Caught on the Ebb-Tide

by Edward Payson Roe

The August morning was bright and fair, but Herbert Scofield'sbrow was clouded. He had wandered off to a remote part of thegrounds of a summer hotel on the Hudson, and seated in the shadeof a tree, had lapsed into such deep thought that his cigar hadgone out and the birds were becoming bold in the vicinity of hismotionless figure.It was his vacation time and he had come to the country ostensiblyfor rest. As the result, he found himself in the worst state ofunrest that he had ever known. Minnie Madison, a young lady he hadlong admired, was the magnet that had drawn him hither. Herarrival had preceded his by several weeks; and she had smiled alittle consciously when in looking at the hotel register late oneafternoon his bold chirography met her eye."There are so many other places to which he might have gone," shemurmured.Her smile, however, was a doubtful one, not expressive of gladnessand entire satisfaction. In mirthful, saucy fashion her thoughtsran on: "The time has come when he might have a respite frombusiness. Does he still mean business by coming here? I'm not surethat I do, although the popular idea seems to be that a girlshould have no vacation in the daily effort to find a husband. Icontinually disappoint the good people by insisting that thehusband must find me. I have a presentiment that Mr. Scofield islooking for me; but there are some kinds of property which cannotbe picked up and carried off, nolens volens, when found."Scofield had been animated by no such clearly defined purpose ashe was credited with when he sought the summer resort graced byMiss Madison. His action seemed to him tentative, his motive ill-defined even in his own consciousness, yet it had been strongenough to prevent any hesitancy. He knew he was weary from a longyear's work. He purposed to rest and take life very leisurely, andhe had mentally congratulated himself that he was doing a wisething in securing proximity to Miss Madison. She had evoked hisadmiration in New York, excited more than a passing interest, buthe felt that he did not know her very well. In the unconventionallife now in prospect he could see her daily and permit hisinterest to be dissipated or deepened, as the case might be, whilehe remained, in the strictest sense of the world, uncommitted. Itwas a very prudent scheme and not a bad one. He reasoned justly:"This selecting a wife is no bagatelle. A man wishes to knowsomething more about a woman than he can learn in a drawing-roomor at a theatre party."But now he was in trouble. He had been unable to maintain thisjudicial aspect. He had been made to understand at the outset thatMiss Madison did not regard herself as a proper subject fordeliberate investigation, and that she was not inclined to aid inhis researches. So far from meeting him with engaging franknessand revealing her innermost soul for his inspection, he found heras elusive as only a woman of tact can be when so minded, even ata place where people meet daily. It was plain to him from thefirst that he was not the only man who favored her with admiringglances; and he soon discovered that young Merriweather and hisfriend Hackley had passed beyond the neutral ground of non-committal. He set himself the task of learning how far thesesuitors had progressed in her good graces; he would not be guiltyof the folly of giving chase to a prize already virtuallycaptured. This too had proved a failure. Clearly, would he knowwhat Mr. Merriweather and Mr. Hackley were to Miss Madison he mustacquire the power of mind reading. Each certainly appeared to be avery good friend of hers--a much better friend than he could claimto be, for in his case she maintained a certain unapproachablenesswhich perplexed and nettled him.After a week of rest, observation, and rather futile effort tosecure a reasonable share of Miss Madison's society and attention,he became assured that he was making no progress whatever so faras she was concerned, but very decided progress in a condition ofmind and heart anything but agreeable should the affair continueso one-sided. He had hoped to see her daily, and was notdisappointed. He had intended to permit his mind to receive suchimpressions as he should choose; and now his mind asked nopermission whatever, but without volition occupied itself with herimage perpetually. He was not sure whether she satisfied hispreconceived ideals of what a wife should be or not, for shemaintained such a firm reticence in regard to herself that hecould put his finger on no affinities. She left no doubt as to herintelligence, but beyond that she would not reveal herself to him.He was almost satisfied that she discouraged him utterly and thatit would be wiser to depart before his feelings became more deeplyinvolved. At any rate he had better do this or else make love indead earnest. Which course should he adopt?There came a day which brought him to a decision.A party had been made up for an excursion into the Highlands, MissMadison being one of the number. She was a good pedestrian andrarely missed a chance for a ramble among the hills. Scofield'stwo rivals occasionally got astray with her in the perplexingwood-roads, but he never succeeded in securing such good-fortune.On this occasion, as they approached a woodchopper's cottage (orrather, hovel), there were sounds of acute distress within--thepiercing cries of a child evidently in great pain. There was amoment of hesitancy in the party, and then Miss Madison's gracefulindifference vanished utterly. As she ran hastily to the cabin,Scofield felt that now probably was a chance for more than mereobservation, and he kept beside her. An ugly cur sought to barentrance; but his vigorous kick sent it howling away. She gave hima quick pleased look as they entered. A slatternly woman wastrying to soothe a little boy, who at all her attempts onlywrithed and shrieked the more. "I dunno what ails the young one,"she said. "I found him a moment ago yellin' at the foot of a tree.Suthin's the matter with his leg.""Yes," cried Miss Madison, delicately feeling of the member--anoperation which, even under her gentle touch, caused increasedoutcry, "it is evidently broken. Let me take him on my lap;" andScofield saw that her face had softened into the tenderest pity."I will bring a surgeon at the earliest possible moment,"exclaimed Scofield, turning to go.Again she gave him an approving glance which warmed his heart."The ice is broken between us now," he thought, as he brokethrough the group gathering at the open door.Never before had he made such time down a mountain, for he had acertain kind of consciousness that he was not only going after thedoctor, but also after the girl. Securing a stout horse and wagonat the hotel, he drove furiously for the surgeon, explained theurgency, and then, with the rural healer at his side, almostkilled the horse in returning.He found his two rivals at the cabin door, the rest of the partyhaving gone on. Miss Madison came out quickly. An evanescent smileflitted across her face as she saw his kindled eyes and thereeking horse, which stood trembling and with bowed head. Hisardor was a little dampened when she went directly to the poorbeast and said, "This horse is a rather severe indictment againstyou, Mr. Scofield. There was need of haste, but--" and she pausedsignificantly."Yes," added the doctor, springing out, "I never saw such driving!It's lucky our necks are not broken""You are all right, Doctor, and ready for your work," Scofieldremarked brusquely. "As for the horse, I'll soon bring himaround;" and he rapidly began to unhitch the over-driven animal."What are you going to do?" Miss Madison asked curiously."Rub him into as good shape as when he started."She turned away to hide a smile as she thought, "He has waked upat last."The boy was rendered unconscious, and his leg speedily put in theway of restoration. "He will do very well now if my directions arecarried out strictly," the physician was saying when Scofieldentered.Mr. Merriweather and Mr. Hackley stood rather helplessly in thebackground and were evidently giving more thought to the fairnurse than to the patient. The mother was alternating betweenlamentations and invocations of good on the "young leddy's" head.Finding that he would come in for a share of the latter, Scofieldretreated again. Miss Madison walked quietly out, and lookingcritically at the horse, remarked, "You have kept your word verywell, Mr. Scofield. The poor creature does look much improved."She evidently intended to continue her walk with the two men inwaiting, for she said demurely with an air of dismissal, "You willhave the happy consciousness of having done a good deed thismorning.""Yes," replied Scofield, in significant undertone; "you, of allothers, Miss Madison, know how inordinately happy I shall be inriding back to the village with the doctor."She raised her eyebrows in a little well-feigned surprise at hiswords, then turned away.During the remainder of the day he was unable to see her alone fora moment, or to obtain any further reason to believe that the icewas in reality broken between them. But his course was no longernoncommittal, even to the most careless observer. The other guestsof the house smiled; and Mr. Merriweather and Mr. Hackley lookedaskance at one who threw their assiduous attentions quite into theshade. Miss Madison maintained her composure, was oblivious as faras possible, and sometimes when she could not appear blind, lookeda little surprised and even offended.He had determined to cast prudence and circumlocution to thewinds. On the morning following the episode in the mountains hewas waiting to meet her when she came down to breakfast. "I'veseen that boy, Miss Madison, and he's doing well.""What! so early? You are a very kind-hearted man, Mr. Scofield.""About as they average. That you are kind-hearted I know--at leastto every one except me--for I saw your expression as you examinedthe little fellow's injury yesterday. You thought only of thechild--""I hope you did also, Mr. Scofield," she replied with anexasperating look of surprise."You know well I did not," he answered bluntly. "I thought itwould be well worth while to have my leg broken if you would lookat me in the same way.""Truly, Mr. Scofield, I fear you are not as kind-hearted as Isupposed you to be;" and then she turned to greet Mr.Merriweather."Won't you let me drive you up to see the boy?" interposedScofield, boldly."I'm sorry, but I promised to go up with the doctor this morning."And so affairs went on. He thought at times her color quickened alittle when he approached suddenly; he fancied that heoccasionally surprised a half-wistful, half-mirthful glance, butwas not sure. He knew that she was as well aware of his intentionsand wishes as if he had proclaimed them through a speaking-trumpet. His only assured ground of comfort was that neither Mr.Merriweather nor Mr. Hackley had yet won the coveted prize, thoughthey evidently were receiving far greater opportunities to pushtheir suit than he had been favored with.At last his vacation was virtually at an end. But two more dayswould elapse before he must be at his desk again in the city. Andnow we will go back to the time when we found him that earlymorning brooding over his prospects, remote from observation. Whatshould he do--propose by letter? "No," he said after muchcogitation. "I can see that little affected look of surprise withwhich she would read my plain declaration of what she knows sowell. Shall I force a private interview with her? The very word'force,' which I have unconsciously used, teaches me the folly ofthis course. She doesn't care a rap for me, and I should haverecognized the truth long ago. I'll go back to the hotel and acttoward her precisely as she has acted toward me. I can then atleast take back to town a little shred of dignity."He appeared not to see her when she came down to breakfast. Afterthe meal was over he sat on the piazza engrossed in the morningpaper. An excursion party for the mountains was forming. He merelybowed politely as she passed him to join it, but he ground histeeth as he saw Merriweather and Hackley escorting her away. Whenthey were out of sight he tossed the paper aside and went down tothe river, purposing to row the fever out of his blood. He wasalready satisfied how difficult his tactics would be should hecontinue to see her, and he determined to be absent all day, to sotire himself out that exhaustion would bring early sleep on hisreturn.Weary and leaden-spirited enough he was, as late in the afternoonhe made his way back, but firm in sudden resolve to depart on anearly train in the morning and never voluntarily to see theobdurate lady of his affections again.Just as the sun was about sinking he approached a small woodedisland about half a mile from the boat-house, and was surprised tonotice a rowboat high and dry upon the beach. "Some one hasforgotten that the tide is going out," he thought, as he passed;but it was no affair of his.A voice called faintly, "Mr. Scofield!"He started at the familiar tones, and looked again. Surely thatwas Miss Madison standing by the prow of the stranded skiff! Heknew well indeed it was she; and he put his boat about with anenergy not in keeping with his former languid strokes. Then,recollecting himself, he became pale with the self-control hepurposed to maintain, "She is in a scrape," he thought; "and callsupon me as she would upon any one else to get her out of it."Weariness and discouragement inclined him to be somewhat recklessand brusque in his words and manner. Under the compulsion ofcircumstances she who would never graciously accord himopportunities must now be alone with him; but as a gentleman, hecould not take advantage of her helplessness, to plead his cause,and he felt a sort of rage that he should be mocked with anapparent chance which was in fact no chance at all.His boat stranded several yards from the shore. Throwing down hisoars, he rose and faced her. Was it the last rays of the settingsun which made her face so rosy, or was it embarrassment?"I'm in a dilemma, Mr. Scofield," Miss Madison began hesitatingly."And you would rather be in your boat," he added."That would not help me any, seeing where my boat is. I have donesuch a stupid thing! I stole away here to finish a book, and--well--I didn't notice that the tide was running out. I'm sure Idon't know what I'm going to do."Scofield put his shoulder to an oar and tried to push his craft towhat deserved the name of shore, but could make little headway. Hewas glad to learn by the effort, however, that the black mud wasnot unfathomable in depth. Hastily reversing his action, he beganpushing his boat back in the water."Surely, Mr. Scofield, you do not intend to leave me," began MissMadison."Surely not," he replied; "but then, since you are so averse to mycompany, I must make sure that my boat does not become as fast asyours on this ebb-tide, otherwise we should both have to wait tillthe flood.""Oh, beg pardon! I now understand. But how can you reach me?""Wade," he replied coolly, proceeding to take off his shoes andstockings."What! through that horrid black mud?""I couldn't leap that distance, Miss Madison.""It's too bad! I'm so provoked with myself! The mud may be verydeep, or there may be a quicksand or something.""In which case I should merely disappear a little earlier;" and hesprang overboard up to his knees, dragged the boat till it wassufficiently fast in the ooze to be stationary, then he wadedashore."Well," she said with a little deprecatory laugh, "it's a comfortnot to be alone on a desert island.""Indeed! Can I be welcome under any circumstances?""Truly, Mr. Scofield, you know that you were never more welcome.It's very kind of you.""Any man would be glad to come to your aid. It is merely yourmisfortune that I happen to be the one.""I'm not sure that I regard it as a very great misfortune. Youproved in the case of that little boy that you can act veryenergetically.""And get lectured for my intemperate zeal. Well, Miss Madison, Icannot make a very pleasing spectacle with blackamoor legs, andit's time I put my superfluous energy to some use. Suppose you getin your boat, and I'll try to push it off"She complied with a troubled look in her face. He pushed till theveins knotted on his forehead. At this she sprang out, exclaiming,"You'll burst a blood-vessel.""That's only a phase of a ruptured heart, and you are used to suchphenomena.""It's too bad for you to talk in that way," she cried."It certainly is. I will now attend strictly to business.""I don't see what you can do.""Carry you out to my boat--that is all I can do.""Oh, Mr. Scofield!""Can you suggest anything else?"She looked dubiously at the intervening black mud, and was silent."I could go up to the hotel and bring Mr. Merriweather and Mr.Hackley."She turned away to hide her tears."Or I could go after a brawny boatman; but delay is serious, forthe tide is running out fast and the stretch of mud growing wider.Can you not imagine me Mike or Tim, or some fellow of that sort.""No, I can't.""Then perhaps you wish me to go for Mike or Tim?""But the tide is running out so fast, you said.""Yes, and it will soon be dark.""Oh, dear!" and there was distress in her tones.He now said kindly, "Miss Madison, I wish that like Sir WalterRaleigh I had a mantle large enough for you to walk over. You canat least imagine that I am a gentleman, that you may soon be atthe hotel, and no one ever be any the wiser that you had to choosebetween me and the deep--ah, well--mud.""There is no reason for such an allusion, Mr. Scofield.""Well, then, that you had no other choice.""That's better. But how in the world can you manage it?""You will have to put your arm around my neck.""Oh!""You would put your arm around a post, wouldn't you?" he askedwith more than his old brusqueness."Yes-s; but--""But the tide is going out. My own boat will soon be fast. Dinnerwill grow cold at the hotel, and you are only the longer indispensing with me. You must consider the other direalternatives.""Ob, I forgot that you were in danger of losing a warm dinner.""You know I have lost too much to think of that or much else. Butthere is no need of satire, Miss Madison. I will do whatever youwish. That truly is carte blanche enough even for this occasion.""I didn't mean to be satirical. I--I--Well, have your own way.""Not if you prefer some other way.""You have shown that practically there isn't any other way. I'msorry that my misfortune, or fault rather, should also be yourmisfortune. You don't know how heavy--""I soon will, and you must endure it all with such grace as youcan. Put your arm round my neck, so--oh, that will never do! Well,you'll hold tight enough when I'm floundering in the mud."Without further ado he picked her up, and started rapidly for hisboat. Stepping on a smooth stone he nearly fell, and her arm didtighten decidedly."If you try to go so fast," she said, "you will fall.""I was only seeking to shorten your ordeal, but for obviousreasons must go slowly;" and he began feeling his way."Mr. Scofield, am I not very heavy?" she asked softly."Not as heavy as my heart, and you know it.""I'm sure I--""No, you are not to blame. Moths have scorched their wings beforenow, and will always continue to do so."Her head rested slightly against his shoulder; her breath fannedhis cheek; her eyes, soft and lustrous, sought his. But he lookedaway gloomy and defiant, and she felt his grasp tighten vise-likearound her. "I shall not affect any concealment of the feelingswhich she has recognized so often, nor shall I ask any favors," hethought. "There," he said, as he placed her in his boat, "you aresafe enough now. Now go aft while I push off."When she was seated he exerted himself almost as greatly asbefore, and the boat gradually slid into the water. He sprang inand took the oars."Aren't you going to put on your shoes and stockings?""Certainly, when I put you ashore.""Won't that be a pretty certain way of revealing the plight inwhich you found me?""Pardon my stupidity; I was preoccupied with the thought ofrelieving you from the society which you have hitherto avoided sosuccessfully;" and bending over his shoes he tied them almostsavagely.There was a wonderful degree of mirth and tenderness in her eyesas she watched him. They had floated by a little point; and as heraised his head he saw a form which he recognized as Mr.Merriweather rowing toward them. "There comes one of yourshadows," he said mockingly. "Be careful how you exchange boatswhen he comes along-side. I will give you no help in such a case."She looked hastily over her shoulder at the approaching oarsman."I think it will be safer to remain in your boat," she said."Oh, it will be entirely safe," he replied bitterly."Mr. Merriweather must have seen you carrying me.""That's another thing which I can't help.""Mr. Scofield," she began softly.He arrested his oars, and turned wondering eyes to hers. They weresparkling with mirth as she continued, "Are you satisfied that acertain young woman whom you once watched very narrowly isentirely to your mind?"He caught her mirthful glance and misunderstood her. With dignityhe answered, "I'm not the first man who blundered to his cost,though probably it would have made no difference. You must do methe justice, however, to admit that I did not maintain the role ofobserver very long--that I wooed you so openly that every one wasaware of my suit. Is it not a trifle cruel to taunt me after I hadmade such ample amends?""I was thinking of Mr. Merriweather--""Undoubtedly""Since he has seen me with my arm around your neck--you know Icouldn't help it--perhaps he might row the other way if--if--well,if he saw you--what shall I say--sitting over here--by me--or--Somehow I don't feel very hungry, and I wouldn't mind spendinganother hour--"Scofield nearly upset the boat in his precipitous effort to gain aseat beside her--and Mr. Merriweather did row another way.

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