"Indeed yes--what is the use of your telling me all sorts of things in Greek, if you do not tell me what they mean?"
"Yes--you will promise not to be offended?"
"Of course," said Mrs. G.o.ddard; then blushing a little she added, "it is quite--I mean--quite the sort of thing, is not it?"
"Oh quite," said John, blushing too, but looking grave for a moment. Then he repeated the English translation of the verses which, as they were certainly not so good as the original, may be omitted here. They set forth that in the vault of the world"s night a new star had appeared which men had not yet named, nor would be likely to name until the power of human speech should be considerably increased, and the verses dwelt upon the theme, turning it and revolving it in several ways, finally declaring that the far-darting sun must look out for his interests unless he meant to be outshone by the new star. Translated into English there was nothing very remarkable about the performance though the original Greek ode was undoubtedly very good of its kind. But Mrs. G.o.ddard was determined to be pleased.
"I think it is charming," she said, when John had reached the end and paused for her criticism.
"The Greek is very much better," said John doubtfully. "I cannot write English verses--they seem to me so much harder."
"I daresay," said Mrs. G.o.ddard. "But did you really write that when--" she stopped not knowing exactly how to express herself. But John had his answer ready.
"Oh, I wrote ever so many," he said, "and I have got them all at Cambridge. But that is the only one I quite remember. I wrote them just after the day when I waked up Muggins--the only time I had seen you till now. I think I could--"
"How funny it seems," said Mrs. G.o.ddard, "without knowing a person, to write verses to them! How did you manage to do it?"
"I was going to say that I think--I am quite sure--I could write much better things to you now."
"Oh, that is impossible--quite absurd, Mr. Short," said Mrs. G.o.ddard, laughing more gaily than usual.
"Why?" asked John, somewhat emboldened by his success. "I do not see why, if one has an ideal, you know, one should not understand it much better when one comes near to it."
"Yes--but--how can I possibly be your ideal?" She felt herself so much older than John that she thought it was out of the question to be annoyed; so she treated him in a matter of fact way, and was really amused at his talk.
"I don"t see why not," answered John stoutly. "You might be any man"s ideal."
"Oh, really--" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs. G.o.ddard, somewhat startled at the force of the sweeping compliment. To be told point-blank, even by an enthusiastic youth of one and twenty, that one is the ideal woman, must be either very pleasant or very startling.
"Excuse me," she said quickly, before he could answer her, "you know of course I am very ignorant--yes I am--but will you please tell me what is an "ideal"?"
"Why--yes," said John, "it is very easy. Ideal comes from idea. Plato meant, by the idea, the perfect model--well, do you see?"
"Not exactly," said Mrs. G.o.ddard.
"It is very simple. When I, when anybody, says you are the ideal woman, it is meant that you are the perfect model, the archetype of a woman."
"Yes--but that is absurd," said his companion rather coldly.
"I am sorry that it should seem absurd," said John in a persuasive tone; "it seems very natural to me. A man thinks for a long time about everything that most attracts him and then, on a sudden, he sees it all before him, quite real and alive, and then he says he has realised his ideal. But you liked the verses, Mrs. G.o.ddard?" he added quickly, hoping to bring back the smile that had vanished from her face. He had a strong impression that he had been a little too familiar. Probably Mrs. G.o.ddard thought so too.
"Oh yes, I think they are very nice," she answered. But the smile did not come back. She was not displeased, but she was not pleased either; she was wondering how far this boy would go if she would let him. John, however, felt unpleasantly doubtful about what he had done.
"I hope you are not displeased," he said.
"Oh, not in the least," said she. "Shall we go to the park and skate?"
"I am not sure that I will skate to-day," said John, foolishly. Mrs.
G.o.ddard looked at him in unfeigned surprise.
"Why not? I thought it was for that--"
"Oh, of course," said John quickly. "Only it is not very amusing to skate when Mr. Juxon is pushing you about in a chair."
"Really--why should not he push me about, if I like it?"
"If you like it--that is different," answered John impatiently.
Mrs. G.o.ddard began to think that John was very like a spoiled child, and she resented his evident wish to monopolise her society. She left the room to get ready for the walk, vaguely wishing that he had not come.
"I have made a fool of myself again," said John to himself, when he was left alone; and he suddenly wished he could get out of the house without seeing her again. But before he had done wishing, she returned.
"Where is Miss Nellie?" he asked gloomily, as they walked down the path.
"I hope she is coming too."
"She went up to the pond with Mr. Juxon, just before you came."
"Do you let her go about like that, without you?" asked John severely.
"Why not? Really, Mr. Short," said Mrs. G.o.ddard, glancing up at his face, "either you dislike Mr. Juxon very much, or else I think you take a good deal upon yourself in remarking--in this way--"
She was naturally a little timid, but John"s youth and what she considered as his extraordinary presumption inspired her with courage to protest. The effect upon John was instantaneous.
"Pray forgive me," he said humbly, "I am very silly. I daresay you are quite right and I do not like Mr. Juxon. Not that I have the smallest reason for not liking him," he continued quickly, "it is a mere personal antipathy, a mere idea, I daresay--very foolish of me."
"It is very foolish to take unreasonable dislikes to people one knows nothing about," she said quietly. "Will you please open the gate?" They were standing before the bars, but John was so much disturbed in mind that he stood still, quite forgetting to raise the long iron latch.
"Dear me--I beg your pardon--I cannot imagine what I was thinking of," he said, making the most idiotic excuse current in English idiom.
"Nor I," said Mrs. G.o.ddard, with a little laugh, as he held the gate back for her to pa.s.s. It was a plain white gate with stone pillars, and there was no gatehouse. People who came to the Hall were expected to open it for themselves. Mrs. G.o.ddard was so much amused at John"s absence of mind that her good humour returned, and he felt that since that object was attained he no longer regretted his folly in the least. The cloud that had darkened the horizon of his romance had pa.s.sed quickly away, and once more he said inwardly that he was enjoying the happiest days of his life.
If for a moment the image of Mr. Juxon entered the field of his imaginative vision in the act of pushing Mrs. G.o.ddard"s chair upon the ice, he mentally e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed "bother the squire!" as he had done upon the previous night, and soon forgot all about him. The way through the park was long, the morning was delightful and Mrs. G.o.ddard did not seem to be in a hurry.
"I wish the winter would last for ever," he said presently.
"So do I," answered his companion, "it is the pleasantest time of the year. One does not feel that nature is dead because one is sure she will very soon be alive again."
"That is a charming idea," said John, "one might make a good subject of it."
"It is a little old, perhaps. I think I have heard it before--have not you?"
"All good ideas are old. The older the better," said John confidently.
Mrs. G.o.ddard could not resist the temptation of teazing him a little.
They had grown very intimate in forty-eight hours; it had taken six months for Mr. Juxon to reach the point John had won in two days.
"Are they?" she asked quietly. "Is that the reason you selected me for the "idea" of your ode, which you explained to me?"
"You?" said John in astonishment. Then he laughed. "Why, you are not any older than I am!"