without him—going out by a side door and[89] across a half-acre of kitchen-garden, still in winter disorder, to the wharf on the bay-side where the nixie was moored. she was a half-decked twenty-foot cat-boat, clean in her lines and with the look of being able to hold her own pretty well in a blow.
"is she not beautiful?" ulrica asked with great pride. and presently, when maltham came to a pause in his praises, she added hesitatingly: "would you—would you care to come out in her for a little while?"
"indeed i would!" he answered instantly and earnestly.
"oh, thank you, thank you!" ulrica exclaimed. "i do want you to see how wonderfully she sails!"
the boat was moored with her stern close to the wharf and with her bow made fast to an outstanding stake. when they had boarded her ulrica cast off the stern mooring, ran the boat out to the stake and made fast with a short hitch, and then—as the boat swung around slowly in the slack air under the land—set about hoisting the sail. she would not permit maltham to help her. he sat aft, steadying the tiller, watching with delight her vigorous dexterity and her display of absolute strength.[90] when she had sheeted home and made fast she cast off the bow mooring, and then stepped aft quickly and took the tiller from his hand. for a few moments they drifted slowly. then the breeze, coming over the tree-tops, caught them and she leaned forward and dropped the centreboard and brought the boat on the wind. it was a leading wind, directly off the lake, that enabled them to make a single leg of it across the bay. as the boat heeled over maltham shifted his seat to the weather side. this brought him a little in front of ulrica, and below her as she stood to steer. from under the bows came a soft hissing and bubbling as the boat slid rapidly along.
"is she not wonderful?" ulrica asked with a glowing enthusiasm. "just see how we are dropping that big sloop over yonder—and the nixie not half her size! but the nixie is well bred, you see, and the sloop is not. she is as heavy all over as the nixie is clean and fine. father says that breeding is everything—in boats and in horses and in men. he says that a gentleman is the finest thing that god ever created. it was because the southerners all were gentlemen that they whipped the yankees, you know."
[91]
"but they didn't—the yankees whipped them."
"only in the last few battles, father says—and those did not count, so far as the principle is concerned," ulrica answered conclusively.
maltham did not see his way to replying to this presentation of the matter and was silent. presently she went on, with a slight air of apology: "i hope you did not mind my looking at you so much while we were at dinner, mr. maltham. you see, except father, you are the only gentleman i ever have had a chance to look at close, that way, in my whole life. father will not have much to do with the people living up in town. most of them are yankees, and he does not like them. none of them ever come to see us. the only people i ever talk with are our neighbours; and they are just common people, you know—though some of them are as good as they can be. and as father always is talking about what a gentleman ought to be or ought not to be it is very interesting really to meet one. that was the reason why i stared at you so. i hope you did not mind."
"i'm glad i interested you, even if it was only as a specimen of a class," maltham answer[92]ed. "i hope that you found me a good specimen." her simplicity was so refreshing that he sought by a leading question to induce a farther exhibition of it. "what is your ideal of a gentleman?" he asked.
"oh, just the ordinary one," she replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "a gentleman must be absolutely brave, and must kill any man who insults him—or, at least, must hurt him badly. he must be absolutely honest—though he is not bound, of course, to tell all that he knows when he is selling a horse. he must be absolutely true to the woman he loves, and must never deceive her in any way. he must not refuse to drink with another gentleman unless he is willing to fight him. he must protect women and children. he must always be courteous—though he may be excused for a little rudeness when he has been drinking and so is not quite himself. he must be hospitable—ready to share his last crust with anybody, and his last drink with anybody of his class. and he must know how to ride and shoot and play the principal games of cards. those are the main things. you are all that, are you not?"
she looked straight at him as she asked this question, speaking still in the same entirely[93] matter-of-fact tone. but maltham did not look straight back at her as he answered it. the creed that she set forth had queer articles in it, but its essentials were searching—so searching that his look was directed rather indefinitely toward the horizon as he replied, a little weakly perhaps: "why, of course."
she seemed to be content with this not wholly conclusive answer; but as he was not content with it himself, and rather dreaded a cross-examination, he somewhat suddenly shifted the talk to a subject that he was sure would engross her thoughts. "how splendidly the nixie goes!" he said. "she is a racer, and no mistake!"
"indeed she is!" ulrica exclaimed, with the fervour upon which he had counted. "she is the very fastest boat on the bay. and then she is so weatherly! why, i can sail her into the very eye of the wind!"
"yes, she has the look of being weatherly. but she wouldn't be if you didn't manage her so well. who taught you how to sail?"
"it was old gustav bergmann—one of the fishermen here on the point, you know. and he said," she went on with a little touch of pride, "that he never could have made such a[94] good sailor of me if i had not had it in my blood—because i am a swede."
"but you are an american."
ulrica did not answer him immediately, and when she did speak it was with the same curiously slow thoughtfulness that he had observed when she was explaining the difference between her father's life and her own life in the solitude of minnesota point.
"i do not think i am," she said. "i do not know many american women, but i am not like any american woman i know. you see, i am very like my mother. father says so, and i feel it—i cannot tell you just how i feel it, but i do. for one thing, i am more than half a savage, father says—like some of the wild indians he has known. he is in fun, of course, when he says that; but he really is right, i am sure. did you ever want to kill anybody, mr. maltham?"
"no," said maltham with a laugh, "i never did. did you?"
ulrica remained grave. "yes," she answered, "and i almost did it, too. you see, it was this way: a man, one of the campers down on the point, was rude to me. he was drunk, i think. but i did not think about[95] his being drunk, and that i ought to make allowances for him. somehow, i had not time to think. everything got red suddenly—and before i knew what i was doing i had out my knife. the man gave a scream—not a cry, but a real scream: he must have been a great coward, i suppose—and jumped away just as i struck at him. i cut his arm a little, i think. but i am not sure, for he ran away as hard as he could run. i was very sorry that i had not killed him. i am very sorry still whenever i think about it. now that was not like an american woman. at least, i do not know any american woman who would try to kill a man that way because she really could not help trying to. do you?"
"no," maltham answered, drawing a quick breath that came close to being a gasp. ulrica's entire placidity, and her argumentative manner, had made her story rather coldly thrilling—and it was quite thrilling enough without those adjuncts, he thought.
she seemed pleased that his answer confirmed her own opinion. "yes, i think i am right about myself," she went on. "i am sure that it is my swedish blood that makes me like that. we do not often get angry, you know,[96] we swedes: but when we do, our anger is rage. we do not think nor reason. suddenly we see red, as i did that day, and we want to strike to kill. it is queer, is it not, that we should be made like that?"
maltham certainly was discovering the strange thoughts that he had set himself to search for. they rather set his nerves on edge. as she uttered her calm reflection upon the oddity of the swedish temperament he shivered a little.
"i am afraid that you are cold," she said anxiously. "shall we go about? father will not like it if i make you uncomfortable."
"i am not at all cold," he answered. "and the sailing is delightful. don't let us go about yet."
"well, if you are quite sure that you are not cold, we will not. i do want to take you down to the inlet and show you what a glorious sea is running on the lake to-day. it is only half a mile more."
they sailed on for a little while in silence. the swift send of the boat through the water seemed so to fill ulrica with delight that she did not care to speak—nor did maltham, who was busied with his own confused thoughts.[97] suddenly some new and startling concepts of manhood and of womanhood had been thrust into his mind. they puzzled him, and he was not at all sure that he liked them. but he was absolutely sure that this curious and very beautiful woman who had uttered them interested him more profoundly than any woman whom ever he had known. that fact also bothered him, and he tried to blink it. that he could not blink it was one reason why his thoughts were confused. presently, being accustomed to slide along the lines of least resistance, he gave up trying. "after all," was his conclusion, so far as he came to a conclusion, "it is only for a day."
