"I never was, in feeling. I never was in an embarra.s.sment of riches, either. I can"t help you!"
"But these are yours, Rowland. What are you talking of?"
"Are you going to make me a present of the whole?" said Mr. Rhys, stooping down for a grape.
"No, Mr. Esthwaite has done that. The embarra.s.sment is yours."
"I am in no embarra.s.sment; you are mistaken. By what right do you say that Mr. Esthwaite has sent these to me?"
"Because he sent them to me," said Eleanor. "It is the same thing."
"That is dutiful, and loyal, and all that sort of thing," said Mr.
Rhys, helping himself to another grape, and looking with his keen eyes and imperturbable gravity at Eleanor. Perhaps _he_ liked to see the scarlet bloom he could so easily call up in her cheeks, which was now accompanied with a little impatient glance at him. "Nevertheless, I do not consider myself to be within the scope of the gift. The disposition of it remains with you. I do not like the responsibilities of other people"s wealth to rest on my shoulders."
"But this fruit is different from what we have on the island; is there not something you would like to have done with it?"
"I should like you to give me one bunch of grapes--to be chosen by yourself."
He looked on, with a satisfied expression of face, while Eleanor"s fingers separated and overhauled the fruit till she had got a bunch to her mind; and stood still in his place to let her bring it to him. Then took possession of her and the grapes at once, neglecting the latter however entirely, to consider her.
"What would you like to have done with the rest, Rowland?" said Eleanor, while her face glowed under his caresses and examination.
"This is a very becoming dress you have on!"
"I did not know you noticed ladies" dresses."
"I always notice my own."
Eleanor"s head drooped a little, to hide the rush of pleasure and shame.
"But, Rowland," she said with gentle persistence, "what _would_ you like to have done with that basket? Isn"t there some meaning behind your words about it?"
"What makes you think so?" said he, curling the corners of his mouth in an amused way.
"I thought so. Please tell it me! You have something to tell me."
"The fruit is yours, Eleanor."
"And what am I?"
The tears came into her eyes with a little vexed earnestness, for she fancied that Mr. Rhys would not speak _because_ the fruit was hers. His manner changed again, to the deep tenderness which he had shewn so frequently; holding her close and looking down into her face; not answering at once; half enjoying, half soothing, the feeling he had raised.
"Eleanor," he said, "I do not want that fruit."
"Tell me what to do with it."
"If you like to send some of those grapes to sister Balliol, at the other house, I think they would do a great deal of good."
"I will just take out a few for you, and I will send the whole basket over there just as it is. Is there anybody to take it?"
"Do not save any for me."
"Why not?"
"Because I do not want anything more than I have got."
"I suppose I may do about that as I please?" said Eleanor, laughing a little.
"No--you may not. I only want this bunch that I have in my hand, for a poor sick fellow whom I think they will comfort. If you feel as I do, and like to send the rest over to the mission house, I think they will be well and gratefully used."
"But Rowland, why did you not tell me that just at first?" she said a little wistfully.
"Do you feel as I do? Tell me that first."
But as Eleanor was not ready with her answer to this question, of course her own got the go-by. Mr. Rhys laughed at her a little, and then told her she might get the house ready for dinner. Very much Eleanor wished she could rather get the dinner ready for the house; yet somehow she had an instinctive knowledge that it would be no use to ask him; and she had a curious unwillingness to make the request.
"Do you know," she said, looking up in his face, "I do not know how it is, but you are the only person I ever was afraid of, where my natural courage had full play?"
"Does that sentiment possess you at present?"
"Yes--a little."
He laughed again, and said it was wholesome; and went off without seeming in the least dismayed by the intelligence. If Eleanor had ventured that remark as a feeler, she was utterly discomfited. She went about her pretty work of getting the little table ready and acquainting herself with the details of her cupboard arrangements, feeling a little amused at herself, and with many deeper thoughts about Mr. Rhys and the basket of fruit.
They were sitting in the study after dinner, alternately talking and studying Fijian, when Mr. Rhys suddenly asked,
"Of whom have you ever been afraid, Eleanor, where your natural courage did not have full play?"
"Mr. Carlisle."
"How was that?"
"I was in a false position."
"I feared that, at one time," said Mr. Rhys thoughtfully.
"I was a bond woman--under engagements that tied me--I did not dare do as I felt. I understand it all now."
"Do you like to tell me how it happened?"
"I like it very much. I want that you should know just how it was. I was pressed into those engagements without my heart being in them, and indeed very much against my will; but I was dazzled by a vision of worldly glory that made me too weak to resist. Then thoughts of another kind began to rise within me; I saw that worldly glory was not the sufficient thing I had thought it; and as my eyes got clear, I found I had given no love where I had given my promise. Then that consciousness hampered me in every action."
"But you did not break with him--with Mr. Carlisle?"
"Because I was such a bondwoman, as I told you. I did not know what I might do--what was right,--and I wanted to do right then; till I went to Pla.s.sy. Aunt Caxton set me free."
Mr. Rhys was silent a little.