Ml 

 
 BRUNHILDA 
 OF ORR S ISLAND
 
 BRUNHILDA
 
 BRUNHILDA 
 
 OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 BY 
 WILLIAM JASPER NICOLLS 
 
 " But she was a soft landscape of mild earth, 
 
 Where all was Harmony, and Calm and Quiet, 
 Luxuriant, budding : cheerful ***** 
 I ve seen your stormy Seas and stormy Women, 
 And pity Lovers rather more than Seamen." 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY 
 
 GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY 
 
 Published Ma}/, 1908 
 
 All Sights Reserved 
 Printed in U S. A.
 
 EEFEAIN : 
 
 On the shores of Casco Bay, 
 Where the boats at anchor lay, 
 Don t you hear the wind a-callin , 
 Thro the riggin , old and gray. 
 On the shores of Casco Bay, 
 Where the little white caps play, 
 And the sun sinks down in glory, 
 O er the mountains, far away." 
 
 2229^36
 
 PART FIRST
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 NY orders beyond Portland?" the old cap 
 tain asked, as he stood erect before him. 
 
 Nelson looked up from the book on his 
 lap, gazed absently over the hand rail and then 
 along the smooth white deck of the Phyllis. 
 "None," he answered. 
 
 "Casco Bay," the weather-beaten old skipper ex 
 plained, as he waved his hand towards the blue 
 North. 
 
 "Yes," he assented lazily and resumed his read 
 ing. 
 
 The sharp old eyes New England eyes 
 snapped impatiently. 
 
 "I was raised on one of them islands," the skip 
 per informed him. 
 
 It was the longest sentence he had spoken to 
 Nelson since the Phyllis had slipped her moor 
 ings in New York Harbor the longest purely 
 
 9
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 conversational sentence; the next was on official 
 matters. 
 
 "Shall we go there?" 
 
 Nelson closed the book, pulled out a jewelled 
 case, and lit a cigarette. 
 
 "As you please anywhere on the map," he said. 
 
 Then he lay back, indolently, in a low steamer 
 chair, under the deck awning, smoked his cigarette 
 and contemplated the North, now fast changing 
 to purple and gold. 
 
 For the Maine coast it was a remarkable view. 
 
 The Phyllis was silently cleaving the silken 
 waters of the harbor, her sharp, aristocratic bow 
 dividing the waters into little sprays of sparkling 
 blue and green, which fell again with a gentle 
 cadence into the quiet sea. 
 
 There, just over the port rail stretched the 
 undulating shore of Portland, with glimpses of 
 houses, through the tall masts of the heavily laden 
 vessels that lay at anchor. At his right a light 
 house stood, round and solid as though it had 
 grown from roots in the bottom of the sea. 
 
 Ahead of him was a lovely island dotted with 
 10
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 picturesque cottages and smooth green lawns, and 
 beyond that was another island, and more islands, 
 fading into the yellowish red of an August sunset. 
 
 Probably his mind recalled, and then dwelt ten 
 aciously on a scene he would much rather have for 
 gotten. 
 
 The blue Adriatic the Grand canal the silken 
 waters of the bay the sunset a Venetian love 
 song and Anne. 
 
 "Jove," he sighed under his breath "But how 
 it recalls every line, every feature." Then he 
 leaned forward, and with elbows on knees, he held 
 his head between both hands and stared straight 
 into the searching eyes of old Botts, the skipper. 
 
 "We re a going down the Bay," said the 
 captain, tentatively. 
 
 The fact was obvious, still there was a question 
 in the abstract, and the captain evidently wished 
 an answer. 
 
 Nelson looked up, and mechanically reached for 
 his cigarette case. 
 
 "I said anywhere on the map the Bay is on the 
 map, I believe?" 
 
 11
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "I guess it is," replied the skipper. 
 
 Then he shifted his weight onto the other leg 
 and stared at his owner. 
 
 There was something on his mind, something of 
 importance, evidently. 
 
 Nelson looked him squarely in the face and said, 
 "Well?" 
 
 "It s a passenger that is she wants to be." 
 
 "She?" Nelson held the wax taper in suspen 
 sion. 
 
 "It looks like she," said the old man, doggedly. 
 
 "No." 
 
 The match exploded like a toy pistol and a tiny 
 wreath of smoke curled upwards. 
 
 Then there was a voice, round, flexible a 
 woman s voice. It came from somewhere astern. 
 
 "Ho ! Captain Botts !" 
 
 Nelson looked over the hand rail. 
 
 In a small white boat, feathering her oars and 
 bending gracefully to each stroke, not over fifty 
 feet away, was a young woman. 
 
 As she looked over her shoulder her eyes rested 
 on Nelson. 
 
 12
 
 n 
 
 a curious thing happend. 
 1 The owner of the Phyllis had thrown his 
 
 cigarette into the water, and was on his feet, 
 gesticulating vigorously. 
 
 "Captain Botts" he commanded, "why don t 
 you stop stop, I say don t you hear her calling 
 to you?" And all for the sake of a woman. 
 
 A young woman with masses of fluffy hair glint 
 ing in the yellow afterglow like interwoven threads 
 of golden sunshine. She wore no hat and her 
 firm round arms were bare to the elbow. 
 
 The astonished captain shuffled forward, and at 
 his heels followed Nelson. 
 
 About midships he stood abreast of the little 
 white boat, and managed to catch the young 
 woman s eye. 
 
 Then he raised his laced cap, with the bow of 
 an admiral. 
 
 13
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 She nodded carelessly. 
 
 "May I come aboard?" she asked, in her musi 
 cal voice. She had adroitly shipped her oars, and 
 had caught the line thrown her by a young deck 
 hand. The engine suddenly stopped its rhythmic 
 pulsations, and the Phyllis, losing headway, was 
 slowly drifting in the slightly undulating sea. 
 Her face upturned to him showed warm and soft 
 in the crimson haze overshadowing it ; but clear 
 and distinct shone the luminous dark blue eyes, and 
 between half parted lips flashed her exquisitely 
 white teeth. 
 
 Nelson hesitated not a moment. 
 
 "Certainly, permit me." He clasped her 
 strong, smooth hand and lifted her up the little 
 ladder and onto the deck. 
 
 "Thanks" she beamed, and then seated herself 
 comfortably on a cushioned chair. 
 
 Captain Botts touched his cap with more defer 
 ence than he had ever shown to Nelson. 
 
 "The boat?" he said, nodding his head to 
 wards the little white craft that was nestling close 
 to the side of the Phyllis. 
 
 14
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Oh! the boat?" she exclaimed. She pro 
 nounced it "bo-it" with a lingering cadence that 
 went to Nelson s head. Then, settling back com 
 fortably in the cushions: 
 
 "We can leave it at Little Diamond." 
 
 The captain touched his cap and went forward. 
 
 In a few moments the Phyllis was again slowly 
 steaming to the North- with a little white boat in 
 tow. 
 
 Nelson stood by, with an amused expression on 
 his bronzed face. He had marked with satisfac 
 tion the comprehensive "we," and also the cap 
 tain s alacrity in obeying orders not given by 
 himself. He drew up a chair not far from hers. 
 
 "Is it far?" he said, leisurely, as he gazed ahead 
 into the blue and gold. 
 
 "Far?" she looked at his handsome, good- 
 natured face, critically. 
 
 "Little Diamond" he explained. 
 
 "Oh! just over there" she pointed a taper 
 ing finger across the blue water to an island the 
 first as you go down the Bay. 
 
 "That ! why we re almost there." 
 15
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 A light appeared for an instant in her eyes 
 the light that lies in woman s eyes hidden, in 
 scrutable. 
 
 There was a manifest tone of disappointment in 
 his voice. 
 
 "And you leave us there?" 
 
 "Oh ! no, we leave the boat there," once more 
 it was "bo-it," and he tried to memorize her pro 
 nunciation. 
 
 Again she looked him over very carefully, and, 
 apparently satisfied with the inspection, she began. 
 
 "You are Mr. Thomas?" she queried. 
 
 Nelson bowed. 
 
 "I m so much obliged to you for stopping," she 
 went on. "I missed the Aucocisco." 
 
 Nelson looked puzzled. 
 
 "The Aucocisco leaves Portland at five-ten, you 
 know, and I would have been left over night, 
 then" she yawned a trifle in the shade of her 
 brown hand "dear me! I m so tired then you 
 came along and I knew Captain Botts." 
 
 His disappointment changed to chagrin. 
 
 "Oh! yes Captain Botts," he said absently. 
 16
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "I rowed over from Little Diamond," she con 
 tinued. "I have friends living there." 
 
 Matters were still a little hazy, but her voice 
 was delightful, and her eyes ! 
 
 He had plenty of time he thought. She could 
 explain it to Captain Botts, and he would see that 
 the skipper obeyed orders if "Well we ll see," 
 he muttered 
 
 "I live on Orr s Island," she said, with a final 
 ity that made him pick up his book and hasten 
 after the captain. 
 
 That intrepid sailor was carefully examining a 
 government chart through a pair of large round 
 spectacles. 
 
 "I know the course," he said apologetically, as 
 Nelson touched his shoulder, "but I ain t taking 
 chances on shifting buoys that the government s 
 always changing Eh !" 
 
 "How far is it to Orr s Island?" said Nelson. 
 The captain looked over his spectacles and 
 scratched the side of his grizzled head. 
 
 "Orr s Island ? about two hours the way we re 
 running." 
 
 17
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Nelson looked him in the eye without a blush. 
 "Make it three hours, and send the steward to 
 me," he ordered. 
 
 Then he dived into a state-room, pulled out a 
 couple of soft, fleecy steamer rugs and went on 
 deck. 
 
 She nestled in their bright colors and warm 
 folds. 
 
 "Thank you so much," she murmured. 
 
 18
 
 Ill 
 
 CAPTAIN BOTTS erect, sunburned, wrinkled, 
 in a uniform with gold lace on his cuffs and 
 cap, stood by the wheel in the pilot house. 
 The mate could do very well in the open, but 
 here in Casco Bay it was different. The channel 
 took many devious turns to Orr s Island. At sight 
 of Nelson, however, he turned over the wheel, 
 to the mate and signalled the engineer "half 
 speed." Then he said, "The Casino on Long 
 Island is the mark hanged if I wasn t going full 
 speed," he added to himself. 
 
 Nelson motioned him to a seat forward, in the 
 bow, and offered a cigar. 
 
 "Fine evening," said the captain, suspiciously, 
 as he swept a sulphurous match across the leg of 
 his trousers. 
 
 "Yes by the way, er who is our passen 
 ger?" 
 
 19
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 The captain puffed vigorously. 
 
 "Who is she?" 
 
 "Yes, her name?" 
 
 "Oh Hilda." 
 
 "Hilda , what?" he persisted. The captain s 
 caution annoyed him. 
 
 "You mean her folks name?" said the skipper, 
 warily. 
 
 "Of course, her family name." 
 
 "She ain t got any family." 
 
 The captain was wishing that he had his pipe. 
 He was chewing and pulling at the unaccustomed 
 cigar so strongly that the fire was running, un 
 evenly, down its side. 
 
 "What is her other name?" asked Nelson. 
 
 "She was baptized Brunhilda," explained the 
 skipper. Then he lapsed into silence, profound, 
 inpenetrable. 
 
 Nelson held his knee in both hands and peered 
 into the gloaming. 
 
 "Then it doesn t matter so much if we put back 
 to Portland," he observed, thoughtfully. 
 
 "You can t do that," said the captain, jumping 
 20
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 to his feet and tossing his cigar overboard. It 
 described a fiery curve in the dusk, and fell into 
 the water with a little hissing sound. 
 
 "The Phyllis is mine, I believe," said the other, 
 calmly. 
 
 "But she must get home to-night." 
 
 There was resolve, determination, finality, in the 
 old man s voice. 
 
 "Why?" he temporized. 
 
 "Hagan Gunther would never forgive me." 
 
 A light broke into the young man s conscious 
 ness. "What has he to do with it?" he inquired. 
 
 "He s her uncle a fine man," the captain ex 
 plained. 
 
 "Not as good a man as his brother," Nelson 
 ventured. 
 
 "His brother?" 
 
 "Yes, her father." 
 
 "Oh, Etzel, you knew Etzel?" said the skip 
 per, innocently. 
 
 "I have heard of him," said Nelson, truthfully. 
 
 "Most everybody heard of him, time his boat 
 went down foolhardy," mused the captain. 
 
 21
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Everyone lost," suggested Nelson. 
 
 "All cepting Hilda." 
 
 Then he had the story. 
 
 So he got on his feet and yawned, stretching 
 his arms over his head. 
 
 "Of course, if we must take her home why we 
 must," he said lazily. 
 
 The captain went back to the wheel. 
 
 "He s reasonable enough," he murmured, as he 
 stuck the well-chewed stem of his pipe between his 
 teeth. "Going away out of his course, just for 
 Hilda, blamed good-natured, that s a fact." 
 
 Kind, good Nelson stood for five minutes in 
 the shadow of the cabin, mentally photographing 
 every line of her lovely contour from the top of 
 her glorious head to the tip of her canvas shoe 
 just peeping from beneath the vari-colored rug. 
 
 "An orphan," he said as he gazed at her, un 
 observed. Then he drew in his breath, like one 
 who is pleased in anticipation. 
 
 "Fatherless, motherless, sisterless, brotherless." 
 Then he taxed his memory. 
 
 22
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Brunhild?" he asked himself, softly. 
 "Oh, yes, I remember it: Nibelungenlied. 
 He repeated the verse : 
 
 "Then spake the lord of Rhineland: 
 
 Straight will I hence to sea, 
 And seek the fiery Brunhild 
 
 However it go with me. 
 For love of the stern maiden 
 
 I ll frankly risk my life; 
 Ready am I to lose it, 
 
 If I win her not to wife. 
 
 23
 
 IV 
 
 THE steward he was from Nelson s club, and 
 was on his vacation drew up a small table 
 and set down a tray of his own devising. 
 There was a cantaloupe, iced to delicious cool 
 ness. Tiny thin cups of clam broth, a broiled 
 young chicken, and a dish all his own in which 
 a stuffed raw tomato was the only outward and 
 visible sign of an inward and delectable filling. A 
 delicate little tart for dessert, and then came the 
 coffee. 
 
 It was a dainty refection. 
 
 She had scarcely tasted the dishes, and now she 
 was sipping from her cup with hardly concealed 
 indifference. His magnificence was apparently 
 lost upon her, and his brilliant conversation died 
 away in the ripples of the Bay. Overhead the 
 moon emerged from behind a fleecy cloud, and its 
 rays tipped the waters with a silvery radiance. In 
 
 24
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 the distance a tinkling sound of bells aroused her 
 from the awkward silence. 
 
 "The bell buoy," she said, leaning forward, 
 her face animated, ungraciously, "We ll soon 
 be there." 
 
 "You are glad?" he inquired. 
 
 "Glad?" There was a shade of humor, mis 
 chief, lurking in the depths of her eyes ; she sat al 
 most heedlessly, her hands in her lap, her hair 
 loosely threatening to fall any moment, the blue 
 sailor knot around her shoulders almost awry, 
 "Oh, yes." 
 
 Clearly his disappointment and chagrin had 
 changed to vexation. 
 
 "The Phyllis is not nearly so fine a boat as the 
 the Oakawisco" 
 
 She smiled, then laughed, a rippling, merry 
 impromptu, aloud. She leaned back in her chair, 
 her hands behind her head, her round bare arms 
 free, natural. 
 
 "Why, the Aucoclsco is only a passenger boat, 
 for the islanders, This is a yacht !" 
 
 She said it with almost a gasp of admiration. 
 25
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Her glance swept along the beautiful lines of the 
 vessel. It should have satisfied him that the trou 
 ble was not with the Phyllis. 
 
 "Some passengers, perhaps," he suggested, 
 "on the Co-co-isco that s the most infernal 
 name," he said, roughly. 
 
 It was probably dawning on him that it was 
 just possible, in fact quite conceivable, that he, 
 Nelson Thomas, rich, dilettante, was not the be 
 wildering success with this island girl that he had 
 imagined. 
 
 She answered frankly, carelessly, "Oh, I gener 
 ally meet some friends among the passengers." 
 Then her hands fell into her lap, and her anima 
 tion died away into the silence around them. 
 
 He was evidently angry when he called her "The 
 most apathetic, indifferent That is what he 
 said, under his breath, as he stumbled over a deck 
 stool, on his way to the captain. The latter was 
 puffing silently at his pipe, his eyes roving, dream 
 ily, across the placid waters of the Bay its sur 
 face reflecting the red, yellow and purple of the 
 glowing skies. The bow cut scarcely a ripple as 
 
 26
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 the Phyllis under half speed floated serenely to the 
 North. 
 
 Nelson s brows gathered ominously. "What s 
 the matter with the boat?" he inquired. 
 
 The captain o-lanced quickly fore and aft. 
 
 "Matter ? * he repeated, "nothing, as I know." 
 
 "She s crawling along like a mud turtle," as 
 serted the owner. 
 
 The skipper knocked the ashes from his pipe, 
 pulled down his cap, and shut the little window in 
 front of him. 
 
 "You want to go faster?" he suggested. 
 
 "We ll be out all night, if you don t do some 
 thing," said Nelson, gloomily. 
 
 "You said awhile ago about making it in three 
 hours," began the captain, in justification, as he 
 signalled the engineer to "get ready." That 
 young man was lying on his back, on the cushioned 
 seat, beside the polished cylinders, looking through 
 the window at the moon. He jumped as if a bee 
 had stung him. "Get busy, Jake," he called to 
 the fireman. Jake slid down the ladder, and 
 
 opened wide the blower 
 
 27
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Well, three hours isn t all night, is it?"- 
 interrupted Nelson. 
 
 "It depends," the skipper answered, vaguely. 
 Then he peered into the gathering shades. "You 
 want to go ahead quick?" he emphasized. 
 
 "That s what she wants," concluded Nelson, ab 
 sently. 
 
 "She" 
 
 The jingle bell was ringing "get there," only 
 a second before a column of black smoke curled 
 upwards, in circling rings, from the funnel, and 
 then flattened down to a long horizontal streak, 
 as the Phyllis gained headway on her "full speed" 
 for Orr s Island. 
 
 28
 
 V 
 
 AFTERWARDS in her room, from the win 
 dow of which she could see the lights of the 
 Phyllis, anchored in the harbor Hilda 
 wrote to her friend in Portland. 
 
 "I won my bet all right, and carne 
 down home on that yacht," then she 
 wrote a lot of girlish adjectives. 
 
 "The supper was fine, I was awfully 
 hungry, but managed to keep my ap 
 petite within lady-like limits a real 
 lady, you know, only nibbles the food, 
 so I nibbled and sipped, while he by the 
 way, Grace, he is very good-looking, 
 with dreamy eyes and such a sad ex 
 pression on his face, I m sure he must 
 have had some dreadful disappointment. 
 He seemed to get such gloomy fits 
 and then he wrapped me in lovely 
 29
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 steamer rugs, the brightest colors I 
 must have looked like an Indian, and the 
 Phyllis is just a dream we could cross 
 the ocean on her so he said and she 
 is fitted up with everything. And so 
 fast, we overtook the Aucocisco, and 
 came in ahead. His name is Nelson 
 Thomas, from New York, and is tall and 
 dark with brown eyes, and I came down 
 to Orr s Island with him all right, and 
 won the bet so you can send the gloves 
 by mail, six and a quarter, tan, full 
 length, and she s anchored out in the 
 harbor now. Uncle Hagan says it s not 
 very safe, but I guess Captain Botts 
 knows where to lay, so maybe we ll meet 
 again and if so I ll write right away." 
 Then she walked to the post office and dropped 
 the letter in the door box, so that it would go on 
 the Aucocisco leaving the Island at five o clock 
 the next morning. 
 
 30
 
 VI 
 
 NELSON paced the deck, restlessly, back and 
 forth, his hands behind his back, then in his 
 pockets; his head bent low in thought, then 
 upward to the moon for inspiration when Cap 
 tain Botts intercepted him. 
 
 "When do you think of leaving here?" 
 Nelson stopped, impatiently. "Would it be 
 possible to stay in one place for say an hour, or 
 must we always move on?" 
 
 The skipper looked at the crooked brown legs of 
 the old wharf, which the ebbing tide was slowly 
 uncovering, and shook his head. "Not in this 
 cove, I didn t calculate to stay here over night." 
 "No " yawned Nelson, indifferently. 
 "Around Baileys, in Mackerel Cove, we could 
 lay snug enough," the skipper suggested. 
 
 "Yes " Nelson gazed absently into th silvery 
 moonlight. 
 
 31
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Just over there," added the captain, inclining 
 his head towards his left shoulder. 
 
 "All right" 
 
 He resumed his absorbed pacing, back and forth 
 and across the deck, and then stopping suddenly 
 he ejaculated: "She has the most uncommon 
 eyes !" 
 
 "Eh? " said the captain. 
 
 "You may put me ashore here, and lay in 
 in that fish cove, until until you hear from 
 me." He went into his cabin, changed his gar 
 ments, and packing a small suit-case, he went 
 ashore in the launch. 
 
 Walking to the hotel he engaged a room, and 
 he threw a window wide open to enjoy the refresh 
 ing air and view. He discarded his cigarette case 
 and drew forth an old fire-eaten, brier pipe. 
 
 "Now, " he said to his heart, "let us reason 
 together. In the first place, Nelson Thomas, 
 just what are you doing here, and how long are 
 you going to remain? .... Exactly, 
 you want to get away from society, the kind of 
 society that you have known all your life. 
 
 32
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Certainly, to loaf around on the island, to for 
 get that you own white shirts and black garments, 
 to enjoy at your leisure the piney woods, the 
 green grass, the sunny rocks, the shady walks, 
 
 and and well, say, Hilda Anne 
 
 is all right, of course, in her own sphere. 
 
 "Anne is aristocratic, correct, rich and every 
 thing that goes with such advantageous circum 
 stances A little artificial, frayed, 
 
 dried, perhaps. But she has perfect features, is 
 always faultlessly gowned A won 
 derful woman indeed." .... 
 
 Then he concluded : "I like Brunhilda better." 
 
 In the morning he was up betimes, and after 
 a hearty breakfast of coffee, rolls, and mackerel 
 he stepped out into the cool bracing air of the 
 early day. Throwing up his head he inhaled the 
 delicious, soft, moist air of the sea, mingled with 
 balsamic odors from the pines. 
 
 "A most delectable island," he acknowledged. 
 "Old Botts was right." 
 
 His walk was along the main road that runs its 
 winding course the whole length of the island. It 
 
 33
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 was an enchanting walk, up hill and down, wind 
 ing through groups of old trees, pines, birch, 
 maples, the underwood covered with ferns and 
 mosses. Soft, velvety side paths branched out in 
 vitingly on either side, enticing, alluring. 
 
 Then at every hill-top were glimpses of the sea, 
 rippling, rising and falling, tiny white caps, far 
 out, towards the horizon. 
 
 And the air, the air was stimulating, bracing, 
 with delicious odors, the delightful aroma of wood 
 plants, and rich leaf mould. 
 
 As he branched from the rocky highway and 
 turned into the grassy road, the overhanging 
 boughs bending low with the little crystals of 
 dew ^brushed his cheek, while his feet trod on a 
 smooth, soft carpet of grass and moss. It was 
 truly a delectable, a charming island, and Nelson 
 walked the whole length of it, looking to the right 
 and left of him, and peering into the open windows 
 and doors of the little white cottages, but finding 
 no sight of Hilda. 
 
 "I could ask where uncle Hagen lives, of course," 
 he said to himself a thousand times. "But I am 
 
 34
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 not going to advertise my crassness to the entire 
 island." 
 
 The next day it rained. 
 
 Then a northeaster set in, and it rained con 
 tinuously, unceasingly, for two days. The blue 
 and purple, the yellow and gold left the skies, and 
 only a dull leaden gray hung low in the firmament. 
 The days seemed to be weeks. There was nothing 
 to mark their duration. 
 
 Nelson paced the narrow porch of the hotel 
 until he was wet and chilled with penetrating mist. 
 Then he went indoors and read the advertisements 
 of an old magazine that he found lying on the 
 table ; until he grew desperate and went out again, 
 and walked. 
 
 "Where in the world could that girl hide her 
 self on this island?" he grumbled. "I have been 
 all over it, and around everywhere." Suddenly an 
 idea struck him ; he looked grave. 
 
 "She must be ill." He said it seriously. Then 
 he went back to the hotel, and decided that he 
 would send word to Captain Botts. But while he 
 was looking for a boatman the leaden drab of the 
 
 35
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 sky became gray, and as he scanned the horizon it 
 seemed to grow lighter, and then more transpar 
 ent, until, finally, pale glimpses of blue appeared, 
 half concealed by the light, feathery clouds now 
 floating serenely out to sea. 
 
 As the afternoon sun shone through the yellow 
 mist he saw coming towards him a fisherman. He 
 was of medium height, muscular, alert, and had 
 light blue eyes. He wore yellow oilskins, and over 
 his shoulders he carried a pair of oars. 
 
 Nelson stopped him. 
 
 "I Avas looking for a man," he said, "to go out 
 to my yacht." 
 
 The fisherman put the end of an oar on the 
 ground and leaned on it. 
 
 "Where does she lay?" he asked. 
 
 "Over there in Mackerel Cove." 
 
 The man looked at the sky, at the sea, and then 
 at the sun. 
 
 "All right," he assented. 
 
 "I want you to take this." 
 
 He stopped suddenly and gazed foolishly at tv;o 
 figures coming up from the landing. 
 
 36
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 One was Captain Bolts, the other was Hilda. 
 She advanced and spoke cordially. 
 
 "Hello, Herbert." 
 
 The fisherman smiled. "Hello, Hilda." 
 
 Then she turned to Nelson. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Thomas," she said, "we have had the 
 loveliest time." She was radiant. 
 
 "Yes," said Nelson, with a rising inflection. He 
 looked from the girl to the shamefaced captain, 
 then to the fisherman, and back again. 
 
 "On the Phyllis," she continued, joyously. 
 
 "The Phyllis" he echoed. 
 
 "The loveliest boat," she went on. "You should 
 see it, Herbert." 
 
 She turned to the fisherman. 
 
 "I am just going over to it now," he replied. 
 "Want to go along?" 
 
 Nelson interrupted. "You are not going now 
 I have changed my mind." 
 
 The fisherman shouldered his oars. "Oh all 
 right ; see you again." 
 
 He nodded to Hilda and walked away, his strong 
 figure square, erect. 
 
 37
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Nelson turned to the girl. 
 
 "I hope you enjoyed your visit?" he inquired. 
 
 "We looked for you," said the skipper. 
 
 Nelson colored a trifle. He seemed annoyed 
 with the assurance. 
 
 "Where did you look?" 
 
 "Everywhere," answered the skipper, promptly. 
 
 "Each time that we called at the hotel they said 
 that you were out walking," she ventured. 
 
 Again he looked in her eyes. No doubt he saw 
 nothing but truth. 
 
 "Probably," he commented. "I am very fond of 
 walking." 
 
 "Yes," she grew interested. "And where did 
 you walk?" 
 
 "Oh, round and round." He spoke with enthu 
 siasm. "I love to walk." 
 
 "To the post office," she suggested. 
 
 "Yes, I called there for my letters." 
 
 The captain opened his mouth, said nothing, 
 and shut it again. He seemed to be surprised. 
 Perhaps he was wondering how they knew where to 
 send his letters. Doutbless letters could be sent to 
 
 38
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "any place on the map" if one knew where to 
 address them. 
 
 "To the Back Shore?" she continued. 
 
 "Where all those rocks are?" he queried. 
 
 She nodded her head. 
 
 "Yes, yes, indeed, beautiful," he beamed, fer 
 vently. 
 
 She eyed him suspiciously. 
 
 "To the bridge?" she intimated. 
 
 "Bridge, up to the bridge? several times, 
 while they were sorting the mail in the post office. 
 Exquisite view," he went on, ardently. 
 
 Her face clouded. 
 
 "It s six miles, up and back," she said, soberly. 
 
 "So it is," the captain corroborated. 
 
 "I was rather tired," he admitted. 
 
 The skipper sauntered over to the store to buy 
 some tobacco. 
 
 She moved closer to him. 
 
 "I wanted so much to see the Phyllis before 
 before you leave." 
 
 She looked up into his face. 
 
 "And Captain Botts said " 
 39
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "I don t care what Captain Botts said," he in 
 terrupted, calmly. 
 
 "But you won t be angry you are not of 
 fended," she urged. 
 
 He looked down at the upturned face, at her 
 lips, half parted, at the symmetrical arch of her 
 eyebrows. 
 
 "With you?" he hastened. 
 
 "With Captain Botts," she persisted. 
 
 Wherewith she said "good-bye," and then 
 walked demurely away. And he gazed after her 
 as she walked up the rocky road, and on up the 
 hilh through the trees and beyond. 
 
 Captain Botts sauntered back leisurely from 
 the store. 
 
 "The ladies came," he said laconically. 
 
 "I ll go aboard," answered Nelson. 
 
 In the launch he faced the captain. "Who is 
 that man Herbert?" 
 
 "Captain Herbert Kenneth best man in the 
 Bay," he asserted, boldly. 
 
 40
 
 VII 
 
 PILDA sat under an apple tree, and wrote a let 
 ter holding the paper on a book in her 
 lap. The wind had dropped around to the 
 southwest and was blowing fresh and keen from the 
 open sea. Under her feet were old, gray, moss- 
 covered rocks. Between the rocks, gaining 
 nourishment from the innumerable little springs of 
 fresh water which abound on Orr s Island, was a 
 luxuriant growth of wild plants, of blueberries, 
 and delicate ground pines. Overhead was an azure 
 sky. She was writing as she had promised to 
 her friend Grace in Portland. 
 
 "Captain Botts took me aboard the 
 Phyllis again, I went all over it, but Mr. 
 Thomas was very angry at Captain 
 Botts, and it was not his fault at all for 
 I just coaxed him until he took me. We 
 hunted everywhere for Mr. Thomas to 
 41
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 get his permission, but he was always out 
 walking, he says he is very fond of 
 walking, and I believe it, for he passed 
 our house at least a dozen times. I 
 stood right in the window so he could 
 see me, but he never looked at me, I 
 wanted to bow and thank him for taking 
 me aboard his yacht, but he just walked 
 ahead so absent-minded, he must have 
 had one of his gloomy fits. The gloves 
 came all right, they are perfectly lovely 
 and fit beautifully, I don t know how 
 long the Phyllis is going to stay here, 
 Captain Botts says he may stay over 
 night or he may stay a year, he has 
 been here a week already. It doesn t 
 seem a week, does it. 
 
 A freckled-faced boy was coming up the road, 
 whistling. In his hand he held a little bunch of 
 cunners, hanging limply by a string. 
 "Ho, Tommie," she called. 
 The boy stopped whistling and looked over the 
 low stone wall. 
 
 42
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Come here Tommie, I want you." 
 
 He walked leisurely around by the gateway and 
 came up the grassy walk under the trees. 
 
 "Where have you been, Tommie?" 
 
 The boy held up his string of fish for her inspec 
 tion. 
 
 "Fishing, over on Baileys," he answered. 
 
 She examined each little fish, separately. 
 
 "That s a big one," she exclaimed. "And that 
 and that." 
 
 Tommie turned them around slowly. 
 
 "Caught that one in Mackerel Cove," he said 
 proudly. 
 
 She marvelled, and then he exclaimed. 
 
 "Oh, Hilda, you ought to see the yacht over 
 there. The Phyllis." 
 
 "Yes, Hilda gazed into the distance and 
 again sat down and wrote. 
 
 "He is still here, I wonder what he is 
 waiting for." 
 
 Then she folded the letter, addressed it and 
 gave it to the boy with two pennies. "Take it 
 down to the post office for me, Tommie." 
 
 43
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 The boy laid down his fish in the shade of a 
 bush, and started down the lane. 
 
 She called after him before he had reached the 
 gate. "Ho ! Tommie." 
 
 He turned around. 
 
 "You may pick blueberries here, any time you 
 want." 
 
 44
 
 VIII 
 
 THE air was soft and balmy, the sky overhead 
 like turquoise, barely a ripple ruffled the sur 
 face of the water, the little boats held by 
 their moorings rode lightly, rising and falling 
 gently, in Mackerel Cove. Over on the wharf a 
 man in a long linen coat was industriously forking 
 over a large pile of fish. As he picked them out on 
 the fork s sharp tines he tossed them into a basket, 
 and another weighed them on the scales. Basket 
 after basket was filled from the shiny, slippery pile, 
 and still it seemed to grow no less. Idly watching 
 the two men at work lounged five or six of the 
 natives, their eyes half closed, their muscles re 
 laxed, as they leaned against the walls of the 
 wharf, or sat on the boxes that encumbered it. 
 There was nothing of importance to be done, noth 
 ing that could not be done to-morrow as well as to 
 day. The place was slumberous, drowsy, restful. 
 
 45
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Then breaking the stillness came a sharp 
 whistle from the mouth of the cove. 
 
 The idlers opened their eyes ; the man with the 
 fork stopped for a moment his monotonous work; 
 the man at the scales chalked his count, and the 
 wharf took on an air of business as the Aucocisco 
 steamed slowly alongside. 
 
 Across the gang-plank, holding their skirts 
 tightly and sniffing at the pile of fish came two 
 ladies. One was old, imperious, with white hair, 
 and gray eyes, full of shrewdness, and of worldly 
 wisdom. The other though younger, had much 
 the same features, but there was more of curiosity 
 than shrewdness in her dark eyes more of knowl 
 edge than of wisdom. 
 
 Keeping carefully away from contact with his 
 fish, the old lady addressed the man with the fork. 
 
 "Can you tell me," she said, with the most 
 modern accent, "where we can find a yacht called 
 the Phyllis?" 
 
 "There she lays," he motioned, abruptly. 
 
 She glanced in the direction indicated and saw 
 the yacht anchored in the middle of the cove. 
 
 46
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Gracious, " she demanded. "How shall we 
 ever get to it?" 
 
 "You might go in a boat," he suggested. 
 
 She looked at the little skiffs bobbing up and 
 down on the undulating surface of the water, and 
 shuddered. 
 
 "I m sure that I should be dreadfully seasick," 
 she confessed. 
 
 He reassured her. "Not to-day," he smiled. 
 Then he stuck his fork into an unusually large fish 
 and threw it into the basket. The man at the 
 scales resumed his counting. 
 
 Then one of the idlers sauntered over to the 
 ladies. 
 
 "I can take you over," he said confidently, "in 
 my motor boat." 
 
 The elderly lady was about to interpose an 
 objection, when the other intervened. 
 
 "That will do nicely," she agreed 
 
 On board the Phyllis the mate, the engineer, and 
 fireman, were indulging in a little game of poker. 
 The engineer held a bob-tailed flush, and in his 
 exaltation his mind was full of the joy of winning. 
 
 47
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 He nodded loftily towards the fireman whose luck 
 all of the afternoon had been indifferent. 
 
 "Jake, " he triumphed, as he fanned his cards. 
 "What would you do if you had all the money you 
 wanted?" 
 
 "I d go back to New York," he answered 
 promptly. 
 
 The engineer threw down his cards and swept 
 the chips into his pile. 
 
 "This is good enough for me," he asserted. "If 
 a man 
 
 The mate who was watching the motor boat as 
 she left the wharf, saw it heading straight for the 
 Phyllis. 
 
 "Chuck it," he commanded, peremptorily. 
 "Lady visitors." 
 
 In a moment, with the alacrity due to con 
 tinual practice, the cards disappeared with the 
 engineer and fireman: and the mate, in uniform, 
 stood at the rail as the motor boat puffed along 
 side. 
 
 "They want to go aboard," the boatman ex 
 plained. 
 
 48
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Against orders," answered the mate. "Owner 
 and captain ashore." 
 
 "Gracious," the old lady gasped. 
 
 "Bill," said the boatman to the mate, in a deep 
 whisper, as the two came close together, "you bet 
 ter risk it, if you want to hold your job." 
 
 And the ladies went aboard. 
 
 49
 
 IX 
 
 T .^HEN the yacht s launch hove in sight, around 
 Y Y the point of the cove, Bill shaded his 
 eyes with a big hairy hand, from the slant 
 ing rays of the afternoon sun, and gave vent to a 
 low whistle. 
 
 "I ll swear to Guinea," he muttered, "if there 
 ain t th capt n with another lady. Next thing th 
 boss will come along and the whole crew will get 
 fired." 
 
 As he helped Hilda over the side of the Phyllis, 
 she fluttered to the deck, in her white gown, like 
 a sea gull, lightly, gracefully. "Thank you, 
 mate," she smiled. He reddened with pleasure. 
 
 50
 
 AS Nelson was stepping into the launch to go 
 aboard the Phyllis, the captain thumbed 
 around in his vest pocket and, after some 
 fruitless searching amongst numerous tightly 
 folded bits of soiled paper, produced a carefully 
 rolled little packet of brown paper, which he pro 
 ceeded! to disentangle from a mesh of knotted 
 twine. Within the inner fold were two white visit 
 ing cards. These the skipper handed to Nelson 
 with as much care as if they were precious bits of 
 spun glass. 
 
 "The ladies," he said, apologetic, though why 
 he should apologize one can only surmise. 
 Nelson took the cards and read. 
 "Mrs. Ralph Thomas." 
 "Miss Anne Conrad." 
 
 Then he tore them into four pieces and quietly 
 dropped them overboard. 
 
 51
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 There was silence for a few minutes, nothing 
 save the pit-e, pit-e, pit-e, pit-e, of the motor as 
 the launch skimmed over the quiet waters of the 
 harbor. 
 
 "Did, er Miss Gunther meet the ladies?" Nel 
 son asked. 
 
 "Hilda?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 The captain bent his head low over the machin 
 ery. Apparently something had gone wrong. 
 
 "I think she did," he nodded thoughtfully. 
 
 Nelson pondered. 
 
 Presumably he was still thinking of the meeting 
 between Hilda and the two ladies who had come of 
 their own volition to visit him on the yacht. 
 
 They seemed to have made themselves quite at 
 home. They apologized for their intrusion, and 
 said that they were on their way to Bar Harbor, 
 but had heard of the Phyllis in Portland, and had 
 run down to see him. They hoped that they had 
 not interfered with any of his plans. 
 
 "She would come." Anne complained as she 
 sank into a chair beside the other. 
 
 52
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Nelson received them politely. 
 
 "We have been all over the yacht," said Mrs. 
 Thomas. "It s wonderfully complete." 
 
 "I never saw so many books, why they are 
 everywhere. Do you read them all?" she marveled. 
 
 "I have read them all," he admitted. 
 
 "Fancy," sighed Anne, as she moved away, 
 while Mrs. Thomas drew her chair a little closer to 
 Nelson. 
 
 "I wanted to ask you," she began, "whether you 
 had any particular reason for remaining here. We 
 have awaited your return to Portland for over a 
 week." 
 
 "No very particular reason," he asserted 
 boldly. His face shaded a deeper red than usual, 
 but that might have been due to his invigorating 
 walks on Orr s Island. 
 
 "Then why on earth do you stay in this dreadful 
 place?" she exclaimed. 
 
 "Dreadful place," he echoed. His eyes lifted in 
 voluntarily to the blue sky and then dropped to 
 the bluer sea. He sniffed the soft, delicious air and 
 shook his head. 
 
 58
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "I regret, my dear aunt," he said, "that I don t 
 quite agree with you. The place to me is simply 
 delightful." 
 
 "Simply. Phew ! I can smell that pile of fish, 
 even here," she shuddered. 
 
 "Some people sell one thing, some another, these 
 people sell fish," he said politely. 
 
 "We thought it would be nice if you would take 
 us to Bar Harbor," the old lady suggested. 
 
 "Oh, do," said Anne, who had rejoined them 
 at the right moment. 
 
 Nelson placed his elbows on the arms of his 
 chair, put the tips of his fingers together and ap 
 peared to think, deeply. 
 
 "I would like to very much, but 
 
 "Well?" questioned Mrs. Thomas. 
 
 "My time is so fully occupied," he regretted. 
 Tiny wrinkles appeared between her well-trained 
 eyebrows. Her features lost their benign expres 
 sion and appeared harsh and worldly. Her voice 
 was almost raspy. 
 
 "Anne !" she called. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 54
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Tell Nelson what you heard in Portland." 
 
 "Oh dear it was nothing nothing at all," 
 she expostulated. Then she sauntered up the deck, 
 to get a better view of the cove. 
 
 "I don t believe it," said the old lady as she 
 lowered her voice, "but people are talking." 
 
 "Yes," by holding his teeth tightly shut, and in 
 haling deeply, he obtained a fairly satisfactory 
 yawn. "People are always talking, more or 
 less," he commented. 
 
 Mrs. Thomas came about and went on the other 
 tack. The wrinkles on her brow disappeared, she 
 smiled and her manner was more genial. 
 
 "The subject is not always very entertaining 
 either," she laughed. "Coming down from New 
 port we had several hours of an animated discus 
 sion of the question whether Count Schyroski ever 
 wore the same suit of clothes twice. We grew quite 
 excited over it." 
 
 "Think of it," he mused, as one who considered 
 the matter too trivial for discussion. He yawned 
 surreptitiously. Annoyed, vexed, Mrs. Thomas 
 gathered her wits together for a final explanation. 
 
 55
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 To have come all the way, to have followed him 
 for nothing! to this poor, out of the way place. 
 Her mind had been set on the trip, her plans all 
 made for her nephew, for Anne. And then his 
 manner, something entirely new in his tone of 
 voice, his cool refusal, his indifference she had 
 observed his yawn all proceeded from some cause, 
 at present unknown to her. 
 
 Was it unknown to her? 
 
 "Nelson," she said confidentially, "what do you 
 find so charming about this fishy place?" 
 
 He smiled, good naturedly. 
 
 "Well," he said, "there are lots of things." 
 
 "For example ?" she demanded. 
 
 "Well," he explained, "the air, the green grass, 
 the simple life." 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders. "There is plenty 
 of air, I ll admit ; is it the air or the grass that so 
 fully occupies your time?" She laughed a cul 
 tured staccato. 
 
 "Both," he averred, solemnly. 
 
 "Nonsense," she said, reproachfully, "how long 
 are you going to stay?" 
 
 56
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "I haven t the least idea," he said truthfully. 
 
 She eyed him carefully, inquisitively. 
 
 "I knew it," she sighed. "It s a woman !" 
 
 "My dear aunt, it s always a woman," he 
 answered, sententiously. 
 
 "But in this particular case, it might be a fisher 
 man s daughter?" the old lady suggested. 
 
 "As you will," he temporized. 
 
 She straightened her back and turned impatient 
 ly in her seat. "Fishermen are such an ordinary 
 class," she counselled. 
 
 "Saint Peter was a fisherman," he argued, "his 
 opinion had great influence in the Christian 
 Church. I should say that as joint-founder of the 
 Church at Rome he was far from being ordinary." 
 
 "Oh, Nelson, I mean, her family," she con 
 tended. "You know perfectly well, but you pre 
 fer to argue the matter." 
 
 "Whose family is under discussion?" he asked. 
 And as he spoke he threw back his head, as a man 
 who had no fear of man or woman. His indolent 
 manner disappeared, and his question was brisk, 
 abrupt. His large brown eyes, glowing with 
 
 57
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 friendliness, gazed frankly into hers they seemed 
 to invite her confidence. 
 
 She met his gaze with equanimity. 
 
 "Miss Gunther s, " she said, calmly. 
 
 "A very charming young woman," he asserted 
 boldly. 
 
 She glanced forward, at Anne who was still 
 viewing the prospect from the bow. 
 
 "But, as I said before, people are talking. One 
 cannot be too careful," she cautioned. 
 
 "The people be, blamed," he said. 
 
 "Still my dear Nelson, when a charming young 
 woman rows a mile or so from shore in a small boat, 
 alone, and you take her on board the Phyllis, and 
 and disappear for a week ; what must they 
 think?" she went on. 
 
 "They might think that it was time to leave me 
 to my fate," he suggested. She sniffed the air, and 
 sighed in a way that indicated her opinion of the 
 young woman in question, and continued. 
 
 "It will amount to a scandal if she continues to 
 stay on the yacht." 
 
 "Stay on the yacht," he looked surprised. 
 58
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "I saw her here this afternoon," she insisted. 
 
 He laughed. "So you did, I m glad that you 
 met her." 
 
 "We did not meet her," she corrected, with 
 much dignity, "we did not even speak to her." 
 
 "Then I m sorry that you did not meet her, and 
 that you did not have the good fortune to speak to 
 her," he bowed urbanely. 
 
 A carefully modulated, perfectly correct laugh 
 came from the direction of the bow, and the 
 swish of a lustrous petticoat. 
 
 "If you two are going to talk secrets all even 
 ing," interrupted Anne, "I am going to order a 
 solitary cup of tea." 
 
 "We have finished," said Nelson, with determina 
 tion, "and your suggestion is timely, I ll call the 
 steward." 
 
 59
 
 XI 
 
 IN the recesses of his cabin, Nelson indulged in 
 the gentle stimulation produced by what the 
 French call an aperatif, the English a pick- 
 me-up, and the Americans a cocktail. 
 
 It was of the variety known as a Martini made 
 in his steward s most elaborate style a real old 
 fashioned Martini, the ingredients of which blend 
 and intermix into one gratifying compound. At 
 his club it was highly commended as an efficacious 
 remedy for extreme cases of irritability. 
 
 As he balanced the thin empty glass between 
 thumb and finger the wrinkles on his brow disap 
 peared, his eyes grew brighter, and he began to 
 take a more cheerful interest in the things about 
 him. Amongst these objects was a little packet of 
 letters that had accumulated at the Lafayette 
 Hotel, in Portland his last known address and 
 which the mate had brought with him, together 
 
 60
 
 with sundry other packages, the day before. Put 
 ting down his glass he carefully sorted over the 
 little bundle; separating the delicately tinted, 
 large square envelopes from the business ones with 
 their brazen corner cards. The latter he set to one 
 side, with a toss of impatience, and then went over 
 the others more leisurely. One letter, embossed on 
 its flap, engaged his attention. 
 
 "That s from Lighthall," he suddenly remem 
 bered, as the point of his knife slipped under the 
 cover. "By George ! I forgot all about him." 
 It was awkward, complicated. 
 
 "Dear Nelson:" it commenced. 
 
 "If you really mean it I shall come, 
 with great pleasure. Your letter 
 reached me in Newport beastly dull 
 there, nothing doing at all excepting the 
 stupid old fun of watching the antics of 
 the sudden rich. Am writing this from 
 N. Y. Just ran down for a day or so, to 
 put up more margin. Market is on the 
 toboggan slide. Will meet you in Port 
 land, Lafayette, Aug. 10th." 
 61
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Nelson looked over the top of the letter to a 
 highly colored calendar, that hung on the panel 
 above his desk. 
 
 "August the tenth," he exclaimed, "why that s 
 to-day !" 
 
 He recalled the circumstances. He called to 
 mind, reluctantly, the idle hour and fatuous mood 
 in which he had written the letter, inviting Light- 
 hall to share the monotony of his vacation on the 
 Phyllis. Then, not having received an immediate 
 answer, he had forgotten all about it. "August 
 the tenth," he repeated, "did I say the tenth?" He 
 pulled the ends of his drooping mustache together, 
 and meditated. Then his face grew brighter, and 
 his manner indicated one whose mind was made up. 
 
 He sent for the captain. 
 
 "Botts," he said hurriedly, "how far is it to 
 Portland?" 
 
 The skipper s glance included the empty glass, 
 the owner s genial face, and the view of the cove 
 as seen through the cabin window. 
 
 " Bout the same as it was comin ," he replied 
 wondering. 
 
 62
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORE S ISLAND 
 
 "I mean how soon could we get there?" Nelson 
 corrected. 
 
 "We could do it in an hour, easy," affirmed the 
 captain.
 
 XII 
 
 A/f EANWHILE, Charlie Lighthall was wander- 
 / 1. ing around the office rotunda of the Lafay 
 ette Hotel, waiting for something to turn 
 up. He was of a type that can be seen almost any 
 day in the cafe of any urban club. Small, slightly 
 stooping, he wore a brown derby hat, a brown 
 drooping mustache, a high standing collar, large 
 loose-fitting, checked garments, light blue hose, 
 and yellow shoes. In one hand he carried a pair of 
 yellow dogskin gloves, and in the other he had a 
 cane with an oversized bone handle. He looked 
 weary as he smoked a large brown cigar, encased 
 in a paper ring of red and gold. His patience was 
 exhausted. 
 
 "I ll wait until eight o clock," he said to him 
 self, "and then it s me for little old N. Y. Ugh !" 
 he complained, "think of a town of this size and 
 not a drop to drink," he was vexed. 
 
 64
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 He glanced at the office clock, and settled him 
 self near a window. As he smoked he became con 
 scious of the fact that a man, dressed in very 
 ordinary clothes, was watching him closely, in 
 fact was deliberately staring at him. 
 
 To emphasize his annoyance at the fellow s rude 
 ness, he arose, turned his chair, and sat down again 
 with his back to the curious stranger. 
 
 "Now, confound you!" he muttered irritably, 
 "gape and be 
 
 "Hello, little feller," somebody said, just 
 behind him, and he looked up to find the inquisitive 
 stranger laughing in his face. 
 
 "Well, I ll be Nelson !" he gasped. 
 
 "Right, but not the first time. I fooled you 
 all right, and anybody who can fool Charles Lynd- 
 hurst Lighthall, why it will be simply a walk-over 
 with with the Islanders." 
 
 Lighthall planted his cane behind him for a 
 brace, looked up into his friend s beaming face and 
 joined in the laugh. 
 
 "I m sympathetic," he marvelled, "what s the 
 game?" .... 
 
 65
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "And you are suddenly called to New York, this 
 evening, on important business," repeated Light- 
 hall. 
 
 "Important business, that s right. Tell her, 
 that is, hint to her, that you heard on the street 
 that I was short of Amalgamated, or any old 
 thing." Nelson suggested. 
 
 "And that you had to leave here on the Bar 
 Harbor express, this 
 
 He glanced at the clock, and shook his head. 
 "But you can t do it." 
 
 "Do what?" asked Nelson, fidgety. 
 
 "It s eight o clock, and the express leaves at 
 eight five," he sat back in his chair, -stretched his 
 legs, and yawned, 
 
 "Oh that is immaterial." 
 
 "Then you are not going to New York?" 
 
 "You can tell her" 
 
 "I shall not," said Lighthall bluntly. 
 
 The "little feller" sat up straight in his chair 
 and returned Nelson s stare. 
 
 "Not a deliberate lie, you know," he explained. 
 
 Nelson s face reddened with anger. 
 66
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Lie," he repeated, "certainly not." 
 
 There was an awkward silence. 
 
 Nelson saw his reflection in the plate glass op 
 posite. His anger seemed to increase. Perhaps he 
 was thinking that the sacrifice of his mustache was 
 a small affair as compared to the rebuke just ad 
 ministered by yes, that was probably the most 
 humiliating thing of all Charlie Lighthall! The 
 butt for all the club. A man whom his friends 
 never took seriously. He was paying quite a price 
 for his fun. "Fun nothing of the kind," he re 
 torted mentally, "I believe that I could lie and 
 steal for Hilda." 
 
 Then his glance softened as he turned to Light- 
 hall. "A lie that does no one any harm, is classed 
 differently I imagine." 
 
 "A lie, is a lie," his companion asserted dogged 
 ly. At the same time his thin nostrils dilated with 
 pride. It was something to his credit to corner the 
 big man in front of him. Nelson was known to 
 quite a wide circle of readers for his admirable 
 work called "Creative Crudities," a sort of lament 
 over the so-called mistakes of Providence a book 
 
 67
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 of keen subtleties ; and to find the author below his 
 ideals, temporizing with the truth, it gave him a 
 feeling of self-exaltation. 
 
 Nelson smiled good-naturedly. 
 
 "All right," he said, "call it what you please, 
 but do me the favor to say to my aunt, that the 
 yacht is at her disposal, to go where she pleases, 
 and that you will accompany her and Miss 
 Conrad." 
 
 "And you won t go with us?" questioned the 
 other suspiciously. 
 
 Nelson detected the equivocal expression on his 
 face. 
 
 "I really must attend to a matter of very serious 
 importance," he said, apologetic. Then he arose, 
 and Lighthall followed him to the door of the 
 hotel. 
 
 "That carriage," he said, pointing to one at the 
 curb, "will take you to the wharf, the launch is 
 waiting there." 
 
 Lighthall turned back. 
 
 "My baggage," he said, advancing towards the 
 office. 
 
 68
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Nelson overtook him. 
 
 "It is in the carriage, and I took the liberty of 
 settling your bill." 
 
 Lighthall protested. 
 
 "A mere trifle, please." Nelson gripped his 
 hand with unaccustomed fervor. 
 
 "Botts will see to everything," he reminded him. 
 "You are really doing me a great favor. Good- 
 bye." .... 
 
 "Confound it!" said Nelson desperately, "what 
 an arrant fool am I becoming, anyway. Have I 
 reached all these years to find myself the victim of 
 love at first sight?" .... 
 
 He was seated in an easy chair in his room at the 
 Lafayette, where the hum of the street rose and 
 fell in the still night air. Beyond the city was the 
 bay, its waters gleaming like burnished silver in the 
 moon s rays, the air from its surface fanning his 
 brow. Beneath his window, over the way, in the 
 cool green of a little park, there was a perpetual 
 tinkling of drops of water gently splashing in a 
 tiny fountain. Nelson had a little table by his side, 
 and he was trying to start the new book on a sub- 
 
 69
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 ject that had been weaving weaving, tormenting 
 and troubling him for some time past. 
 
 But now he put down his pencil, and went over 
 again the meeting with Hilda. As the picture 
 developed, he saw the little white boat and its oc 
 cupant, rising and falling on the silky surface of 
 the water; and the glory of her hair. Then the 
 coloring of the picture became more vivid, he could 
 almost hear her voice, round, flexible, a woman s 
 voice. He observed now, with increasing interest, 
 the suppleness of her figure, as her lithe body bent 
 to the stroke of the oars, and her eyes, looking 
 straight into his. Luminous dark blue eyes, show 
 ing dreamily through the surrounding crimson 
 haze. And her flashing white teeth. The picture 
 vanished, and he found himself saying "bo it" for 
 boat. 
 
 Then he got up and examined his features in the 
 mirror. His smooth face looked back at him from 
 the glass. "Fool, old fool," he muttered scorn 
 fully. Then he went back to the window, and 
 watched the movements of the people passing to 
 and fro. And as he contemplated the peaceful 
 
 70
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 scene, a feeling of quiet happiness, of content, began 
 to grow within him, so that his heart grew tender, 
 and he repeated the accusation, "fool, old fool," 
 in a friendly tone. And the feeling of quiet hap 
 piness grew and expanded into a sudden illumina 
 tion of rare brightness. The starry night, the deli 
 cious smell of the sea, the voices of the night, the 
 tinkling of the drops of water falling from the 
 fountain, all seemed to take on a new, a poignant 
 sense, harmonious, blissful. 
 
 He sat down again and took up his pencil. He 
 was resolved to carry out his original thought. 
 "Creative Crudities," must be followed by some 
 thing even more scholarly, more convincing, 
 learned. But it must also be Life. 
 
 His resolution to break away from his surround 
 ings, to mingle with the simple Islanders, was no 
 hastily formed plan, so he argued to himself. He 
 had shaved his mustache, cast aside his fine raiment, 
 and donned an ordinary suit of ready-made clothes, 
 so that he could be one of them, live with them, and 
 study their habits. And then, he would write his 
 book. He began to scribble on the pad, in search 
 
 71
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 of a title. "The Masses," he wrote. "That sounds 
 well," he commented. "I could write about their 
 work, their toil." Then his heart began singing, 
 as he recalled the vision of a road up-hill and down, 
 Avinding through forests of pines, and maples, of 
 alluring by-paths, soft, green, mossy. Of over 
 hanging boughs, of little white cottages buried 
 deep in orchards. 
 
 "Nonsense," he complained, "I ve had too much 
 vacation. I must get to work." 
 
 He bent over the little table. He tried to con 
 centrate his mind on the problem of Life. He 
 worked hard over two or three fine phrases. Then 
 he threw down his pencil and stared out of the 
 window 
 
 It was there again, the picture. Her deep blue 
 eyes, laughing, teasing, indifferent. He could see 
 them plainly, in the blithesome awakening that had 
 come to him through the darkness. 
 
 Again he took his pad of paper, and began to 
 write. Then he threw it impetuously across the 
 room. "No," he said. 
 
 "Not to-night, not to-night." 
 72
 
 XIII 
 
 THE next morning,- what a different feeling it 
 brings to each individual life Nelson awoke 
 to a world that was the same, and yet, that 
 was different. A flood of sunlight brightened 
 every corner of his room, touching the old furni 
 ture, radiating from the mirror, freshening the 
 faded curtains, harmonizing the tints and shadows 
 on the wall, burnishing, gliding, beautifying every 
 angle, every nook, of the apartment. 
 
 He awoke to the joy of life, to the wonderful 
 beauty of the world, to the song that his heart was 
 singing in chorus with the birds that were twit 
 tering outside of his window. 
 
 His watch on the little table at his bedside 
 marked the early hour of six, as he arose and began 
 his preparations for the day. Over in the corner, 
 where he had thrown it the night before, he found 
 his tablet, and he wondered as he regarded the 
 
 73
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 words that he had written whether "The Masses" 
 expressed the thoughts that were rioting through 
 his brain. I imagine that such were his thoughts, 
 for his face grew troubled as he read aloud: 
 
 "With the masses there is much of gloom, and 
 misery, their work is constant, their pleasures few ; 
 they go about 
 
 Zip he tore off that page and crumpled it in 
 his hand. 
 
 "When they return at night to their comfort 
 less homes their hearts are as lead, and their 
 moods 
 
 Zip zip another, and another page followed 
 the first, and behold the pad was clean and new 
 again, its smooth white surface ready for new im 
 pressions 
 
 In his outward appearance he had changed 
 greatly. His mustache had been shaved and his 
 hair cut so short that it revealed an incipient bald 
 ness on the back of his head. When he had added 
 a pair of large spectacles the glasses of which 
 were plain and of no convexity his best friends 
 
 might have failed to recognize him 
 
 74
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 He chose to go down to Orr s Island on the 
 afternoon boat the Aucocisco because, well, 
 because there might be a chance of meeting Hilda. 
 
 Of course, even though such a coincidence oc 
 curred, she would not have known him in his dis 
 guise. So, one can only guess at his motives, 
 which, however, were strong enough to keep Nel 
 son idling around Portland all of that day in a 
 kind of fool s paradise. 
 
 In half an hour he had deposited sundry checks 
 in the bank, had obtained a small pocket check 
 book, to be used in case of dire necessity, and then 
 had walked down to the end of a wharf, from which 
 point he could see the Phyllis, riding lazily at 
 anchor in the harbor. 
 
 Overhead, a light breeze blew faintly in from the 
 sea; long low schooners with three four five 
 masts lay deep in the water, heavily burdened with 
 coal from Southern mines. A large white steamer 
 from Boston, crowded with passengers, swept 
 majestically past him. Sail boats of infinite 
 variety tacked, went about, and sailed away, only 
 to return and repeat their manoauvres. Just beside 
 
 75
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 him two men in a boat were cautiously sorting over 
 a pile of lobsters, looking for shorts. The air 
 was full of the enticing odors that arise from 
 wharves and shipping ; the smell of tarred rope, 
 of wooden boxes and barrels, of all the odoriferous 
 smells that hang in a boy s memory and incite 
 him to the folly of truancy. 
 
 The bay, in the glow of the early day, was blue 
 as sapphire. In the distance was an island, and 
 beyond that could be seen the dim outlines of other 
 islands, and more islands almost lost to view in 
 the summer haze 
 
 From place to place he sauntered idly the long 
 summer s day. Then he began to consult his 
 watch, and each time that he looked at it he would 
 examine sharply the movements of the second hand, 
 to see whether it was really moving. From four 
 o clock until five, time dragged with the most exas 
 perating slowness. From five o clock until ten 
 minutes after, the Aucocisco seemed to his impa 
 tient mind to be permanently built to the wharf. 
 
 A moment later she backed out slowly into the 
 harbor. Standing on the after-deck, Nelson 
 
 7G
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 scanned the various craft, in search of the Phyllis. 
 She was nowhere in view. Then he went forward 
 and there was the yacht, just crossing the steamer s 
 bow. He was so close to them that he could dis 
 tinguish his aunt and Anne, on the deck, appar 
 ently in close conversation with Lighthall. Prob 
 ably the latter was telling the ladies how he, 
 Nelson, had been called suddenly away on busi 
 ness to New York and his aunt was exchanging 
 glances with Anne, over Lighthall s head while 
 she listened to his explanations. Then they would 
 laugh and sail away. 
 
 "Good luck, good luck," he muttered exultantly. 
 Then he pushed up two steamer chairs close to the 
 rail, and pulling his pipe from a side pocket he 
 filled it leisurely, and, sitting down, he lazily put 
 his feet on the other chair, and gave himself up to 
 blissful anticipation. 
 
 The sun shone gently, through a haze of pinkish 
 yellow. On the horizon, soft grey clouds edged 
 with narrow bands of gold mingled with the blue 
 of the sea a mirror-like sea that reflected the 
 colors of the sky in its translucent depths. Then 
 
 77
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 gently, quietly, came to his ear the sound of music. 
 Somewhere in the bow were a couple of musicians 
 with a harp and violin. He listened as the strains 
 wafted towards him on the light breeze, and remem 
 bering the words, he murmured them softly, keep 
 ing time to the music. 
 
 It was Schubert s he searched his memory in 
 the effort of recalling the last time that he had 
 heard it ; then he abandoned the effort. 
 
 It was never like this, no matter where he had 
 heard it. He was content to sit and hum the 
 words : 
 "Midst the bright sheen of the mirror-like waters, 
 
 Swan-like is floating the wavering boat; 
 Gently along on those glittering waters, 
 Glideth our spirit, away like a boat." 
 
 The evening was settling calm and peacefully 
 over the bay, and now the crafts of all kinds were 
 sailing to anchor gliding silently to their re 
 spective harbors. When the music had ceased a 
 dark-featured man, his head bare, his hat in his 
 hand, came to him for a contribution. 
 
 In his present mood he was generous. 
 78
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Crumpling up a dollar bill in his hand so as to 
 avoid publicity, he dropped it in the hat. The ex 
 pressive dark eyes of the man twinkled understand- 
 ingly. Leaning over Nelson he said in a low tone, 
 "The next, I play for you yes." He nodded, and 
 smiled confidentially. Then he went forward and 
 whispered to his companion, to the man with the 
 harp. There was much preliminary tuning, and 
 then the popular melody arose in the air from 
 Spenser s Opera: 
 
 "Love, love, mystery of love, 
 Sweet gift sent from above; 
 Joy, joy, moment supreme, 
 When love unfolds its dream." 
 He leaned forward in rapt attention. The spirit 
 of the dreamy waltz was calling calling to him 
 alone amongst the crowd of passengers. The soul 
 of the old violin was vibrating with the joy of life, 
 it was telling him things, little promises of future 
 possibilities, that thrilled his heart with blissful 
 anticipation. 
 
 How it recalled a certain night, a box in the 
 theatre from which he could see a wide expanse of 
 
 79
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 upturned faces tense, happy, hopeful! How he 
 had shrugged his shoulders, and smiled cynically ! 
 He glanced around the groups of pas 
 sengers. Many of them were summer boarders, on 
 their way to the several islands. He noticed 
 their faces pale and drawn, with the blight of the 
 city upon them. Some were Islanders, returning 
 with their purchases made in Portland. In front 
 of him were two college boys he knew by their 
 conversation dressed in rough, dirty corduroys, 
 flannel shirts, and leather belts around their waists. 
 They looked like cowboys. They were unwashed 
 and unshaven, and their actions indicated a desire 
 on their part to live up to their appearance. 
 Nelson regarded them closely, with an eye for 
 material in his forthcoming book, and then dis 
 carded them as counterfeits not genuine. He 
 surveyed the little group of people with good- 
 natured tolerance. Each individual seemed to be 
 bent on business, action, the restless energy of the 
 masses. But surrounding them and enveloping 
 them was the calm of the evening of rest. And 
 the delicious smell of the sea cool, refreshing, 
 
 SO
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 that permeated his senses, and inspired his imagi 
 nation bringing back memories that were not 
 memories, but imaginings, illusive images of the 
 mind, that filled his heart with the pleasures of 
 hope, and a longing for fulfillment .... 
 Suddenly, with a bump against the piling of the 
 wharf, the Aucocisco came to a standstill, and a 
 voice recalled his wandering senses : 
 
 "All off for Orr s Island." 
 
 A little crowd of idlers had gathered on the 
 wharf to await the arrival of the evening boat it 
 was one of the mild excitements of each day. He 
 had just crossed the gang plank, when he noticed 
 a face, upturned to the boat, in the full glare of a 
 large lantern, within reach of his hand ; he brushed 
 against her garments as he passed. 
 
 "Hilda," he whispered to himself. 
 
 Then he walked up to the hotel and wrote his 
 new name in the guest book: 
 
 "William Collins, Philadelphia." 
 
 81
 
 XIV 
 
 "OERCHED up on the hillside, overlooking the 
 X rocks and the sea, in the shade of a young 
 pine tree, where the air was always warm 
 and soft, where the birds sang in the trees over 
 head, Hilda, dressed in white skirt and gray knit 
 jacket, with a bunch of red berries pinned in her 
 belt, was reading a letter from Grace. 
 
 "So you actually stopped the yacht, 
 and made him take you aboard. Well, 
 Hilda, I could never have done such a 
 thing and all by yourself. John said 
 it was nervy, but he is a man. I sent 
 the gloves right off, because I hate to 
 owe anything, and am glad they suited 
 you. 
 
 "Dear me, how romantic it was, I 
 wonder if Mr. Thomas is married. 
 Somehow I don t believe that he is, but of 
 82
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 course one can never tell. I often wish 
 that we were rich and owned a yacht. 
 Don t you? John is just the dearest 
 husband, but he has to work so hard, 
 and slave all day down in the bank, and 
 in the evening he is so tired that we 
 never go anywhere. But we are saving 
 up to buy a motor boat, and when John 
 gets his vacation next summer perhaps 
 we are going to take a little cruise. 
 John says that Mr. Thomas must be 
 pretty rich judging by the size of the 
 checks that he deposited in the bank. 
 Don t say that I told you this, John 
 gets so angry when I say anything about 
 bank business, well, good-bye. 
 
 "P. S. I forgot to say that the 
 Phyllis left here last evening for Bar 
 Harbor so John told me, perhaps you 
 knew that, but I thought I would men 
 tion it." 
 
 Hilda gazed off into the sea, with its rippling 
 waves gently sliding up on the brown shelving 
 
 83
 
 13RUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 rocks, its white caps off in the distance ; over the 
 islands, in and out, and between which were white 
 sails; down to the motor boats, darting busily up 
 to one point, then to another, the fishermen busy 
 with their lobster pots. She picked a delicate blue 
 wild flower, growing at her feet, and put it in the 
 envelope, with the letter. 
 
 "The Phyllis in Bar Harbor," she sighed. 
 
 She arose and turned her face towards home 
 to the little white cottage on the hill. 
 
 "Well, I must do my work." 
 
 84
 
 PART SECOND
 
 4T .^ELL, Mr. Collins, how do you propose to 
 
 \Y study the masses on this tiny bit of God s 
 
 country?" Nelson reflected as he arose 
 
 the next morning and surveyed the prospect from 
 
 his open window. 
 
 It was beautiful as before; the quiet bay, the 
 ever changing sea, the keen salt air, the incense 
 from the pines were there; but he was different. 
 
 To a man of his tastes and habits the step that 
 he had taken was a long one in advance of any 
 thing that he had ever attempted. Until a few 
 days ago before a woman s voice had hailed him 
 from a little white boat, in Portland harbor he 
 had led a life more or less detached from ordinary 
 people, and had taken a certain kind of pleasure 
 in the fact that he could pursue his own fancy. 
 He had money, his pictures, his clubs, a few con 
 genial friends, his books, an artistic temperament, 
 
 87
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 an eye for beauty, and a sense of humor ; and with 
 all this he had a well-developed literary faculty 
 that enabled him to do some leisurely writing 
 when he was in the mood. As he had grown older 
 he had been writing more and reading less. He 
 had become more meditative, more addicted to idle 
 saunterings, and observation. From his books he 
 had deduced a sort of philosophy which taught 
 him to avoid the anticipation of the calamities that 
 do not happen, and to live, as far as possible, in 
 the present. He had had a wide experience in the 
 world of society, a tarnished world that was sham 
 and tinsel, with its ridiculous, pretentious, flum 
 mery. He had appraised women at what he 
 thought they were worth, as a necessary part of 
 the universal scheme, but not of an individual life. 
 Yet a woman s voice had called to him alone on 
 the water, and behold a world that is green and 
 fragrant, a real, sterling world, with an atmos 
 phere that set at naught his philosophy, that took 
 his mind from the present, to blissful anticipation 
 of the future. In the light of a bright morning 
 he was conscious that the step that he had taken
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 was not without its ludicrous side. When he 
 thought it over very judicially, he was obliged to 
 confess to himself that this sudden enthusiasm of 
 his to study the masses might evaporate into very 
 superficial observations, unless Hilda could be made 
 to take an interest in the subject, or at least be 
 herself a subject, a type of the poor fisher folks 
 whose wrongs he meant to set before the world in 
 the best literary style. He argued, plausibly, that 
 the honorarium that an indulgent publisher might 
 pay for his services, had nothing to do with the 
 case, as his fortune was ample for all his needs, and 
 his motives were purely benevolent. 
 
 The ludicrous feature was the intense desire that 
 he felt to meet her, to be with her, to hear her 
 talk, to gaze into her eyes, to confess all that he 
 had done for her. He was not in love, not this 
 morning, but a comrade, a fellow-student, would 
 help him wonderfully in the serious work for which 
 he had temporarily cast aside his life of luxurious 
 ease. But he must be careful. He must explain 
 to her without discovering himself just enough 
 of his plans to engage her interest. 
 
 89
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Therefore he must go and see her at once. So 
 he inquired the way to Hagen Gunther s cottage. 
 It was not hard to find. Everyone on the island 
 knew Captain Gunther. Everyone liked him. 
 
 He was called "old man Gunther," not because 
 he was old, but because everyone felt the necessity 
 of using some form of affection whenever they 
 spoke of him. He was stout, rosy-cheeked, genial, 
 with a pair of blue eyes that twinkled with an ex 
 cess of good nature. As Nelson approached he 
 was the first to speak. 
 
 "Fine morning." 
 
 "Delightful," said Nelson, with enthusiasm. 
 "Are you Captain Gunther?" 
 
 "That s my name," he admitted. 
 
 Having made up his mind what he was to say 
 he proceeded at once to business. 
 
 "Er, have you any rooms to let that is, one 
 room?" He scanned the little cotttage, wondering 
 where, in its diminutive interior, a spare room 
 could possibly be located. He felt the eyes of the 
 captain upon him, carefully inspecting him from 
 head to toe, in the covert, shrewd way that is 
 
 90
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 habitual with seamen. The survey was evidently 
 satisfactory. 
 
 "How long did you calculate to stay?" he ques 
 tioned. Then a voice came clearly. "Uncle 
 Hagen." And he met her face to face as she 
 suddenly appeared from the direction of the 
 orchard. 
 
 He bowed as the captain said simply, "My niece 
 Hilda." Then he continued, "This gentleman 
 wants to rent our spare room, Hilda ; you can 
 arrange that." He had settled the matter as far 
 as he was concerned, and he went whistling about 
 his business. 
 
 As he made his bow he was conscious of the fact 
 that she was looking him over with a critical eye ; 
 a trifle longer and more critically, perhaps, than 
 the circumstances warranted. It made him un 
 easy, and he felt his heart thumping, and his face 
 growing redder under her searching gaze. He 
 had decided to disguise his voice, if necessary, but 
 when he attempted it, the result was a sort of 
 quavering falsetto that -expired in his throat. 
 
 She stood smiling, unembarrassed ; and then, ap- 
 91
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 parently satisfied with her conclusions, perhaps 
 with just a slight tremor in her voice, "How long 
 would you like to stay?" she asked. 
 
 "Forever and forever," Nelson said to himself 
 as he beheld her loveliness. His self-possession 
 was returning. The calm way in which she had 
 addressed him on the business in hand was reassur 
 ing. It was evident from her manner that she 
 had no suspicion that he was other than a casual 
 summer boarder. 
 
 He had made an excellent beginning. 
 
 "I am uncertain," he answered her. "It all de 
 pends on you." 
 
 For the instant he had forgotten all about 
 his disguise, and had spoken his thoughts. Fort 
 unately she laughed, a trilling, sprightly cadence. 
 
 "On rne, " she wondered. 
 
 "On you," he went on steadily, his wits having 
 returned, "your Uncle seems to have left the mat 
 ter for you to arrange." 
 
 "Oh" 
 
 They stood for a few minutes in silence, beside 
 the stone curbing of an old well ; it was a sweep 
 
 92
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 well, where the bucket was hung to the end of a 
 long pole, by which it was lowered, and then drawn 
 to the surface filled to the brim with delicious pure 
 water, the same kind of a well that our forefathers 
 digged in the virgin rock, and walled up with 
 clean stone linings ; a well from which they drank 
 deep draughts of limpid water, and thanked God 
 for their blessings. 
 
 To be in her society was sufficient bliss ; to feel 
 the warm soft air, full of the pine-fragrance; to 
 hear the birds singing overhead, and the buzzing 
 of the insects. 
 
 It was Hilda who broke the silence. 
 
 "You may have the room as long as you wish," 
 she said thoughtfully. 
 
 "Thank you." He accepted fervently. "I ll 
 pay a month in advance." 
 
 "Oh " she stopped, hesitated. 
 
 "Well?" he wondered. 
 
 "I forgot to mention the price," she explained. 
 
 "Oh, never mind the price," he reassured her. 
 
 "It s five dollars a week, without meals," she 
 informed him. 
 
 93
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Without meals," he repeated carelessly. "Who 
 cares for meals, anyway?" he asked his exulting 
 spirit. Were they not standing side by side, 
 within touch of each other, conversing together, 
 looking into each other s eyes? 
 
 "The hotel is not far," she suggested. 
 
 "Only a step," he affirmed. "I can easily ar 
 range for meals." 
 
 He bowed, and was moving away. 
 
 "Oh" exclaimed Hilda. 
 
 He turned expectantly. 
 
 "Your name, " she reminded him. 
 
 "Name ? My name is Thomas Collins." 
 
 "Thomas Collins," she repeated, slowly. 
 
 "William," he corrected, "William Collins." 
 Then he pounded himself, mentally, for having so 
 nearly forgotten his part. 
 
 "You will be here this this evening?" she ques 
 tioned. 
 
 "If convenient, to you," he asked. 
 
 His heart was singing singing, his temples 
 throbbing with the quick pulsating joy of living. 
 Never was the sky so blue, the grass so green, the 
 
 94
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 air so keen and filled with ozone. Never was a lit 
 tle white cottage so artistic, in its setting of cling 
 ing vines and flowers. Never was a princess, in 
 fame or fiction, who could compare with the de 
 mure maiden who stood before him. 
 
 "Quite convenient," she said, flashing a smile 
 into his eyes that near caused him giddiness: and 
 she walked away, through the orchard, toward the 
 pines. 
 
 95
 
 II 
 
 NELSON S study of the masses began the day 
 following. He had Uncle Hagen marooned 
 in an old splint-bottomed chair, in a shady 
 place, behind the barn. The captain had done 
 most of his chores about the place, finishing his 
 afternoon tasks by carrying two large tin buckets 
 of fresh water from the well to the kitchen. Nel 
 son sat in a sailor s hammock that swung between 
 two sturdy apple trees. As he swung slowly to 
 and fro he could observe a graceful figure, en 
 veloped in a voluminous apron, flitting back and 
 forth, from one room to the other, in the cottage. 
 The figure was doing her best to keep out of his 
 sight, and attend to her household duties at the 
 same time. The windows were wide open, and her 
 efforts required some skilful manoeuvres. 
 
 "You can t make much " asserted Nelson. 
 "I m not what you might call rich," the cap- 
 96
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 tain admitted. "But we don t have much use for 
 money down here." 
 
 He pulled down the peak of his old canvas cap 
 to shade his eyes from the slanting rays of the 
 afternoon sun, and puffed at his pipe contentedly. 
 
 Nelson shifted his seat a little, to obtain a bet 
 ter view of the cottage windows, and lapsed into 
 silence. 
 
 Uncle Hagen peered from under his cap, watch 
 ing him. "Now, what might your business be?" 
 he inquired, frankly. 
 
 "My business ?" "Oh I write books and 
 things." 
 
 "Any money in it?" said the captain, swinging 
 one leg over the other, and holding his elbow in 
 the palm of his hand. 
 
 "Not much," Nelson confessed. 
 
 "Should think not, never suit me." 
 
 He turned his chair a little, and glanced at the 
 boats in the bay. They had turned with the 
 ebbing tide, and were pulling restlessly at their 
 anchors. 
 
 "Now take fishing," he added, keeping his eye 
 97
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 on the boats. "Of course, it s hard work, but 
 when everything is going right, and a fair wind, 
 well, it suits me all right. There ain t any 
 thing better." 
 
 "There s not any money in fishing," Nelson 
 suggested. 
 
 "Money? no, I guess there ain t. But there s 
 a living. Ain t anybody starving on this island, 
 as I know of." 
 
 "Dangerous, and risky," persisted Nelson. 
 
 The captain smiled. "Sounds just like a story 
 book I always liked those tales of the dangers of 
 the sea, and the almighty deep. Hilda has one 
 with a boat up up where was it? in the North 
 Sea somewheres, with icebergs and monsters of 
 the deep, and the ship on fire, and sinking fast 
 with all on board." The captain waved the stem 
 of his pipe in the direction of the blue North. "I 
 always liked those tales, cause I never saw any 
 thing like it in my sea-faring, must be grand, 
 just for the experience," he mused. 
 
 "But you must have had some pretty tough ex 
 periences." Nelson contended. 
 
 98
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Most of us have, before we reach fifty, but 
 mine warn t uncommon just a little hustling 
 around, lively, for a while, but more often just 
 easy sailing." .... 
 
 Apparently the fisherman s mind reverted to the 
 stories of the "almighty deep," for between the 
 puffs of his pipe he drawled, "Wonder if the 
 fellow was ever there?" 
 
 "The fellow ?" queried Nelson. 
 
 "Um the fellow that wrote all that windy stuff 
 about the terrible storms, and the poor sailors out 
 in the blinding mist nd snow, with their bare feet 
 bleeding on the icy decks, he must have had a 
 grand experience." 
 
 "Oh " said Nelson, loftily, "an author does 
 not have to experience everything that he writes." 
 
 "No" 
 
 * 
 
 "Oh no," explained Nelson. "Why some of 
 the best books have been written about places that 
 the authors have never seen." 
 
 "How did they do it?" the captain demanded. 
 "It isn t in reason that a man can tell folks about 
 a thing he s never seen." He settled back in his 
 
 99
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 old splint rocker with the air of a man who had 
 his own opinions, let others think as they chose. 
 
 "Well " said Nelson, thoughtfully, "they use 
 their imagination : 
 
 "Just so," interrupted the captain, "and a 
 man s imagination will often carry him a long way 
 from the truth." 
 
 "Well, I don t know about that," said the other, 
 doubtfully. He abandoned the vantage point 
 from which he could view the cottage, and 
 stretched himself at full length on his back in the 
 hammock. The soft air fanned his face as he 
 swayed slowly back and forth, and the captain s 
 voice reached him at certain periods, in the inter 
 vals of which his mind was wondering in a world 
 of imagination. 
 
 "What a man imagines to-day often becomes the 
 truth to-morrow," he asserted. 
 
 "Like as not," assented the captain. "It s the 
 unexpected thing that always happens, so they 
 say, but my experience is that, if you keep think 
 ing and thinking about something, it s most sure 
 to happen." 
 
 100
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "You mean if you keep wishing and wishing for 
 something," suggested Nelson. 
 
 "That s the idea," the captain affirmed. 
 
 "Oh, that s not imagination ; that s suggestion. 
 You simply wish for a thing so much that your 
 mind begins to work out every conceivable idea 
 that will lead to its attainment." 
 
 "Maybe so," nodded the captain 
 
 He smoked steadily for a few moments, and then 
 he asked: "Been much on the water?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, quite often," replied Nelson. 
 
 "All the way across?" 
 
 "Across and around," he reflected. 
 
 "Around the world?" The captain removed 
 his pipe, and contemplated his companion with a 
 look of mingled deference and respect. Then he 
 reached over to the hammock and placed his hand 
 on Nelson s arm. "Now honest," he demanded, 
 "did you ever see anything like those monsters of 
 the deep, a throwing the life boats fifty feet in the 
 air, with the ship on fire, and icebergs crashing all 
 around, and sailors with bleeding feet a clinging 
 to the masts?" 
 
 101
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Nelson shook his head. 
 
 "No I never saw anything like that," he an 
 swered. "But, of course, such things might hap 
 pen," he added thoughtfully. 
 
 "Perhaps," the captain admitted, "but you ve 
 been across and around, and so have I, and I ve 
 followed the sea since I was ten years old, and 
 they never happened to us." 
 
 "That s so," mused Nelson, as he watched the 
 tiny spirals of smoke, curling upwards from the 
 chimney of the snug white cottage. 
 
 102
 
 Ill 
 
 IN his room that evening Nelson was wrapt in 
 gay visions of unreal bliss, with a deliberate 
 indulgence, that set at naught all of dear old 
 Cowper s warning. He painted the illusive form, 
 the kindling grace, the modest seeming eye, be 
 neath whose beauteous beams, belying Heaven 
 but why should we linger over Cowper? 
 
 "As yet," he muttered in gleesome mood, "as 
 yet, she doesn t dream who I am." He chuckled 
 complacently, and drawing his chair closer to the 
 window he allowed his eyes to rest on the splendor 
 of the starry heavens and lighted a cigarette. 
 Away off on the horizon, just above a wide reach 
 of dark restless water, the turret of a revolving 
 light flashed, and was dark, flashed and was dark 
 
 again 
 
 Lighting the kerosene lamp that stood on his 
 table he picked up a book as was his habit to 
 103
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 read a few pages before retiring for the night. 
 It was not a mere coincidence that the slim volume 
 happened to be Schopenhauer. He remembered 
 that he had selected it, together with a few other 
 works, to aid his researches in the preparation of 
 his book. 
 
 The article that arrested his attention seemed 
 to be an inspiration. 
 
 It was headed, "Sufferings of the World," and 
 he read: 
 
 "But misfortune has its uses ; for, as our bodily 
 frame would burst asunder if the pressure of the 
 atmosphere was removed, so, if the lives of men 
 were relieved of all need, hardship and adversity ; 
 if everything in hand were successful, they would 
 be so swollen with arrogance that, though they 
 might not burst, they would present the spectacle 
 of unbridled folly nay, they would go mad. And 
 I may say, further, that a certain amount of care 
 or pain or trouble is necessary for every man at 
 all times. A ship without ballast is unstable and 
 will not go straight. 
 
 "Certain it is that work, worry, labor and trou- 
 104
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 ble, form the lot of almost all men their whole life 
 long. But if all wishes were fulfilled as soon as 
 they arose, how would men occupy their lives? 
 What would they do with their time? If the 
 world were a paradise of luxury and ease, a land 
 flowing with milk and honey, where every Jack ob 
 tained his Jill at once and without any difficulty, 
 men would either die of boredom or hang them 
 selves ; or there would be wars, massacres, and mur 
 ders ; so that in the end mankind would inflict more 
 suffering on itself than it has now to accept at the 
 hands of Nature." 
 
 "Hm, Nelson laid aside the book and took 
 up his pad. He chewed the end of his pencil, 
 knitted his brows and contemplated the picture of 
 "A Storm at Sea" that hung on the wall. Then he 
 frowned, laid down his pad, and again took up his 
 book. Turning over the leaves, as a man will do 
 when the part that he has read is distasteful, his 
 eyes chanced on the following: 
 
 "For as lions are provided with claws and teeth, 
 and elephants and boars with tusks, bulls with 
 horns, and the cuttle fish with its cloud of inky 
 105
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 fluid, so Nature has equipped woman, for her de 
 fence and protection, with the arts of dissimula 
 tion ; and all the power which Nature has con 
 ferred upon man in the shape of physical strength 
 and reason, has been bestowed upon women in this 
 form. Hence, dissimulation is innate in woman, 
 and almost as much a quality of the stupid as of 
 the clever. It is as natural for them to make use of 
 it on every occasion as it is for those animals to 
 employ their means of defence when they are at 
 tacked; they have a feeling that in doing so they 
 are only within their rights. 
 
 "Therefore, a woman who is perfectly truthful 
 and not given to dissimulation is, perhaps, an im 
 possibility, and for this very reason they are so 
 quick at seeing through dissimulation in others 
 that it is not a wise thing to attempt it with 
 them." 
 
 "Balderdash, you old pessimist," he exclaimed 
 as he closed the book. Then, between visions of 
 Hilda, the twinkling stars, the flashing light-house, 
 and the voices of the night, his senses grew weaker. 
 
 He fell asleep 
 
 106
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 In her room adjoining with only a thin plaster 
 partition between sat Hilda, her head bent low, 
 intently engaged in writing an answer to her 
 friend Grace s last communication. I shall not 
 disclose all that was in that letter even a heroine 
 is entitled to some privacy but only certain parts 
 that seem to elucidate subsequent events. 
 
 . . . . "and, Oh Grace, what do 
 you think? I had made up my mind to 
 forget all about the yacht and its 
 owner, when I came back to the house, 
 and there I saw a strange man talking 
 to Uncle Hagen. He had his back to 
 me, but I heard him ask the man how 
 long he was going to stay, so that I 
 knew that he was a summer boarder, and 
 I didn t want any boarders, so I called 
 out to Uncle Hagen, and then the man 
 turned around, and who do you think it 
 was? You never can guess, so you 
 musn t tell anyone, not even John, and 
 please do burn this letter right away, 
 I was so surprised that I just stood and 
 107
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 stared at him, then when he spoke, his 
 voice sounded so funny, just like a 
 
 squeak he said his name 
 
 was Collins, but I knew right away that 
 
 he was Mr. Thomas his 
 
 mustache was shaved, and he was dressed 
 sort of queer, but he wore the same big 
 gold seal on his watch chain, and a very 
 curious ring that I would know amongst 
 a thousand .... now, remember, 
 Grace, what we promised at school about 
 telling secrets. If you tell John 
 he says he is writing a book, 
 and he wants me to help him, me . 
 I am really curious to see what he is go 
 ing to do next." 
 
 She put her head out of the window and noticed 
 that there was no light coming from the adjoin 
 ing room. Then she slipped a shawl over her head 
 to protect herself from the heavy dew- which on 
 the Islands is almost akin to rain and stole softly 
 down the narrow stairs, and out onto the road. 
 There was no light, save that which shown dimly 
 108
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 from the stars, but she found no difficulty in mak 
 ing her way along the narrow pathway, leading 
 from the cottage to the highway, and thence to 
 the corner store that contained the post office. 
 
 It was very late, after midnight. She realized 
 that fact after she turned her steps homeward. 
 The light of the stars seemed to be unusually dim. 
 A fog was coining up from the sea, which made 
 every well-known object unfamiliar. She glanced 
 hurriedly behind her, imagining that she heard 
 footsteps. She was certain that she saw a figure 
 of a man following her. Her heart beat violently 
 as she quickened her steps, and noted that the man 
 was walking even faster and would soon overtake 
 her. Hilda was brave, but this was an hour and a 
 circumstance when a woman forgets all that she 
 ever knew about bravery. She was frightened as 
 he came closer and touched her arm. Instinctively 
 she gathered up her skirts and was about to fly, 
 when a rough, strong hand closed around her 
 wrist, and the man said: "Hilda my but you re 
 skeery." 
 
 She was fluttering and struggling to free her- 
 109
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 self from his grasp, like a captured wild bird. She 
 wanted to scream. 
 
 "Let me go, Herbert," she gasped, "you fright 
 ened me nearly to death." She spoke crossly, per 
 versely. "Let me go, I say Herbert Kenneth if 
 you don t let me go I ll never speak to you, 
 never." 
 
 His hold loosened slowly, and he felt the soft 
 warm hand slip through his fingers. He was sud 
 denly conscious that she had never used that tone 
 of voice when speaking to him before, never. 
 Then, as quickly, he recalled trifles light as air, 
 little nothings when considered singly, but collect 
 ively becoming apparent, evident. 
 
 "What s the matter with you, anyway?" he said 
 abruptly. 
 
 Intuitively she read his thoughts, and under 
 stood his question. At another time she might 
 have given him an answer that would have sufficed 
 him for sometime to come, but at present she only 
 said : "I was scared, Herbert." Then she per 
 mitted him to again find her hand in the darkness, 
 and to have it for a moment in his own. "Good- 
 110
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 night, Herbert," she said in a low tone they were 
 almost at the cottage "it s awfully late." She 
 moved away, into the mist. 
 
 "Good-night," he muttered, looking after her. 
 
 Ill
 
 IV 
 
 A PERFECT day was closing in a dying glory 
 of gorgeous color. The birds had ceased 
 their chatter, and the busy bees their work. 
 The fisher folk on Orr s Island were sitting on 
 their little porches, or on the steps of their cot 
 tages, enjoying the cool of the evening. 
 
 As Nelson walked slowly up the path which led 
 from the main road to the cottage, he turned 
 around occasionally to see the wonderful colors of 
 the after-glow. And as he viewed the changing 
 tints, from red to yellow, and from yellow to pink 
 and pale greens, and then a blending of them to 
 gether, Hilda s voice came to him from somewhere 
 amongst the trees. 
 
 "A lovely sunset," she said. 
 
 "Magnificent," he replied, as he threw away his 
 cigarette, and approached her. 
 
 "But much more beautiful from the hill Sun- 
 112
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 set Hill, we call it." She was dressed in cool white, 
 with a light knitted scarf about her shoulders a 
 vision of simplicity. She extended her arm, and 
 indicated the direction, "just up the road, not 
 very far." His eyes rested on the round, sun 
 burned arm, and remained there. 
 
 "I could never find it alone, I m sure," he de 
 clared. 
 
 She smiled, lightly. 
 
 "Perhaps Uncle Hagen would go with you," she 
 suggested. 
 
 "I would much prefer you," he asserted, boldly. 
 "Now," he said to himself, "we ll see whether my 
 lady follows suit, or trumps the trick." 
 
 A mischievous light gleamed in her eyes. Ap 
 parently she chose to follow suit. "Oh if you 
 would she said, and together they walked 
 slowly up the road towards Sunset Hill. 
 
 Arriving at the top, the glory of the flaming 
 heavens, now red, now yellow, now purple, now a 
 blending of all the colors, softening, fading slowly, 
 almost imperceptibly, held them in rapt silence 
 and admiration. At their feet was the shimmering 
 113
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 waves reflecting the wondrous glow of the skies. 
 Beyond was the long, low, dark line of an island. 
 Beyond the island, faintly traced against the crim 
 son horizon, were the outlines of a range of mount 
 ains, on the other side of which, he said to him 
 self, must lay the happy valley "wide and fruit 
 ful . . . filled with verdure and fertility, 
 where the banks of the brooks were diversified with 
 flowers ; where every blast shook spices from the 
 rocks, and every month dropped fruits upon the 
 ground . . . where the blessings of nature 
 were collected, and its evils extracted and ex 
 cluded." 
 
 When he read books that pleased him, his mind 
 retained whole paragraphs of the parts which more 
 particularly suited his mood, and when that mood 
 returned to him, so did the thoughts that went 
 with it. 
 
 Half unconsciously he was quoting aloud from 
 Rasselas. 
 
 Hilda stood smiling as Nelson went on with his 
 rhapsody. 
 
 Then she shook her head meditatively. 
 114
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "There is no such place," she sighed. 
 
 "But such as it is," he argued, "one must be 
 happy with such surroundings as these." 
 
 She shook her head again. 
 
 "Locality hasn t much to do with happiness," 
 she remarked ; "it s in the mind." 
 
 He regarded her with some amazement this 
 island maid. His face assumed a quizzical expres 
 sion. "You are quoting from Horace you trav 
 erse the world in search of happiness, which is 
 within the reach of every man; a contented mind 
 confers it on all. He was glad to show his 
 familiarity with the quotation. 
 
 "I have never read Horace," she replied, sim 
 ply, "but I often think that many people could be 
 much happier if they would only try." .... 
 
 They were sitting on an old log, close together. 
 "I want to be happier," he said, as he looked into 
 the depths of her blue eyes. "How shall I try?" 
 
 She returned his gaze fearlessly. 
 
 "Well, things might look better to you if you 
 would not look at them through those ugly spec 
 tacles," she asserted boldly. There was an ex- 
 115
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 pression of amusement in her eyes. A suppressed 
 inclination to laugh. 
 
 "Oh if that s all," he answered, and removed 
 them. "What else?" 
 
 "W-e-1-1, try to be natural, to be yourself." 
 She regarded him with an admixture of mirth and 
 curiosity the curiosity of a woman to sec how far 
 a man will go in his overweening foolishness. 
 While he, good simple man "That s easy," he ad 
 mitted. "I find it more difficult to try to be some 
 other person." He chuckled inwardly. 
 
 "Don t try," she said, tersely. 
 
 Meanwhile the gray of the evening was envelop 
 ing, and mingling with the red of the after-glow, 
 softening and subduing the brilliant colors of the 
 sunset. Hilda sat with one elbow on her knee, her 
 chin resting in the hollow of her hand, gazing at 
 the far distant mountains, now fading into the 
 twilight. 
 
 " The most beautiful eyes, the dearest little 
 dimple, the whitest teeth, the fairest skin, and the 
 most musical voice," said Nelson, silently, as he 
 watched her. 
 
 116
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "By the way," she said, as if the thought had 
 just entered her mind, "do you know a gentleman 
 by the name of Thomas?" 
 
 Nelson opened his mouth, emitted a dry cough 
 ing sound, gasped, and looked intently out to sea. 
 
 "Thomas Thomas." He shook his head, hes 
 itated, and put on his spectacles. "It s not an 
 uncommon name," he remarked, thoughtfully. 
 "What what Thomas ?" 
 
 Her lips curved in a tantalizing smile. Her eyes 
 were watching mirthfully, curiously. 
 
 "Nelson Thomas " she said. 
 
 "Nelson Thomas," he repeated, very slowly. 
 He was engaged in the preliminary known in the 
 vernacular as "sparring for time." His method 
 was not altogether bad, but it lacked originality. 
 
 "He s from New York," she said, "and he owns 
 a yacht called the Phyllis" 
 
 "Oh, the Phyllis" said Nelson. "I have seen the 
 yacht often, in fact. Have you ever seen it?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. I ve been aboard of her, twice. 
 She s the dearest boat 
 
 "Say that again," he interrupted. 
 117
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Say what?" 
 
 "That last word." 
 
 "Oh , you mean bo-it." She repeated the word 
 with the lingering cadence that made him foolish. 
 He moved closer to her ; and as his eyes met hers he 
 was seized with a sudden impulse to put his arm 
 around her, to confess there and then to 
 
 Then the madness passed, and he became sane. 
 
 "I know Nelson Thomas," he assented. 
 
 "Oh you know Mr. Thomas?" said Hilda, with 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 "Like a brother," said Nelson, soberly. "I have 
 known him for many years." 
 
 "Really , Oh, I m so anxious to know more 
 about him. What kind of a man is he?" 
 
 "Peculiar ," said Nelson, shaking his head 
 knowingly. 
 
 "Peculiar ?" she repeated. 
 
 "Gets an idea into his head, and then he for 
 gets everything else." 
 
 "Forgets ?" she asked. 
 
 "Well ignores everything and everybody else 
 until he gets what he wants." 
 118
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Her eye lids veiled the depths of her gaze for an 
 instant. 
 
 "Poor man," she commented, in pity. 
 
 "Why poor man?" he inquired. 
 
 "Oh he s so sure to meet with disappoint 
 ment," she replied. 
 
 Again her chin dropped into the palm of her 
 hand, and her eyes smiled pensively at the fading 
 sunset. 
 
 "Perhaps ," he mused, doubting. 
 
 Above them the stars were appearing dimly in 
 the cloudless sky. The air was warm, and filled 
 with the freshness of a light breeze, that blew 
 faintly from the pines. At their feet was the bay, 
 over which was slowly creeping a light grey mist 
 a thin, transparent mist, through which could 
 be seen the shimmer of the water. 
 
 "Tell me some more about Mr. Thomas," she 
 urged. "Is he married?" 
 
 She said it on the spur of the moment. She 
 would have given much to recall it. What would 
 he think of her hereafter, if 
 
 He bent over her, and tried to look into her 
 119
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 downcast eyes. He was probably wondering if, by 
 any chance, she had penetrated his disguise. 
 
 "No he is not married," he replied, slowly. 
 
 Hilda smiled mockingly. 
 
 "I suppose the idea never came into his head." 
 
 "Why?" he asked, abruptly. 
 
 "Oh because you said that when he got an idea 
 in his head he ignored everything until until he 
 got what he wanted." 
 
 Nelson glanced quickly at the demure eyes of 
 the maiden wide-open, inscrutable, blue eyes. 
 They returned his glance, frankly. 
 
 "She knows nothing," he said to himself. 
 
 "And you said ," Nelson reflected, "that he was 
 sure to be disappointed. With such an ending, he 
 probably thought it useless to entertain such an 
 idea." 
 
 "Absurd ," she laughed. "How could he pos 
 sibly know what I said?" 
 
 "The fact is ," Nelson pondered, "he has had 
 the idea thrown at his head, unceasingly, for some 
 time. He has had what you might call a chance 
 to marry, but he has neglected it." 
 120
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "So ," she mused, "the poor man has been so 
 annoyed by the attentions of of women, that he 
 really can t consider the matter as worthy of 
 pursuit." She laughed. 
 
 "That might apply to the attentions of some 
 women," he corrected, gently smiling, "but he has 
 confessed to me that there is one woman whose in 
 difference is causing him the greatest sorrow of his 
 life." 
 
 "One woman," she repeated. "Dear me I won 
 der what kind of a paragon she must be? * 
 
 She spoke indifferently as a woman will of 
 another. But none the less I am certain that she 
 was consumed with curiosity, for she added, "What 
 kind of a woman is she? Have you ever seen her?" 
 
 "I have seen her," he said, nodding thought 
 fully. "She is very beautiful the loveliest woman 
 on this isl earth. She has masses of fluffy hair 
 that glints and sparkles in the sun like the gold 
 stone. Her eyes are dark very dark blue. Her 
 teeth are white pearly white; and when she 
 smiles her lips curve over them in the most be 
 witching the most tantalizing way. She has a 
 121
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 perfect complexion of such texture that it shows 
 a varied shade of pink to rosy red with her every 
 thought. I am as much in love with her as is 
 Thomas. I see her bewitching personality per 
 meating this whole island by day, and at night I 
 dream of her until morning." 
 
 "Goodness !" exclaimed Hilda. "She must be 
 a wonder." 
 
 She smiled into his eyes, innocently. Was it 
 possible that she did not even guess? 
 
 "Miss Gunther Hilda ," he began, "surely 
 you know He was bending over her. He 
 reached out his arms to embrace her. 
 
 "Oh! Mr. Collins don t please " 
 
 She fluttered for an instant struggling to free 
 herself and was gone. 
 
 122
 
 THE next day Hilda was not visible. Nor the 
 next day. Nor the day after that ; and so 
 Nelson had ample time to think the matter 
 over. And the more that he argued the subject, 
 the more convinced he became in his mind, that he 
 had not succeeded very well in the little plan that 
 had seemed to be so plausible. 
 
 He had added to his somewhat extensive experi 
 ence with women, but somehow he was conscious 
 that the way of this island maid was distinctly dif 
 ferent from the others whom he had met. I am 
 not sure that he had not hastened the denouement 
 in the firm conviction that nothing more was neces 
 sary to win her. 
 
 The first day he had passed in a feverish an 
 ticipation of meeting her at any moment, and he 
 had prepared a series of pleasing arguments that 
 would explain his motives, and all would be well. 
 123
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 The second day he spent in revising his anticipated 
 discourse, touching it up, here and there, with 
 numerous fair-spoken sentences that seemed to be 
 well-nigh irresistible. The third day he forgot all 
 about his imaginary conversation, and he fell into 
 a fit of despondency, the like of which he had never 
 before felt. 
 
 Then he tried his philosophy. 
 
 He walked from one end of tne island to the 
 other. He penetrated the inmost recesses of the 
 pines, and finding a secluded spot, he would lie 
 down on the soft thick moss from where he could 
 see the blue sky, the bluer sea, and the islands ex 
 quisitely sketched on its surface. There was the 
 illimitable ocean peacefully undulating in the light 
 haze of a mid-summer day. There was a little 
 sail boat at his command. He had only to cast 
 off the line that held it bobbing up and down at 
 the old wharf and he could drift or sail from 
 one bay to another, from one island to another, 
 heedlessly, aimlessly the only way to sail. And 
 he had the village, with its corner cross-roads, and 
 funny little stores, where he could buy things for 
 124
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 a few pennies : a lead pencil for one cent ; a writ 
 ing pad for the same amount ; a shaving mirror, in 
 a twisted metal frame, for five cents. He smiled 
 to himself as he made the purchases. Then he 
 went down to the rickety wharf, and sitting down, 
 with his pad and pencil, he swung his legs over a 
 string piece and began to write. 
 
 But for all that he wrote, this student of the 
 masses might as well have been fishing with the 
 two boys, who were busy with lines over the stern 
 of a boat, just beneath him. The grassy walks, 
 and secluded pines ; the blue sea and the islands ; 
 the gently heaving ocean; the village life; the lit 
 tle sail boat. They were nothing more than a 
 frame, from which had been taken the picture 
 of Hilda. 
 
 "Hang The Masses !" he exclaimed. Then 
 he looked down at the boys. "Say, bub " he 
 called. And the quickest one looked up first 
 and jumped to his feet. 
 
 "Want a quarter ?" He held it over the boys 
 heads for a moment, and then let it fall. It missed 
 the four little out stretched hands, hit the side of 
 125
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 the boat, and glancing off, dropped into the 
 water. There was a scramble, a dropping of fish 
 lines, a scuffle in which all the rules of floatage 
 were set at naught, and then two little boys, in 
 scant clothing, were wriggling around under the 
 water like a pair of tadpoles. 
 
 "Je ru salem !" said Nelson, as he regarded 
 the result of his generous offer. 
 
 Then he looked for the boys, anxiously. One 
 had come up spluttering to the surface, and was 
 swimming to sea ! The other was probably 
 under the boat that was floating bottom up. 
 
 There was not a moment to lose. 
 
 He slipped off his coat, hat, and low shoes, and 
 dived after him. 
 
 It was hard work to pull the lad from under the 
 boat, to take him in one arm, and then swim out in 
 the bay after the other boy. 
 
 The latter was a lusty swimmer, but he had lost 
 his head, and was swimming in the wrong direction. 
 
 "Here sonny here !" Nelson called, encour 
 agingly, as he saw the little tow head in front of 
 him. Then he renewed his efforts to overtake him. 
 126
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 It was a short race, between an experienced 
 athlete and a scared boy and the athlete won. 
 The piling was covered with a green 
 ish slime, so that he could not draw himself up. 
 
 He told the boys to hold fast to him, as he be 
 gan to swim towards the shore, but they were 
 dazed and badly frightened, and he was afraid that 
 they would slip from his back, so he turned over 
 and sat the youngsters astride of his chest, where 
 he could see them. 
 
 "Now, hang on, you little duffers," he 
 laughed, soothingly. 
 
 And so, by laughing, and thereby encouraging 
 the boys, they took heart, and hung to the big 
 man, who, with his hands beneath him, was slowly 
 paddling towards land. 
 
 As the tide carried them again towards the 
 wharf a man came running with a boat hook in 
 one hand and a bight of rope in the other. He 
 leaned over the edge of the wharf, and hooked one 
 of the lads off Nelson s chest; then he hooked the 
 other. Then he dropped an end of the rope to 
 Nelson, and quickly hauled him onto the wharf. 
 127
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Well done, mate,"- he said, approvingly 
 "but for you, these little fellers would have 
 drowned." He held the boys, by the nape of their 
 necks, one at the end of each arm, where they 
 hung dripping and shaking like two puppies. 
 Then the man took a second admiring glance at 
 the life-saver as he turned around, shoeless, hat- 
 less, coatless coughing up the salt water. 
 
 "But for me they wouldn t have up upset 
 Nelson drawled, good-naturedly. Then he re 
 turned the astonished gaze of his host Captain 
 Gunther. 
 
 The boys shook themselves, adjusted their 
 scanty blue shirts and jumpers and looked 
 around expectantly. Nelson laughed. 
 
 "You want the money ?" he suggested. 
 
 "I spoke first said the alert one, quickly. 
 He was a bright, sharp featured lad, with snap 
 ping blue eyes, and an oldish kind of a face. The 
 other had wide, wondering brown eyes, a waver 
 ing mouth, and curling hair. He hung back, ap 
 parently willing to take what was left. 
 
 "I spoke second " he said, hesitatingly. 
 128
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Have you ever noticed said Nelson, with 
 the same nonchalance to his condition and sur 
 roundings, as though he stood on the deck of the 
 Phyllis, "how often there is one in a family 
 who always speaks first; is ever brisk, lively, nim 
 ble to catch the falling fruit?" 
 
 "So there is answered the captain, as he 
 finished coiling the rope. 
 
 "I have often wondered," Nelson went on, de 
 liberately, "when they advanced in life, whether 
 they really obtained more happiness than the 
 others. I never could step lively, captain 
 never." 
 
 Then he turned to the boys. 
 
 "So you did, sonny," he said, judicially as he 
 noted the wistful eyes of the other. "Run along, 
 and get my clothes on the end of the wharf my 
 purse is in my coat pocket." 
 
 Then he slipped a hand into the clammy re 
 cesses of his wet, clinging trousers, and fished out 
 a coin the largest in the collection. 
 
 "Here, bub take this and skip run va 
 mose," he admonished the wistful-eyed one, as he 
 129
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 pointed up the hill. The boy started, and turned 
 back twisting the coin round and round in his 
 hand. 
 
 "Please, mister " he asked, "is this mine to 
 keep?" 
 
 "Sure " Nelson nodded affirmatively. 
 
 "Thanks, mister The boy put the coin in 
 his pocket. Then he might have walked straight 
 home, handed the money to his mother, and said : 
 "Here, mother, is fifty cents that a kind-hearted 
 gentleman gave me for saving my life. Give it to 
 the good, kind minister, to send to the poor little 
 boys in Africa." 
 
 He might have done that, but he did not. He 
 went to a store the farthest away from his home 
 and bought the jack-knife that his soul had 
 craved, ever since he had been able to see it, in the 
 showcase on top of the counter. Then he bought 
 a bag of peanuts, a sour ball warranted to last 
 for half an hour, and a mouth organ. He spent 
 the rest of the afternoon on the sunny side of a 
 rock drying his clothes filled with supreme 
 
 happiness 
 
 130
 
 VI 
 
 THEY walked back to the cottage where Nelson 
 procured dry clothing. 
 
 When he reappeared downstairs, the cap 
 tain took an observation, which included the cardi 
 nal points of the compass. Then he lowered his 
 voice to barely a whisper. "A little drop of the 
 real thing would keep you from catching cold 
 after that ducking?" he suggested. 
 
 "Sure " Nelson agreed promptly, "but where 
 on this benighted coast of Maine is one to pro 
 cure it?" 
 
 Captain Gunther grew even more mysterious. 
 "Follow me " he said, with the air of a pirate 
 king. He tiptoed into the cottage, with Nelson 
 following close on his heels. "Lucky thing " he 
 whispered, "Hilda ain t here." 
 
 "She would object?" inquired Nelson. His 
 heart thumped furiously at her name. His eyes 
 131
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 
 roved over the little kitchen, with its strip of clean 
 
 rag carpet on the floor, and the spotless dimity 
 curtains in the windows. He felt a sense of irrita 
 tion as the old man opened the cupboard doors 
 and exposed to view the rows of common blue 
 china shining in their cleanliness carefully ar 
 ranged on scolloped, clean white paper. The shin 
 ing black cooking stove, with the neatly arranged 
 utensils ; the little table, with its bright red cover ; 
 the low splint rocking chair, beside an open win 
 dow above the sill of which a cluster of sweet 
 peas nodded and swayed gently in the light sum 
 mer air Hilda s. 
 
 "Oh I don t know as she would just object," 
 said the captain as he reached to an upper self for 
 two little tumblers. He handed one to Nelson, and 
 then selected a small pitcher from the little stock of 
 blue china. 
 
 "You see it s this way with her " he explained. 
 "Etzel that s her father you know, never could 
 touch it without getting foolish and just 
 natur ly she s afraid of it." 
 
 "Afraid of what?" asked Nelson. 
 132
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Whiskey," replied the captain, with abated 
 breath, as he took out his keys and unlocked a 
 closet in the chimney. 
 
 He fumbled around and drew forth a curious 
 looking, narrow-necked bottle. It was covered 
 with odd looking characters grinning faces of 
 uncouth monsters. A queer looking bottle. It was 
 brown-colored, flat, and emitted an odor when 
 the cork was removed the like of which Nelson had 
 never smellcd before. 
 
 "Came from New York," said the captain as he 
 slowly filled the two little tumblers, replaced the 
 cork, and then hid the bottle carefully away in the 
 locker. 
 
 "Now for a chaser," he said jocosely, as he 
 started towards the well. I am not certain whether 
 he winked at Nelson, but his manner was that of 
 an old toper, a convivial old fellow who loved his 
 daily dram above everything on earth. Whereas 
 Uncle Hagen was the most temperate man a man 
 who had the best reputation on the island for 
 sobriety. 
 
 He lowered the sweep, and drew up a bucket of 
 . 133
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 fresh water. Then he filled the pitcher, and started 
 back again to the cottage. Nelson followed the old 
 man who walked stealthily ahead, alert and cau 
 tious as an Indian. 
 
 "Now we can talk he said as he put the 
 pitcher down on the kitchen table, and drew up a 
 chair, "there ain t nobody around." 
 
 "Your health " Nelson sipped prudently from 
 his small tumbler. 
 
 "Same to you Uncle Hagen swallowed the 
 contents of his tumbler at a gulp, and reached for 
 the pitcher. The "chaser" of cold water followed 
 the whiskey with a velocity and volume which must 
 have quenched the fiery stuff instanter. 
 
 "Feels good don t it?" said the captain ap 
 provingly, and then opening and closing his mouth 
 with a loud resounding smack. 
 
 "Feels warm " said Nelson doubtfully. 
 
 "Pity some folks can t take it without going too 
 far now there was Etzel, Hilda s father." The 
 old man stretched out his legs and dropping his 
 chin to his chest, he reached an arm across the 
 table, and balanced the empty tumbler in the palm 
 134
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 of his large, powerful hand. "Etzel never could 
 touch a drop without going crazy." 
 
 He gazed out of the open window, his blue eyes 
 fixed in a dreamy stare from under his shaggy 
 brows. "Etzel was younger than me about ten 
 years." 
 
 "He was a sailor?" asked Nelson. 
 
 "Best in the town of Harpswell wasn t a man 
 could touch him wasn t anything could beat him 
 cepting this." 
 
 He held the tumbler upside down. A few drops 
 of whiskey fell on the red tablecloth, making dark 
 splotches on its surface. He heaved a deep sigh, 
 and was silent. 
 
 "I heard that he died was drowned," said 
 Nelson softly. 
 
 Uncle Hagen drew in his legs, bent over and 
 looked into Nelson s eyes. 
 
 "He drowned himself and his wife." 
 
 "Committed sui " Nelson turned quickly. 
 
 The captain s hand went up warningly. 
 
 "Not a bit of it," he exclaimed. "No suiciding 
 in our family they re too fond of living. He just 
 135
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 run his boat up on the rocks, over on the back 
 shore, and He paused, and passed his hand 
 over his forehead in a weary sort of way. Nelson 
 saw lines in his face that had hitherto escaped him. 
 
 "Missed the channel?" suggested Nelson. The 
 captain nodded. "Out of his course a hundred 
 yards a course he could of run with his eyes shut, 
 day or night. Most any boy in the village could. 
 But Etzel well Etzel wasn t himself that day." 
 
 He buried his head deep in the hollow of his two 
 large hands. Then an idea seemed to strike him, 
 for he suddenly arose, and walked to the chimney 
 closet, when he returned, carrying the curious 
 looking bottle with him. In a moment he had 
 emptied its contents through the open window. 
 
 "By the jumping hornspoon " he vowed with 
 much solemnity, as he held the bottle upside down, 
 high over his head, "if I ever touch a drop of the 
 rotten stuff again may I be drowned too." 
 
 Then he carefully corked the empty bottle and 
 put it on one of the shelves in the cupboard. There 
 is not much that goes to waste on Orr s Island. 
 
 136
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 And all the time Nelson was asking himself the 
 tormenting question what has become of Hilda? 
 He could easily have asked Uncle Hagen, but some 
 how the opportunity that he wanted never came. 
 A guilty consciousness that perhaps the old man 
 was familiar with the occurrence at Sunset Hill, 
 and that Hilda may have confided in him or inti 
 mated, or something. He could not bring him 
 self to the point of a direct inquiry. So he was 
 startled when the captain began "Hilda never 
 knew the whole truth- about her father. Soon as 
 she was old enough I sent her away to a big board 
 ing school Hilda has a fine education," he added 
 proudly. 
 
 A little wooden-cased clock, on a shelf between 
 the windows, went tick-tack-tick-tack. There was 
 no other sound. 
 
 Uncle Hagen slowly filled his pipe from a little 
 tin box of cut plug. Then he broke off a sulphur 
 match from a block, and lit it with a sweep across 
 the leg of his trousers. "That s where she met 
 Grace " he mumbled, between puffs. "In Port 
 land." 
 
 137
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Grace?" Nelson looked interested. 
 
 "Um Grace Donald. Where she s visiting." 
 
 "Visiting?" Nelson s interest increased. 
 
 "Um she married John Donald works in the 
 bank," he said it half impatiently as if he con 
 sidered the matter of too little importance to need 
 any further explanation. 
 
 138
 
 VII 
 
 NELSON arose early very early, and gazed out 
 into the orchard. 
 
 The sun was just appearing in a prelimi 
 nary blaze of golden yellow, the air was delightful, 
 and keen with the salt smell of the sea. The trees 
 were filled with chirping birds, happy, lively in 
 tensely alive with the joy of the morning. 
 
 But what a difference what a difference ! 
 Hilda gone without a word, without a message. 
 
 He heard the captain moving around below, get 
 ting his breakfast. 
 
 "She ought to be at home, taking care of that 
 poor old man," he muttered. "The least she could 
 do, to pay him back for all his care of her. Un 
 grateful, that s what it is." 
 
 The penetrating smell of burning pine wood, 
 mingled with the aroma of boiling coffee, floated 
 upward from the kitchen. 
 139
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Visiting her friend in Portland. What do you 
 think of that?" He spoke with a rising inflection, 
 bitterly. He glanced around the room, at the 
 scanty furniture, the grotesque pattern of cheap 
 wallpaper, at the lurid picture of "A Storm at 
 Sea," at the pile of manuscript on his writing table. 
 He picked up the sheets, one after the other, and 
 read them carelessly. 
 
 " The Masses be" 
 
 There was a loud thump on his door, then 
 another. It sounded as though the door had been 
 struck by a club. Nelson strode across the room 
 and opened it wide. He was angry, irritable. 
 
 Captain Gunther, rosy-cheeked, genial, beaming 
 with good nature, stood in the narrow hall. 
 
 "Heard you moving," he smiled, "and thought 
 you might like a bite of breakfast?" He noticed 
 Nelson s angry frown, and his manner became 
 apologetic. 
 
 "Perhaps I m too early for you ?" he added. 
 
 Nelson s brow cleared at the sight of the kindly 
 blue eyes. "Not a bit not a bit," he answered 
 cordially. "I ll be down in five minutes." 
 140
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 In less than that time he had torn the manuscript 
 into small pieces, and had thrown them into the 
 vari-colored paper basket. "Somehow I seem to 
 be all wrong about the masses," he mused, thought 
 fully. 
 
 Then he went down to breakfast. 
 
 Uncle Hagen with his coat off, his face fiery 
 red, was fussing over the stove. 
 
 "I have the coffee all right," he nodded as 
 Nelson entered the kitchen. "And the corn bread 
 is in the oven, but I m just a little particular about 
 the fish fresh mackerel. Ain t been out the water 
 half an hour kind of tender." He held the pan 
 up over the glowing coals, with one hand and 
 moved a little can of boiling water with the other. 
 "If you ll hand me those eggs," he said, pointing 
 to a bowl on the table. Nelson dipped, obediently, 
 into the bowl and handed the captain two eggs. 
 There was something very cosy very appetizing 
 about the clean coarse cloth on the table, the nod 
 ding sweet peas at the window, the warmth and 
 cheerfulness of the little kitchen. 
 
 "Just a mite of bacon," murmured the captain 
 141
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 as he put two thin slices in the pan. "Now then 
 its ready such as it is." He placed a chair for 
 Nelson at one side of the table. 
 
 "Simply delicious," said Nelson, approvingly, as 
 he sat down to breakfast 
 
 "I ll be leaving to-day," he informed the cap 
 tain, shamefacedly. 
 
 "So " Uncle Hagen held his fork poised over 
 a tempting piece of the fresh mackerel. "Things 
 don t suit?" 
 
 There was surprise, and a shade of vexation in 
 his voice. 
 
 "Everything suits, captain everything," he 
 assured him, "but I must get back to work." 
 Nelson assumed the harrassed look of a business 
 man whose vacation days are numbered. 
 
 Uncle Hagen looked at him over his cup of 
 coffee. "Writing books?" he suggested. 
 
 "Yes, and other things." 
 
 "Hilda will be disappointed," said the old man, 
 slowly. "When did you calculate to start?" 
 
 "When does the next boat leave?" asked Nelson. 
 
 "I was thinking," said Uncle Hagen, ignoring 
 142
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 the question, "that maybe you d like to go along 
 in the boat my boat. I m going up to Portland 
 this morning with a mess of lobsters." 
 
 "Indeed I should " replied Nelson promptly. 
 A radiant glimmer of hope overspread his face. "I 
 should like nothing better." Uncle Hagen arose 
 and began to clear the table. "We might call and 
 see Hilda at Grace s, and you could say good 
 bye," he added innocently. 
 
 "Yes I could say good-bye," repeated Nelson 
 dubiously. "When are you going?" 
 
 "Soon as I stow away these things, and clean up 
 the galley, bout half an hour." 
 
 Outside, the yellow of the sunrise had turned to 
 crimson, and then the sun had appeared above the 
 pines, in all the splendor of an August day. 
 
 Nelson expanded his lungs with deep inhalations 
 of the delicious air. He whistled in answer to the 
 chirping birds. He hummed snatches of songs, as 
 he moved blithely around his room, packing his 
 bag. His heart was joyous, harmonious. 
 
 After all the weary waiting and suspense; after 
 all the inaction, the anxious surmises and imagin- 
 143
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 ings of the past long hours and days, there had 
 come to him a certainty, he was going to see 
 Hilda. That was enough happiness for the pres 
 ent. Further than that he gave the matter but 
 little thought. His spirit was tranquil, tuneful. 
 
 The captain called up the stairs : 
 
 "You can come whenever you are ready. Lock 
 the door and put the key under the step." 
 
 Then he shouldered a pair of oars, and started 
 down the "shore privilege" path which led to the 
 cove 
 
 Nelson locked the front door, put the key under 
 a corner of the stone step, and followed the captain 
 down the path. At a bend in the lane, that hid 
 Uncle Hagen from sight, he turned around to take 
 a last view of the cottage. It s clean white front 
 shone clear and distinct, embowered in the sur 
 rounding vivid greens. 
 
 If a little house could look wistfully after him, 
 that little house was full of thought. 
 
 "I know I know," he said, as he waved his hand 
 in farewell. "It was no fault of yours, good-bye 
 good-bye." 
 
 144
 
 VIII 
 
 4 4 .A S near as I can remember," said Uncle Hagen 
 
 / \. doubtfully, as he and Nelson wandered 
 
 along one of the streets of Portland, "the 
 
 house lays north-northwest, about half an hour s 
 
 run from the landing." He peered up one side of the 
 
 street and then the other. "It s kind of clipper 
 
 built, with a bridge for ard and a quarter deck aft 
 
 the cabin s painted white with green blinds." 
 
 "There it is," said Nelson, almost as soon as he 
 had heard the graphic description. He pointed 
 across the street to a neat-looking, modern house, 
 that had a porch in front, and a second story 
 piazza in the rear. It was of frame construction, 
 painted white, with green shutters. 
 
 "So it is," assented the captain, slowly. 
 "Blamed if we didn t nearly run it down." 
 
 They crossed the street, and Uncle Hagen was 
 about to pound on the door with one of his sledge 
 145
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 hammer blows, when Nelson caught his arm. 
 "Hold up, captain, here s the button." He 
 pressed it with his thumb and a tidy looking maid 
 appeared. 
 
 "Good morning," said Uncle Hagen, with cor 
 dial-hearted effusiveness, "we called to see the 
 ladies." 
 
 The well-trained little domestic looked at the 
 men suspiciously. 
 
 "The ladies are not at home," she said 
 brusquely. She was about to shut the door. 
 "Pardon," said Nelson quietly, "this gentleman 
 wishes to see his niece, Miss Gunther, when will she 
 return ?" 
 
 There was something about his manner, his poise 
 and gentle assurance, that caused her to suddenly 
 change her conclusions. 
 
 Here was no book agent. 
 
 "The ladies have gone to New York," she an 
 swered politely. 
 
 "New York," they repeated in chorus. 
 
 "Did she leave any word for me Hilda," in 
 quired the captain, anxiously. 
 146
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "For her uncle Miss Gunther s uncle Cap 
 tain Hagen Gunther?" explained Nelson. 
 
 "Of Orr s Island? oh yes," her face bright 
 ened. She stepped back into the hall and took a 
 letter from the table. "I was just going to take 
 it to the box." 
 
 It was from Hilda. 
 
 The captain took the letter, turned it over and 
 over several times, and began a fruitless fumble for 
 his spectacles. 
 
 Nelson waited impatiently. 
 
 "I know I haven t them, because I never carry 
 them away from home," he remarked finally. Then 
 he put the letter carefully away in an inner pocket, 
 and turned back, down the front steps. 
 
 Nelson followed him. 
 
 "Good morning" said the captain to the maid, 
 as he removed his cap and made a sweeping bow, 
 "my respects to Mr. Donald." Nelson was all 
 agog with suppressed expectation. "Perhaps I 
 could read it for you," he suggested. 
 
 "Perhaps you could answered the captain. 
 "Let s get some place." 
 
 147
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 They walked down to the hotel, and in a quiet 
 corner of the lobby Nelson read: 
 Dear Uncle Hagen: 
 
 There is not much to write about, or 
 I would have written you before this. I 
 never knew Portland could be so dull. 
 Grace is awfully nice, but every place 
 seems so hot and stuffy it makes me feel 
 irritable and disagreeable all the time. 
 John says we need a change, so he got 
 excursion tickets on the boat to New 
 York for Grace and me. We leave this 
 evening. I don t know when we will re 
 turn. 
 
 Good-bye. 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 "Poor little girl," said the captain. "She isn t 
 feeling well I can tell that right away." 
 
 Nelson handed him the letter, and stared gloom 
 ily through the window. 
 
 "Rather risky he remarked, calamitously 
 "I should say, for those two girls to go travelling 
 all alone." 
 
 148
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Risky ? Oh not very. The Morning Star is 
 an able boat," answered the captain, cheerfully. 
 "It isn t like railroads, you know, where everything 
 is running on the same course sure to foul some 
 thing. Now with the boat it s different. Her 
 course lays pretty well out to sea, where she has 
 plenty of room clear of most everything 
 cepting when she gets into the Sound," he added 
 thoughtfully. "It is kind of crowded in Long 
 Island Sound, that s a fact." 
 
 "I wasn t thinking of that," said Nelson, still 
 lowering ; "it s the risk 
 
 "What risk?" interrupted Uncle Hagen, with 
 marked anxiety. 
 
 "Those two girls, all alone in in New York," 
 Nelson surmised. 
 
 A light broke in on the captain. He laughed 
 reassuringly. 
 
 "Don t worry about that pair, Hilda can take 
 care of herself anywhere so can Grace. We folks 
 learn to care for ourselves at an early age we 
 have to we can t afford otherwise." He un 
 crossed lu s legs, and arose from his chair. He ex- 
 149
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 tended a hand to Nelson. "Come back when you 
 can always glad to see you," he added cordially. 
 
 Nelson retained the strong, honest hand in a firm 
 grip. The ties were loosening that had held him 
 to the islands. He was loath to see old man Gun- 
 ther depart. He had formed a genuine friendship 
 for the captain a friendship that had its origin 
 and being in the admiration he had for his invin 
 cible honesty his gentle unselfishness his cour 
 age. Apart from that, he was Hilda s uncle and 
 only remaining relative. He shook his hand 
 warmly, affectionately. "Drop me a line, captain, 
 if you get up that race, I might want to enter a 
 boat." 
 
 "Would you now sure I will where shall I 
 write you ?" his eyes glistened. 
 
 First of all, and before everything, the captain 
 loved a boat race. 
 
 Nelson tore a leaf from his note book and wrote : 
 "William Collins, The Luxmore, New York." 
 
 Uncle Hagen stuffed the bit of paper in his vest 
 pocket. 
 
 "I ll let you know good-bye." 
 150
 
 IX 
 
 aT the same hour it may have been at the same 
 moment when Nelson was bidding Uncle 
 Hagen good-bye Hilda and her friend 
 Grace were comfortably seated on the upper deck 
 of the Morning Star, en route for New York. The 
 skies were clear, the wind astern, and the gentle 
 swell of the ocean only contributed to a delightful 
 sense of undulation restless, disquieting to some 
 enjoyable to those who love the sea. As the 
 steamer clove her way steadily through the light 
 waves her prow cut great furrows in the blue 
 water, that rose and fell in curving, splashing 
 beauty. 
 
 "Well, Hilda, as I said before, the man is in love 
 with you dead in love. Now what are you going 
 to do about it?" demanded Grace Donald. 
 "How do you know?" asked Hilda. 
 "How do I know !" repeated Grace, with some 
 151
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 little show of impatience. Remember that Grace 
 and her friend Hilda had spent most of the night 
 talking it over, in the close intimacy of their state 
 room. "Don t be so foolish, Hilda." 
 
 Hilda looked offended. 
 
 "What can I do?" she said. 
 
 "Do !" Young Mrs. Donald sat up straight in 
 her deck chair, compressed her lips full red lips 
 and gazed sternly out to sea. Her countenance 
 was severe, steadfast. 
 
 Hilda dropped her chin into her hands, her 
 elbows on her knees, and stared into the horizon. 
 She was evidently perturbed, disquieted. 
 
 "Grace, you don t know everything," she said, 
 in a feeble, troubled voice. 
 
 "No not everything. Only the things that 
 you told me," returned Grace. "But if you want 
 to lose the chance of your lifetime. A chance !" 
 Mrs. Grace Donald s pretty mouth seemed to frame 
 a comprehensive whistle. "Well just keep run 
 ning away from him every chance that you get 
 and Again she compressed her lips, and gazed 
 out to sea. 
 
 152
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "You are angry," Hilda murmured, plaintively. 
 
 "Angry? No, but when a man like that asks 
 you to marry him 
 
 "He didn t ask me " interrupted Hilda. 
 
 "Oh well, if he didn t exactly ask you, he will, 
 all the same if you give him another chance," 
 continued Grace. 
 
 "Absurd," said Hilda, positively. "You really 
 are wrong. Mr. Thomas and I are mere friends, 
 why I have known him only a few weeks." 
 
 "Really " scoffed Grace. "But a mere friend 
 of the other sex, who makes love to you the moment 
 he sees you, and who follows you to your home, 
 insinuates himself into the family, takes long walks 
 with you, assumes a disguise that is intended to 
 deceive everyone but you; a friend who puts his 
 arm around you, and kiss 
 
 "He did not !" interrupted Hilda, indignantly, 
 her face flushing. 
 
 "Oh well. He tried to what s the differ 
 ence ?",asked the wise young matron. 
 
 "The difference is between the act and the in 
 tention," laughed Hilda. 
 153
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Sure he showed his intentions, right along. 
 That s what I ve been saying," agreed Mrs. 
 Donald. 
 
 Hilda resolved. 
 
 "I did not tell you everything, Grace," she said ; 
 "but I happen to know that Mr. Thomas is in love 
 with another woman really. . . . He told 
 me that he had had a chance to marry but 
 She looked down to the deck, avoiding her com 
 panion s curious stare. 
 
 "Did he, indeed? and what else did he say 
 about marriage." Grace assumed an attitude of 
 receptive interest. "For a mere friend he certainly 
 was very very confiding." 
 
 "He said that he had neglected the chance." 
 
 Hilda spoke ingenuously. 
 
 Grace laughed a hearty, good-natured laugh, 
 full of merriment. "So and why did he neglect 
 it?" she asked. 
 
 Hilda changed her position, and moved closer 
 to her friend. Her face was a study of fugitive 
 lights and shades, as they passed, and repassed 
 across her expressive countenance. 
 
 154
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Oh you old quiz " Hilda remonstrated. 
 
 "He said he was in love with another woman," 
 she added. 
 
 "Did he happen to mention her name?" enquired 
 Grace. 
 
 Hilda shook her head. "He did not tell me her 
 name. But he said that she was very beautiful 
 with light hair and blue eyes, and oh, yes he 
 said that she had white teeth." 
 
 "Wonderful commented Grace. "What a 
 sight she would be with black teeth ?" 
 
 Hilda s lips curved into a faint little moue it 
 was hardly a pout. 
 
 "I won t tell you any more," she affirmed. 
 
 "Oh yes, please go on. She had light hair, 
 blue eyes, white teeth, and when she pouts her 
 lips curve over them in the most charming manner. 
 She has a lovely complexion, that is getting red 
 der and redder every moment and she lives with 
 the dearest old uncle, on Orr s Island. Gracious ! 
 What is the matter?" 
 
 "Goodness !" exclaimed Hilda. Evidently a 
 sudden, embarrassing thought had entered her 
 155
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 mind. She stared intently out to sea, her hands 
 clasped tightly, her head bent forward her mind 
 recalling every word, every action of that evening 
 on Sunset Hill. 
 
 "What is it Hilda?" enquired her friend anx 
 iously. 
 
 Hilda laughed unmusically. 
 
 "Oh -I hope not " she said ; "and yet it does 
 seem to be me that is that he meant me. Oh 
 Grace, do you really think that he was describing 
 me?" 
 
 "You ! No indeed. The idea," she said iron 
 ically. "I don t think that he gave you a thought." 
 
 "You don t understand, Grace," she went on. 
 
 "I mean, do you think that he thought, that I 
 thought " 
 
 "WheAV !" Grace pursed her mouth into a mock 
 ing whistle. "Now then which thought was it?" 
 
 Hilda stamped her foot impatiently on the deck. 
 "Grace Donald do you suppose that he knew 
 that I knew " 
 
 She stopped, and blushed furiously. 
 
 "Silly. Why of course he did." 
 156
 
 PART THIRD
 
 NELSON THOMAS was thinking but that s 
 another story. His mind did not dwell long 
 on the subject, but went back, and over and 
 over again to the one thing of all others that could 
 interest him. 
 
 One would think that he had satisfied himself 
 that his pursuit of Hilda was futile, his efforts una 
 vailing. She had fled from him without a word; 
 she had not even mentioned his name in her letter 
 to Uncle Hagen ; she had gone on an aimless excur 
 sion to New York, without a moment s thought of 
 the abject loneliness that she ought to have known 
 would be his portion. 
 
 He paced up and down the office of the hotel; 
 he sat down to read the papers ; he wrote several 
 letters, one long one to Hilda and tore them up, 
 one by one as they were finished. He telegraphed 
 to his aunt that he would join them at Bar Harbor, 
 159
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 and withdrew the message while the patient opera 
 tor was checking up the number of words that it 
 contained. He smoked cigarettes, cigars and his 
 pipe, until his tongue became blistered and his head 
 dizzy. Try as he would there was nothing that 
 he could do, nothing worth while doing he was 
 hot, feverish, impatient. "By George !" he thun 
 dered to his inner consciousness, "I must see her 
 again I must- I shall." 
 
 And then having made up his mind he went 
 over carefully, all the connecting links, from Uncle 
 Hagen to Hilda; from Hilda to Mrs. Donald; 
 from Mrs. Donald to her husband John ! 
 John Donald. Of course. He remembered when 
 the captain had told him that Grace s husband 
 worked in the bank. He remembered that a Mr. 
 Donald was the paying teller in his own bank of 
 deposit in Portland. He would go down town at 
 once, and draw some money. Incidentally he would 
 make John s acquaintance. It was a reasonable 
 conclusion that John would know his wife s address 
 in New York. That was pure logic. 
 
 So he called on John Donald 
 
 1GO
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Several hours later he was seated in the smoking 
 compartment of the New York sleeper. As he lit 
 his cigar his eyes roved carelessly through the 
 veil of smoke at his fellow passengers. He saw 
 first of all a conspicuous pair of yellow shoes, then 
 a brown suit, then a drooping mustache, then the 
 weary face of Charlie Lighthall. 
 
 "By Jove, Nelson " was his amiable greeting 
 as he crossed over and sat down beside him. . . . 
 
 "And the ladies?" enquired Nelson. 
 
 "They are in the car ahead going to New 
 York, for some shopping. Then it s a party at 
 your aunt s place in the country." 
 
 "Um Nelson smoked steadily. 
 
 "They were wondering what had become of 
 you?" 
 
 "Um He went on smoking. 
 
 As the night advanced the other occupants of 
 the compartment retired to their berths. Light- 
 hall selected a large brown cigar, encased in a 
 bright red band, and became confidential. 
 
 "I m awfully glad, that we happened to meet ," 
 he began, with marked hesitancy. 
 161
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Nelson eyed him suspiciously. 
 
 "How much is it, Charlie?" he asked cheerfully. 
 "I know my aunt is a perfect terror in bridge I 
 should have warned you." He reached for his 
 pocket cheque book. Lighthall laughed. "It s 
 not so bad as that." He shifted uneasily on the 
 leather cushions. "It s about about Miss Con 
 rad." 
 
 "Oh Nelson stretched out his legs, and 
 yawned comfortably. "What s she been up to?" 
 
 "She I that is we are engaged," announced 
 Lighthall solemnly. 
 
 "W-h a t?" exclaimed Nelson, with a rising, 
 and increasing tone of voice. He suddenly sat up 
 straight, and stared at his companion. "You don t 
 mean it?" 
 
 "Fact ," said Lighthall, nodding his head. 
 
 "We fixed it up on the Phyllis." 
 
 "Well! Of all the supernal luck." 
 
 He felt like shouting his approval. 
 
 "Yes I was rather lucky," drawled Lighthall 
 complacently." 
 
 162
 
 II 
 
 IN an apartment house, in New York on West 
 End Avenue, above One Hundred and Fif 
 teenth Street, there is a cozy little suite of 
 rooms occupied by Mrs. Henry Wyse and her son 
 Edward. Mrs. Wyse is of medium stature, and 
 stands as erect as she did when she was eighteen 
 years old. She has a perfectly proportioned 
 plump little figure, clear regular features, snap 
 ping, and twinkling brown eyes, and lovely gray 
 hair brushed back from her forehead a la Madam 
 la Marchioness de Pompadour. When Mrs. Wyse 
 smiles, which is practically all the time and don t 
 misunderstand me by imagining her as wearing one 
 of those irritating and false set of mirthful 
 wrinkles her eyes beam with a healthy good 
 nature, her lips part with a half uttered blessing, 
 and her whole countenance radiates such a glow of 
 honest living, that one leaves her presence the bet 
 ter for having seen her. 
 
 163
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 The suite contained a dining room, a sitting 
 room, two bed rooms, and a kitchen. There is 
 another alleged bed room, near the kitchen but 
 the assertion is only one of the optimistic fictions of 
 Mrs. Wyse, when she has visitors. This closet is 
 called the spare room, and is always occupied by 
 Mrs. Wyse herself, when by chance her visitors 
 should remain with her over a night. 
 
 The principal furnishings of the rooms consist 
 of several old pieces of such undoubted respectabil 
 ity, brought from her old home, in Philadelphia, 
 that one can easily surmise the environments in 
 which Mrs. Wyse spent her childhood. 
 
 These old bits of furniture are arranged in the 
 narrow spaces of the apartments with such consum 
 mate, artistic effect, that the circumscribed limita 
 tions of the walls are lost. One sinks into the near 
 est, comfortable chair out of the cosmopolitan 
 hurly-burly with a sigh of restful content. In 
 these rooms are no repinings, no regrets for what 
 might have been, no longing for what has been ; 
 on the contrary the mistress of this miniature home 
 faces her daily life with a keen enjoyment of the 
 164
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 present, and a delightful anticipation of the 
 future. Sufficient happiness, to her, that her son 
 Edward her first born is now adding a modicum 
 each month, to the slender purse that assisted him 
 through the Columbia Law School. 
 
 Mrs. Wyse is embroidering. The heavily shaded 
 lamp on the centre table sheds a light upon her 
 white hands, and shining needle, as she deftly fol 
 lows the intricacies of the pattern. The rest of the 
 room is shrouded in a cool subdued light that 
 permits the windows to be open, and to admit a 
 light breeze from the river. 
 
 The fugitive zephyr gently stirs the thin cur 
 tains that frame a picture of the dining room. 
 The table is set for dinner, and the candles in old 
 glass candle-sticks of unquestioned antiquity shed 
 a soft light from their shaded yellow flames. The 
 little maid in the kitchen, who comes each morn 
 ing and departs in the evening, is putting the 
 final touches to the concomitants of a well cooked 
 meal, when a bell rings in the narrow hall. 
 
 In a moment Mrs. Wyse has opened the door. 
 In another moment she is struggling in the united 
 165
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 and then alternating embraces of her daughter, 
 Grace Donald, and of her school friend, Hilda 
 Gunther 
 
 The dialogue that immediately followed the en 
 trance of the two girls is beyond my powers of re 
 cording because they all spoke at once. To dif 
 ferentiate between the three would be impossible. 
 The entrance of Edward only added to the univer 
 sal buzzing, and it was only after his departure, in 
 the evening, that some coherent idea could be had 
 of the conversation that ensued. 
 
 Mrs. Wyse, sitting on the sofa, with her daugh 
 ter Grace on one side of her, and Hilda on the 
 other heard the whole story. 
 
 "Nelson Thomas?" she said reflectively. "Ah 
 I have it " 
 
 Then she began : 
 
 "He must be the son of Nelson Thomas, of the 
 old dry goods firm of Thomas & Conrad. They 
 were wholesale merchants, on Market Street, Phila 
 delphia, from as far back as I can remember. He 
 made a fortune, and retired. Then he moved to 
 New York so that his wife might have a larger 
 
 166
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 field for her social ambitions. She was a Miss Col 
 lins, and your new friend," she said, turning to 
 Hilda, "took the name of his grandfather, on his 
 mother s side, when he changed his name to Wil 
 liam Collins, of Philadelphia. There were two 
 brothers by the name of Thomas in the firm. The 
 aunt you speak of must be the widow of his father s 
 brother. And Miss Conrad is probably the daugh 
 ter of the other partner. There ," she laughed, 
 "I ve told you all that I know about them." 
 
 167
 
 Ill 
 
 following morning a party of four sat 
 1 down to breakfast in a fashionable cafe on 
 Fifth Avenue. They had endured all the 
 discomforts of a hot night on a sleeping car; the 
 hour was unusually early, the waiters were tired 
 and listless, and the smell of mops, soap, and cigar 
 ette smoke permeated the air. Outside, the dust 
 hung in suspension between the glaring walls of 
 the houses, like a thin veil through which the red 
 sun shone warm and sullen. Three members of the 
 party made scarcely an effort to hide the evident 
 fact that a discordant note interrupted the har 
 mony of their conversation. 
 
 Strange to say, the jarring impression was pro 
 duced by the contrariety of qualities whereby the 
 happiness of one irritated the others. 
 
 Nelson Thomas was in a mood so jubilant, so 
 hilarious, that it vexed his aunt almost beyond en- 
 168
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 durance. "You seem to be very in fact unusually 
 happy," she said to him crossly. "I should think 
 that you would miss the air, the green grass, and 
 the what is it? the simple life, of Mackerel 
 Cove. Dear me New York is bad enough in Sep 
 tember, under any condition, but to arrive on the 
 hottest day of the year I can t understand your 
 cheerfulness." 
 
 "It is beastly hot, you know," observed Light- 
 hall, with much originality, while Miss Conrad 
 looked at Nelson reproachfully. 
 
 "It will not be so bad in the country," she said 
 pacifically. "You will go with us of course." 
 
 "Of course," said his aunt decisively, while 
 Nelson searched his mind for an excuse that would 
 be at least convincing. His aunt s house party, 
 usually the first week in September, was an annual 
 event which heretofore he had accepted with a 
 lesser indifference than characterized his other en 
 gagements. In his life the seasons came and went 
 with monotonous regularity. There was the usual 
 round of festivities in New York, in the winter 
 months. Palm Beach and perhaps the Bermudas 
 169
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 in the early raw spring. The Northern waters, 
 with his yacht, or a trip to Europe ; Aix or Carls 
 bad, for his health, in the summer. All these were 
 of minor importance events that could be 
 changed, sojourns that could be lengthened, short 
 ened, or postponed indefinitely, or given up al 
 together, according to his own fancy but his 
 aunt s house party in the early autumn was an 
 event that admitted of no declination. When, 
 therefore, she said "of course," he knew that 
 nothing less than his doctor s certificate of serious 
 illness would be accepted by her as an excuse for 
 declining her invitation. 
 
 Of course he was familiar with his aunt s cher 
 ished plans. He knew of her ambition to unite the 
 accumulated fortunes of the surviving descendants 
 of the old house of Thomas & Conrad. In a 
 leisurely way he had considered the plan as pos 
 sible, and even as probable. Anne Conrad s image 
 faultlessly gowned, well-bred, handsome, had 
 haunted him for years. It was Anne who had been 
 to him a friend, good comrade, companion. It was 
 Anne, he confessed to himself, with a shade of irri- 
 170
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 tation, who had encouraged him to write his book 
 who had whetted his appetite for the feast of 
 literature. It was Anne who had just said "of 
 course," and which his aunt had echoed deci 
 sively. It was Anne who was looking into his eyes 
 for his answer. 
 
 All this happened in much less time than it has 
 taken to relate. In fact there was no time at all 
 for Nelson to consider his answer, according to 
 the inexorable laws of good breeding. So he ac 
 quiesced in their decision, and motioned to the 
 waiter to bring him the bill 
 
 Somehow, the beauty of the country appeared 
 to Nelson as it had never appeared before. As the 
 carriage, with its rubber tires, rolled smoothly, 
 noiselessly along the perfectly surfaced roads, the 
 air seemed to freshen as the heat of the day gave 
 way to the soft warmth of the early evening. A 
 little further, and they had turned from the main 
 road into a narrow lane that led to "The Oaks." 
 
 On both sides of the lane were tall hedges of un- 
 cropped privet. Over the top of the hedges he 
 could see on one side an orchard full of fruit-laden 
 171
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 trees. On the other side the ground sloped ab 
 ruptly to a cool, green meadow, through which 
 winding leisurely, in and out of the tall grass 
 flowed a stream of limpid beauty. Nearer the 
 house the lane curved under the grateful umbra of 
 several large oak trees. In the sunny places the 
 grasshoppers jumped wildly ahead of the horses 
 with a sharp "tchk." On a limb of one of the oak 
 trees an importunate robin was wildly calling to its 
 mate, "dear-ee, dear-ee," as if its little heart was 
 bursting with anxious tenderness. 
 
 They sat side by side, touching each other, 
 silently. Often, I don t know how many times, 
 they had taken the drive together. To-day, some 
 how, it was all different. To Nelson had come the 
 joy of loving. To Anne had come an irritating 
 sense of loss. 
 
 These two sat silently side by side, while Light- 
 hall and Mrs. Thomas on the opposite seat were 
 conversing about airy nothings. 
 
 "What a delightful place, "said Nelson fervently 
 as the carriage stopped under the spreading 
 branches of a large tree, in front of the old house. 
 
 172
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Curious, how the building should take on such 
 an air of picturesque beauty. On other occasions 
 it had been nothing more to him than a rather 
 stupid, lonely place in the country ; a place where 
 he was always certain of meeting Anne. He knew 
 that his aunt arranged such matters according to 
 her match-making proclivities. He had accepted 
 the arrangements as a part of her entertainment, 
 to be enjoyed or ignored as the humor possessed 
 him. There was the old part, very old for this 
 country, probably two hundred years, built of 
 stone from a nearby quarry. The walls were of 
 immense thickness, and were pierced with small 
 square windows ; they had been coated with plaster 
 of a drab color that was almost covered with a 
 luxuriant ivy. A long low building containing the 
 halls connected the old with the newer portions. 
 The latter was modern-looking, with numberless 
 bay windows, long and low, in harmony with the 
 general plan of remodeling, and designated by the 
 architect as colonial. 
 
 Projecting from the front veranda was a brick 
 terrace that had been designed for a tea terrace. 
 173
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 A large linden tree extended its limbs overhead; 
 mats of woven grass were laid on the bricks ; there 
 were rustic chairs of curiously contrived bent 
 wood, and small tables holding jardinieres of 
 feathery ferns. 
 
 It was Nelson s favorite place to smoke his after 
 dinner cigar. The others had retired, and he 
 imagined that he would be alone. As he stepped 
 from the veranda a figure in white arose from one 
 of the most secluded chairs. 
 
 "Pardon He stepped to one side as Anne 
 advanced into the moonlight. "Don t go." She 
 hesitated and sat down. 
 
 "I wasn t going," she said, calmly. "I thought 
 it probable that you would come here." She drew 
 a chair into the moonlight in front of her so that 
 she could watch his expression. "Sit there, please." 
 He laughed, and lit his cigar. "It s time for little 
 girls to be in bed but just this once you may sit 
 up ten minutes longer," he said jokingly. 
 
 She drew herself up. He was familiar with the 
 action. He knew that her mood was not in har 
 mony with his jest. Under other circumstances he 
 174
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 would have known just how to sooth her evident 
 displeasure. He had never really loved her. But, 
 they had grown up together, and propinquity had 
 woven and interwoven much of their thoughts and 
 actions. She was intelligent, thoroughly educated, 
 and companionable. Her unconcealed admiration 
 of his budding talents ; her modest suggestions, had 
 spurred him on to renewed efforts, at times when 
 he most needed such incentives. He had played, 
 studied, quarrelled, travelled with Anne for so long 
 a time that he had grown accustomed to her. 
 
 That was all. 
 
 He knew that she was irritable, sensitive. 
 
 "I want to ask your advice your opinion. 
 Promise me that you will give me your honest, your 
 candid opinion." She said it very slowly, very 
 deliberately ; herself in the shadow, her eyes in 
 tently fixed on his face, showing clearly in the 
 moonlight. 
 
 "I will always be honest with you, Anne," he 
 
 answered with equal deliberation. Men are not 
 
 supposed to have the delicate insight necessary to 
 
 fathom a woman s mind ; but Nelson knew, to a cer- 
 
 175
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 tainty, her question before she asked it. The 
 struggle had already commenced in his mind, be 
 tween his ideal sense of right, and what is com 
 monly called right by the majority of so-called 
 good people. On the latter side were visions of a 
 young woman with masses of golden hair glinting 
 and sparkling in the glow of an August afternoon 
 and a little white "bo-it." 
 
 "You know that Mr. Lighthall has asked me to 
 marry him?" Her eyes never left his face for an 
 instant. 
 
 "I know it yes," he answered. "Now comes 
 the crux," he whispered to his soul. "If I get over 
 this and retain my self respect there is hope." 
 
 "What would you advise me to do?" 
 
 "Honest?" said Nelson. 
 
 "Honest," repeated Anne. 
 
 He hesitated for the merest, wavering part of an 
 instant. No man is perfect. 
 
 "Anne," he said quietly, his soft brown eyes 
 glowing kindly, affectionately. "I would not con 
 sider his proposal for a moment." Then he stood 
 up, and for a pretense turned his back to her, as 
 
 176
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 he threw his cigar far over the terrace. Before he 
 turned, a pair of cool, white arms encircled his 
 neck, and the slightest touch of velvety lips 
 brushed his cheek. "Thank you Nelson," she mur 
 mured in his ear. "Good night." 
 And yet 
 
 177
 
 IV 
 
 NELSON, in dressing gown and slippers, was 
 suffering the apathetical feeling that, un 
 fortunately, generally follows the perform 
 ance of highly virtuous actions. His conscience 
 approved so fully that it left him without any of 
 the stimulating thoughts that excite the mind. He 
 had saved Anne from a marriage with Lighthall 
 a contingency which had first appeared to him as 
 supernal luck for the best of reasons: that she 
 was too good for him. Then he had written a 
 short explanatory note to Hilda, also in the 
 practice of duty in which he informed her that he 
 and William Collins were one and the same indivi 
 dual. Both of which, he no doubt assured himself, 
 were morally blameless, commendable actions and 
 in accord with his ideals. To be sure, the probable 
 results of his strict performance of duty seemed to 
 indicate a balance greatly to his taste. Hilda 
 would no doubt regard Nelson Thomas, the million- 
 178
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 aire, with more favor than she had accorded Wil 
 liam Collins, the casual summer boarder. 
 
 Regarding Anne ? 
 
 Well .... 
 
 He was enduring the approval of his conscience, 
 when a servant entered his room with a pot of 
 coffee. On the tray was the morning paper, and 
 Hilda s answer. It was not very long : 
 
 Dear Mr. Thomas: 
 I knew it all the time. 
 
 Sincerely, 
 
 Brunhilda Gunther. 
 
 179
 
 THE Luxmore was one of the most exuberant of 
 the luxurious hotels in a city where extrava 
 gance in hostelries is the rule. It was fur 
 nished with a lavish expenditure that far exceeded 
 all previous attempts in public house fittings. 
 What it lacked in taste was made up in glittering 
 folderols that were positively bewildering. In 
 order that each individual predilection of its cosmo 
 politan guests should be satisfied, nearly every 
 apartment in its vast interior was after a different 
 design ranging from the mediaeval to the present 
 day. 
 
 In the coffee room of the sumptuous pile Nel 
 son sat comfortably, recalling preceding events. 
 For an hour, probably longer, he had been wan 
 dering restlessly around the public rooms of the 
 hotel from the Chinese to the Spanish reception 
 rooms, across to the French alcove, and then to the 
 180
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Dutch cafe thinking thinking of the insignifi 
 cant little note which he carried close to his heart, 
 in an inner pocket. It was not much of a note to 
 cause all the commotion that was agitating his 
 mind ; it was a very flippant, pert sort of a note, 
 but it was remarkable how tenderly he regarded it. 
 As he roamed through the polychromatic halls and 
 recesses, he would stop in each shaded retreat, and 
 stealthily draw forth the envelope that contained 
 a message of but half a dozen words. Then, un 
 der cover of his hand, he would press the bit of 
 paper to his lips and imagine that he could de 
 tect the perfume of pine balsam. This was all 
 preliminary, in a measure, an expression of 
 happiness in the receipt of a letter from Hilda 
 a letter written in her own hand ; a message direct . 
 from her to him. He read it over and over a 
 great many times, for the pure joy of it, and then, 
 like a man, he sat down comfortably in the cafe to 
 reason the matter to a logical conclusion. 
 
 And before long the half dozen words began to 
 assume proportions, the possibilities of which set 
 his pulses to throbbing with a rapidity that caught 
 181
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 his breath. For, if she knew it all the time and 
 there were her own words for it then she knew all 
 the time that he was Nelson Thomas, masquerading 
 as William Collins ? 
 
 The thought caused him a variety of emotions, 
 ranging from hope to deepest despair. But 
 through it all there were pictures faintly out 
 lined, then more graphic in detail passing before 
 his mind s eye like a panorama: the old well in the 
 orchard: the little white cottage emboAvered in 
 green, with the winding path leading to the main 
 road: the walk along the road to Sunset Hill 
 and the glowing skies. 
 
 There were more intimate memories of a small 
 room, from the windows of which he could see the 
 . mottled sunshine, that shone through the leaves of 
 the swaying, clustering vines and the birds, call 
 ing, chirping, twittering with ecstasy : and the 
 kitchen, with its clean white floor, the rows of blue 
 china on the cupboard shelves ; and the low rock 
 ing chair, beside an open window the slender 
 branches of sweet peas were nodding their heads 
 just above the sill. That was her own corner. 
 182
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 These were her everyday surroundings ; the things 
 that she touched with her hands, and brushed with 
 her garments. They encompassed her : invested 
 her : belonged to her alone. 
 
 The air in the cafe was hot, uncomfortable. 
 The red rugs on the floor, the glittering paint and 
 ornaments, seemed to absorb and radiate the latent 
 heat of the day. In the street the long line of 
 buildings on either side appeared to be dried, 
 baked to an ashy grayness. Perspiring men and 
 women jostled, crowded, and tried to avoid con 
 tact with each other at the same time. In a 
 dogged, erratic way they made their way home 
 ward, in the hot and dusty evening 
 
 Nelson called a hansom at the door, and drove 
 to his club. It was necessary to consider certain 
 matters from a new point of view the position 
 into which Hilda s note had placed him. The club, 
 in the summer time, was not a cheerful place to be 
 in. The rugs had all been removed from the 
 floors ; the furniture shrouded in linen covers ; the 
 pictures covered with netting; the cafe was de 
 serted; and the incessant buzzing of the electric 
 183
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 fans only increased the general feeling of unrest 
 and confusion. Although contrary to the rules, 
 the windows of the first floor were raised, to obtain 
 some relief from the oppressive heat. He drew a 
 chair close to one of the open windows, took the 
 note from his pocket, and in the semi-darkness he 
 tried to read between the lines. 
 
 "So you knew it all the time ?" he said, in an 
 undertone, as he suddenly sat up and gazed into 
 the corner of the room. 
 
 One could imagine Hilda sitting in the low 
 chair, opposite. Hilda, with the deep blue eyes, 
 laughing, mocking. Hilda consenting, yielding. 
 Hilda defiant, contumacious that was the mis 
 chief of it he did not know which Hilda he was 
 talking to. 
 
 "You knew it when I engaged the room ?" he 
 whispered; and the recollection made him smile. 
 "By the way ," she had asked, "do you know a 
 gentleman by the name of Thomas?" That was 
 Hilda the mirthful. "I am so anxious to know 
 more about him." He recalled her interested ex 
 pression her eagerness. He brought his clenched 
 184
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 hand down with a thump on the arm of his chair. 
 "And you never suspected anything ?" Then, 
 "What kind of a man is he ?" There was a 
 dainty morsel, indeed. "What kind of a man is 
 he, anyhow ?" He repeated the question, half 
 aloud, and glared into the dark corner of the 
 room. Apparently, there was no comfort coming 
 from that direction. "He s so sure to meet with 
 disappointment." It came from somewhere in the 
 seclusion of his memory like a warning premoni 
 tion of future events. He tried to recall more 
 cheerful recollections. His mind reverted to the 
 confession of love he had described her, minutely 
 he had made her in the name of his friend 
 Thomas. And she had gone away and left him ! 
 
 That must have been Hilda the defiant, the con 
 tumacious. 
 
 Again he took the little note from his inner 
 pocket, and read: "I knew it, all the time." 
 
 He sat for sometime, in the dim light of the 
 shaded electrolier, indolently gazing through the 
 open window at the constant stream of people, 
 185
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 passing to and fro, on the street. Here was a 
 group of shop girls, weary, aching from the con 
 finement of close, ill ventilated stores, hurrying 
 past to homes that were even more depressing. 
 There was a man his eyes hid behind colored 
 spectacles walking slowly very slowly an inch 
 at a time, in order to keep moving lustily sing 
 ing, "Nearer my God to Thee;" while a woman 
 companion, her arm linked in his, was jingling a 
 few pennies in a small tin cup. 
 
 There were the masses, passing in review before 
 him. He could see them, hear them almost touch 
 them, but 
 
 I regret to say, that this student of Life paid 
 them scant attention. He did not even notice the 
 increasing oppressiveness of the air ; the dead 
 calm, in which not the slightest breath or motion 
 of the heavy atmosphere could be felt. He was 
 trying to arrive at some conclusion. At the same 
 time, the air was becoming even more heavy, more 
 suffocating, and, although the streets were ablaze 
 with electric lights, there was a darker background 
 overhead ; a sombre, unreal blackness, that seemed 
 186
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 to come closer to the rim of artificial light, omin 
 ous, threatening. 
 
 Suddenly there was a loud clap of thunder, 
 deafening following instantly a flash of light 
 ning, hardly noticed in the confusion of electric 
 lights. Then down the street came a furious blast 
 of wind warm ; laden with the dust, whirling bits 
 of paper, and the dried debris of the avenue ; tear 
 ing some of the weather-worn awnings ; making 
 the signs creak and swing ; banging the doors ; 
 threatening the large plate-glass windows of the 
 shops ; blowing hats from the heads of unwary 
 pedestrians, high in the air; upsetting, twisting, 
 knocking about nearly everything that happened 
 to be in its blinding, dust-laden, rubbishy path. 
 Then came the rain. 
 
 Nelson closed the window, and stood watching 
 the storm. It was exciting, to see the wild hurry- 
 scurry of the street ; the frantic rush for shelter ; 
 the numerous urgent pursuits of errant hats ; the 
 universal stampede of the outdoor population. 
 The rain came down in pelting, sweeping torrents. 
 The thunder crackled, and fulminated with terrific 
 187
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 detonations. The gutters ran full to the curb 
 with little rivers of swirling, dirty water. And 
 just at the time when he had finally decided that 
 he would call on Hilda, at Mrs Wyse s apartments 
 on West End Avenue, above One Hundred and 
 Fifteenth Street. 
 
 "I will call and and explain," he had decided, 
 just as the storm broke. "I don t care what any 
 body says or thinks. I shall call on her, and 
 speak to her speak to her. Do you hear me ?" 
 
 He nodded defiantly, to nobody in the corner 
 and then he walked slowly upstairs to dinner. 
 
 After dinner it was still raining, and the storm 
 seemed to increase as the night advanced. "I 
 can t possibly get there to-night," Nelson con 
 cluded, dolefully 
 
 The following evening after an interminable 
 day he stepped into a hansom with an impa 
 tience, an eager elasticity,- elatedly ; that was not 
 in accord with his spirit. That craven part of him 
 was suggesting all sorts of difficulties, all manner 
 of discouragements. He was consuming smok- 
 188
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 ing one cigarette after the other, his faculties 
 tense, whirling in anticipation of meeting Hilda. 
 And he imagined that he could hear her voice: 
 
 "Try to be yourself" 
 
 "Do you know Mr. Thomas ?" 
 
 "What kind of a man is he ?" 
 
 "I m so anxious to know more about him 
 
 "Poor man. He s so sure to be disappointed 
 
 So sure to be disappointed. 
 
 The words sounded in his ears like the tolling 
 of a bell over his departed hopes, as the hansom 
 stopped in front of a very plain, modest-looking 
 building, in which were Mrs. Wyse s apartments. 
 
 It was not necessary to go beyond the desk of 
 the flippant young woman, who presided over the 
 office in the first floor hall, to learn his fate. 
 
 "I can send up your card to Mrs. Wyse," she 
 said, in answer to his inquiry, "but Mrs. Donald 
 and Miss Gunther left for Portland this after 
 noon." 
 
 She smiled, flirtingly, in his face as she held her 
 hand poised over the call bell. She was evidently 
 impressed. 
 
 189
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 He stood, staring vacantly into her pale grey 
 eyes ; he noticed the excess of powder on her nose ; 
 the artificial pencilling of her brows ; the unnatural 
 red of her lips, and the enormity of her expanded 
 hair. There are moments when the mind records 
 
 objects like a sensitized film 
 
 "No no, thank you never mind," 
 he stammered, as he recovered his card 
 
 "The Luxmore ," he directed the driver. 
 
 "Take your time there s no hurry." 
 
 190
 
 VI 
 
 THE evening papers contained harrowing details 
 of the storm that had raged with unusual 
 fury all along the Atlantic coast, on the pre 
 vious night ; sailing vessels had been lost, steamers 
 driven ashore, seaside resorts inundated. Nelson 
 Thomas, seated at a little table in the roof-garden 
 of the Luxmore, read the accounts carelessly indif 
 ferent. In his mind the damage to shipping, and 
 to the entire coast line, was of minor importance 
 when compared to the thought that the storm was 
 responsible for the delay that caused him to miss 
 seeing Hilda. "If I had only known that she was 
 going so soon," he sighed, "I would have waded 
 up there storm or no storm." 
 
 He emptied the contents of a miniature decan 
 ter into a large tumbler, nearly filled with crushed 
 ice; then he filled the tumbler from a siphon-bot 
 tle. His excuse for this unusual indulgence must 
 191
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 have been the keen disappointment under which lie 
 was laboring, for Nelson was not, in any sense of 
 the term, a drinking man. In fact, the taste of 
 the whiskey recalled, with a ludicrous association, 
 the last time that he had taken a drink with old 
 man Gunther. He could see the captain fumbling 
 around in the old locker, in his search for the curi 
 ous looking bottle- and the odor ! "Phew !" 
 Somehow there did not seem to be much difference 
 between the smell of the brown-colored, flat bottle, 
 and the dainty little decanter within reach of his 
 hand. He pushed the tumbler from him with a 
 disgusted expression that did not escape the at 
 tention of the lynx-eyed waiter. 
 
 "Perhaps you would like another blend ?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 "No no, thank you. You may bring me a 
 small pot of coffee," Nelson replied. Then he be 
 gan another study of Hilda s well-worn, laconic 
 note 
 
 "By thunder !" he exclaimed, irritably, "she s 
 as obscure and ambiguous as the Delphic priest 
 ess." 
 
 192
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 He paid his check. Then he began an aimless 
 walk around the garden. It was beginning to fill 
 with men and women coming from the various 
 dinner and theatre parties of the can t-get-away 
 population of the great city. The men were in 
 evening costumes, and the ladies were gowned in 
 shimmering light creations, in which pink and 
 white predominated. A line of electric lamps, of 
 large opalescent globes, defined the edges of the 
 roof. Within these lamps were rows of potted 
 evergreen trees, which served as screens ; and 
 there were pergolas covered with growing vines, 
 under which were seats, and little round tables ; 
 and fountains, splashing amid groups of ferns ; 
 and cunningly contrived wooden arches, and 
 structures of the gingerbread variety for the 
 modern Babylonians to walk through ; to laugh, 
 and flirt in ; to drink, and to be merry. 
 
 Nelson passed through the crowd, to the rear of 
 the garden. Here, where the light from the lamps 
 was not so glaring, he contemplated, through an 
 opening in the evergreens, the marvelous view be 
 neath him. At his feet was the city the living, 
 193
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 dormant, strange thing. Irregular patches of 
 glimmering light in the dark walls of the build 
 ings indicated the windows, behind which were the 
 restless in-door part of the population. Long 
 stretches of dazzling brilliancy marked the lines 
 of the streets. Beyond the city was the river 
 gleaming in the rays of the moon like a broad 
 band of silver. Dark, floating objects, pierced 
 with innumerable pin-holes of twinkling light, 
 moved silently to and fro. Beyond the river was 
 another rim of dotted light, and beyond that the 
 mist of the night faded into the majesty of the 
 heavens. 
 
 Nelson stood gazing at the mass of buildings, 
 sombre, gloomy ; then at the splendor of the firma 
 ment. 
 
 He was wrapt in silent meditation. 
 
 Then, as he stood there he was suddenly called 
 to the realities of life, to the exigencies of the hour, 
 by hearing his assumed name called. Looking 
 back, he saw a bell boy, salver in hand, on v.hich 
 was a letter. It was a plain, cheap-looking en 
 velope, addressed in a bold, round hand, and con- 
 194
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 spicuously displayed in the corner was the injunc 
 tion: "Important deliver at once." 
 
 Nelson took the letter, and opened it with no 
 small amount of curiosity. 
 It began: 
 
 MR. WILLIAM COLLINS. 
 
 Respected Friend: 
 The boat race will come off in about 
 ten days. You said that you might like 
 to enter a boat, so I write you in time 
 to do so. Maybe you had better come 
 down to Orr s Island and talk it over. 
 I have a pretty able boat myself, but 
 Captain Herbert Kenneth s Pearl is the 
 slickest thing that ever came into this 
 harbor. He s likely to win out unless, 
 perhaps, you have something better. 
 That s why I write to you. 
 Your friend 
 
 HAGEN GUNTHER. 
 
 Nelson looked again at the envelope, and smiled 
 at the address : -"William Collins, The Luxmore, 
 ." Then he put it in his pocket, with the 
 195
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 note from Hilda. "If she knew it all the time," 
 he concluded, "Uncle Hagen didn t." 
 
 The throngs of people were passing, and repass- 
 ing just as before. The tired musicians were 
 playing, "Love Me and the World is Mine,"- 
 in response to the third clamorous encore from 
 the noisy parties at the small round tables. The 
 men were just as boisterous, the women as artifi 
 cial. But the letter from Orr s Island had changed 
 the whole thing for Nelson. They all seemed to 
 be more friendly more human. He passed them, 
 on his way to the elevator, with a smile on his face 
 that some of the pink and white habitues of the 
 garden accepted as personal attentions and 
 smiled back. In his heart was courage, hope, a 
 confident to-morrow. 
 
 "Bully, old Captain Hagen ," he muttered, ex 
 ultantly. "We ll make Herbert Kenneth think 
 that his boat is going backwards !" 
 
 196
 
 VII 
 
 (~^ HARLIE LIGHTHALL was not a bad sort of 
 ^ a man. His progress thus far, down life s 
 mighty river, had not been marked by any 
 serious accident, or by any of the calamities that 
 seem to beset the man of action. Figuratively, he 
 sat quietly in the middle of his pleasure boat, 
 and allowed the current to carry him where it ran. 
 It usually ran around all the rocks, and carried 
 his boat with it. He had never been obliged to 
 get out and push. To be sure, he was alone in his 
 little boat; and sometimes he felt like jumping 
 overboard even at the risk of breaking his neck 
 from mere loneliness. That was when he saw the 
 mermaids beckoning to him from the rocks. Now, 
 without any propulsion from him, his boat was 
 out of the current, and was wildly careening 
 in troubled waters. What was the matter with 
 him? What had happened to cause such a com- 
 197
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 motion in his usually uneventful life? He had 
 come to the club, much perplexed in mind, to think 
 the thing to a conclusion. But the thing refused 
 to be concluded. It stayed with him, clung to 
 him, possessed him, with a tenacity of purpose that 
 seemed to make his past, aimless existence a mere 
 shell, a bauble that had been suddenly broken at 
 the touch of a finger. "By Jove ! It s ridic 
 ulous. Here, waiter He touched the small call 
 bell on the table in front of him. "Bring me a 
 ricky and a mild Vencedora." 
 
 He lit the cigar, and emitted circling rings of 
 smoke between each sentence. 
 
 "What ever possessed you, anyhow ?" 
 
 "What kind of an old fossil rhabdosteus are you, 
 anyway ?" 
 
 "Why in the dickens did you go on that infernal 
 yacht ?" 
 
 "Why didn t you let well enough alone ?" 
 
 "Now, how do you feel ?" 
 
 Then he would relapse into profound reflection, 
 and go over in his mind all the circumstances lead 
 ing up to the moment when he had asked Miss 
 198
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Conrad a most embarrassing question. A proposal 
 which she had received decorously ; in fact, with 
 the greatest propriety of conduct. He recalled 
 how she had been seated faultlessly gowned, her 
 gloved hands at the proper angle, her head slightly 
 inclined, in a listening attitude, her eyes downcast, 
 modestly. He remembered that he was seated all 
 of a dozen feet away from her as he should have 
 been and how fearful he was lest she should jump 
 up and embrace him, or do something equally fool 
 ish you know. One never can tell how a girl will 
 act under such circumstances. How, instead, she 
 had not exhibited any emotion whatever, but had 
 lowered her head a little more, so that her hat cov 
 ered her eyes, and that was all. That was all, 
 but confound it ! What was he to do now ? 
 This beautiful, unapproachable woman would 
 never come any closer. He never could get her 
 into a corner. Ever since that fateful day on the 
 yacht he had just trailed along after her, like a 
 like a poodle Yes, by Jove ! like a poodle ! He 
 pushed back his chair angrily, and glared up into 
 the beaming face of Nelson Thomas. 
 199
 
 I3RUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 The latter dropped into the chair, on the op 
 posite side of the table. 
 
 "Why, Lighthall old man, what s the matter?" 
 he exclaimed. "You look all obfuscated." 
 
 He touched the call bell. "Let me get you an 
 old-fashioned Martini finest thing in the world 
 for that tired feeling irrigates the barren regions 
 of the brain 
 
 He rang again, and the waiter approached. 
 
 "Send the head waiter here " 
 
 The man disappeared. 
 
 "Only man in the club who knows how to make 
 it ," he explained. "Now what s the trouble 
 with Charles Lyndhurst Lighthall?" 
 
 "Oh nothing much," said the other wearily. 
 He puffed vigorously at his cigar. Then a 
 thought seemed to strike him. "You don t know 
 where I could buy a thrashing machine ?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 "A what?" 
 
 "Something that could lick a man into shape 
 who didn t know when he was well off," he added, 
 gloomily. 
 
 200
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Nelson looked him over with the manner of a 
 skilled diagnostician. 
 
 "That sounds like remorse and you engaged," 
 he said, reproachfully. 
 
 "Engaged, nothing ," blurted Lighthall. 
 
 Nelson s conscience smote him as he scanned his 
 companion s perturbed countenance. He thought 
 of his virtuous advice to Anne Conrad that night 
 on the tea terrace. And he wondered whether he 
 had not been a trifle unjust to Lighthall. 
 
 "But you told me ," he began. 
 
 "Well forget it," snapped Lighthall. "I 
 must have been drunk, or crazy on that blamed 
 yacht of yours, to run my neck into any such 
 noose." 
 
 "Oh you ve had a lover s quarrel," said Nel 
 son, soothingly. He was trying to think of some 
 way by which he could recall that good advice to 
 Anne for which he now felt somewhat ashamed. 
 "After you re married 
 
 "Married !" interrupted Lighthall. "Now 
 listen, Nelson. I am not going to marry Miss 
 Conrad, if I can avoid it honorably." 
 201
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 A glimmer of light was beginning to dawn in 
 the mind of Nelson. 
 
 "Then you have changed your plans- ?" he 
 hazarded. "How about the other party how 
 about Anne ?" 
 
 "That s all that s worrying me," said Lighthall, 
 bluntly. "At the risk of being thought a conceited 
 ass, do you think that she would care very much 
 if if well, if it could be arranged otherwise?" 
 
 Nelson rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. He felt 
 much relief in the turn of affairs that exonerated 
 him from the consequences of as he imagined 
 his advice to Anne. 
 
 "I don t know just how much her feelings are 
 involved," he mused. 
 
 "Oh hang her feelings !" exclaimed Light- 
 hall, desperately. "I never was really engaged, 
 you know," he added, hopefully. 
 
 "Oh then you were never really engaged." 
 
 "I er suggested, that is, proposed marriage 
 to Miss Conrad. . . But she er she never 
 seemed to take me seriously," complained Light- 
 hall. "She never answered me." 
 202
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Smart girl Anne," remarked Nelson, ab 
 sently. "There may be more intelligent young 
 women than Anne, but I haven t seen them." 
 
 "Oh she s intelligent enough," Lighthall 
 agreed. "It isn t Anne it s me." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "I should have known better than to get into 
 such a hole," he asseverated. 
 
 "Perhaps you exaggerate the difficulty," said 
 Nelson, consolingly. "As you say, she may never 
 take you seriously." 
 
 "But suppose she does ?" suggested Lighthall. 
 "Really, Nelson, I don t believe that I care much 
 about marrying. This experience with Miss Con 
 rad has sort of cured me of the notion." 
 
 "Anne is a very superior woman," said Nelson, 
 dreamily. "She reasons well oh, I ve known 
 Anne since she was so high." He held a hand, 
 outstretched about three feet from the floor. 
 "You can just leave it to her," he added, confi 
 dently. 
 
 "I suppose that would be best," assented Light- 
 hall, with unsettled vagueness. 
 203
 
 VIII 
 
 HILDA received Nelson s letter, written to her 
 from the Oaks, with a fluttering nervous 
 ness that did not escape the notice of Mrs. 
 Wyse. But that delightful woman putting two 
 and two together did not comment on the pearl 
 gray envelope, stamped with a seal in wax, and 
 addressed in a remarkably bold masculine hand. 
 She simply called her daughter Grace s attention 
 to some details of housekeeping that would require 
 their presence in the kitchen. And Hilda was left 
 alone in her bedroom. 
 
 For some few moments after they had left her 
 Hilda sat still, the unopened letter in her hand, 
 and her eyes fixed in a fit of retrospection. Then 
 she rose and looked at her reflection in the broad 
 mirror over the chiffonier. It was well worth her 
 attention. There were two dark blue eyes, gleam 
 ing at her with a furtive look in them that made 
 204
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 her uneasy. And her cheeks were red a flaming 
 red. She turned from the mirror with an impatient 
 stamp of her foot. Through the open window 
 the view was through a narrow alley? between 
 tall houses. At the end of the alley was a sec 
 tion of the North River ; and on this square bit 
 of blue moved back and forth the various river 
 craft as seen in moving picture exhibitions. But 
 I doubt if Hilda saw any of the pictures. Her 
 eyes were on the blue sky. Perhaps the letter, un 
 opened in her hand, recalled a beautiful yacht 
 steaming slowly to the North in Portland har 
 bor. It may be that she saw a bronzed face, in 
 which was set a pair of honest brown eyes, gazing 
 down at her from over the hand rail. Possibly 
 she imagined that she felt the grasp of a strong 
 hand a firmer grasp, perhaps, than was really 
 necessary that had lifted her up the ladder and 
 onto the deck of the Phyllis. And the supper ? 
 How hard she had tried to appear indifferent to 
 his advances ! And his very evident displeasure. 
 There may have been a memory of certain con 
 versations, in the tangle of which came vividly: 
 205
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "I want to be happier ," he said. "How shall 
 I try?" 
 
 "Gets an idea into his head then he forgets 
 everything else 
 
 "Ignores everybody .... until he gets 
 what he wants 
 
 "And you said that he was sure to be disap 
 pointed 
 
 She turned quickly, abruptly to the mirror. 
 "Did I say that ?" she asked her reflection 
 aloud. The blushing face looked half ashamed. 
 
 "There is one woman whose indifference is caus 
 ing him the greatest sorrow of his life The 
 lovely face looked almost sad. No doubt she re 
 called his plea: 
 
 "Miss Gunther Hilda surely you know ?" 
 Was there anything Delphian 
 anything ambiguous in the answer she hastened 
 to write to Nelson the little note that he kept in 
 his pocket, close to his heart- ? 
 "I knew it all the time." 
 
 206
 
 IX 
 
 BAR HARBOR was putting up the shutters, 
 and counting the receipts of an unusually 
 good season. Vanity Fair had opened early, 
 and closed late. The numerous pleasure-seekers, 
 coming with plethoric purses early in the summer, 
 had left a generous portion of their money before 
 their departure in September, and a golden after 
 glow seemed to permeate the place. 
 
 In the harbor the numerous yachts had, one by 
 one, drifted into the Southern current into the 
 stream of departing guests. On board the yacht 
 Phyllis riding lazily at anchor there was mani 
 fest a spirit of inactivcness amounting to torpidity. 
 The mate, the engineer, and the fireman had 
 played so many games of poker, and with so many 
 turns of fortune, that it was a matter of much 
 uncertainty as to whom belonged their wages at 
 the approaching pay-day- Judging from appear- 
 207
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 ances, the fireman had experienced more than his 
 share of bad luck; for his face wore an expression 
 of absolute indifference to his surroundings, that 
 was in marked contrast to the lively interest in 
 things that distinguished the actions of the engi 
 neer. The latter was gazing into the hazy calm 
 of the September afternoon, apparently oblivious 
 of the fact that he was dealing the long-suffering 
 fireman a poker hand of more than ordinary bar 
 renness it made Jake groan aloud when he re 
 marked: "I wonder where we are going next ?" 
 
 "T hell !" said Jake, explosively, as he vainly 
 searched his hand for even one little "pair" and 
 they all laughed. 
 
 " Tain t as bad as that," said the mate, who put 
 up his "ante" with each deal, but never risked a 
 bet. "There s something in the wind all right 
 and the wind is blowing South." He spoke with 
 his pipe in his mouth, and all the while gazing 
 fixedly at his cards. His manner indicated that 
 he could tell more if he chose, but that he was not 
 going tp be hurried. 
 
 "It s me for New York," said Jake "that s as 
 208
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 far South as I go." The mate looked at him 
 scornfully. "City rat that s what you are." 
 Then he added mysteriously "suppose now it was 
 Havana, or Porto Rico?" 
 
 "And get blowed up like the Maine !" re 
 torted Jake. "They say them Japanese are reg 
 ular devils no, sir-e-e." 
 
 "Japanese ?" The mate could not express his 
 mean opinion of the fireman s geography. So he 
 just bit harder on the stem of his pipe, and kept 
 a lookout for Captain Botts. There were certain 
 indications that the owner was expected aboard 
 before many moons, and it behooved them to be 
 ready. The steward was responsible for the infor 
 mation that the captain had received a telegram 
 from New York, before he had gone ashore. 
 
 So, in a measure, they were prepared for a 
 peculiar low whistle, that came from a hand, who 
 was stowed away on the upper deck. 
 
 "That s him ," said the mate, sententiously. 
 
 "Chuck it and git!" 
 
 There was a hasty settling of accounts with Joe, 
 the engineer and banker. A rapid sweeping up 
 209
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 of the chips. A quick resumption of coats, collars, 
 and caps and everything was in order as the launch 
 containing the owner and captain came along 
 side 
 
 An hour later Nelson and the captain were talk 
 ing things over in the cabin. 
 
 "That s a good hard-working crew ," said the 
 former, commendinglj. 
 
 "Well the re not so good that it hurts," com 
 mented the captain. "Off and on, the re bout an 
 average." He slapped a persistent mosquito into 
 sudden death- and began to fill his pipe. 
 
 "How would they do for a Southern cruise 
 later on?" Nelson inquired. 
 
 "Oh they d be all right all except Jake, the 
 fireman." 
 
 "What s the matter with him?" 
 
 "Well, he has a sweetheart in New York, and 
 the re always writing back and forth. He never 
 goes more than one cruise The old skipper 
 pulled a sulphurous match across the leg of his 
 trousers, and screwed up his face as the fumes 
 filled his eyes and nostrils. "I doubt if you could 
 210
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 get him past New York harbor without desert 
 ing he d try to swim ashore." 
 
 Nelson, leaning back on the leather cushions, 
 suddenly felt a warm sympathy for the long, lean 
 white-faced individual, who, heretofore, had been 
 to him nothing more than a sort of automatic 
 stoker something that worked along with the rest 
 of the machinery and stopping when the engineer 
 shut off steam. Jake, with a sweetheart ? Jake 
 risking his life to be with her to see her ! 
 
 "I ll see Jake about that myself," he said to the 
 captain. Then suddenly : 
 
 "What kind of boats do they have down at Orr s 
 Island?" he questioned. 
 
 "Boats !" The honest skipper held his pipe 
 in suspension, his mouth open. What was this 
 erratic owner of his driving at now ? "Boats ? 
 Well, most every kind, from a catboat to Ken 
 neth s Pearl." 
 
 "That s the one," Nelson explained. "Do you 
 
 know of any boat of its class that could beat her 
 
 in a race?" He sat up and tapped impatiently 
 
 with his knuckles on the wooden arm of his chair. 
 
 211
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 The captain was not very quick in his mental 
 process ; but, when an idea came along pushing 
 everything before it, crowding out every other 
 thought, he managed to see it and sometimes to 
 grasp it. He smiled at the marked anxiety in 
 Nelson s action. "There s plenty in her class that 
 could beat the Pearl," he affirmed, resuming his 
 gravity. "There was one here, a week ago a 
 
 thirty-foot designed by Herreshoff 
 
 If she was handled right He gazed thought 
 fully into the bowl of his pipe. "In my opinion 
 it s the man who handles the boat, more than the 
 craft itself He paused for a moment, and 
 looked hard at Nelson. "Had you thought of 
 sailing her yourself ?" 
 
 "That s my intention," asserted Nelson, 
 promptly. 
 
 "I thought as much ," nodded the skipper, 
 approvingly. He had grasped the idea, and had 
 taken firm hold of it. "She was built for a racer, 
 and defeated some smart boats, when her owner 
 thought that she was too good for that work 
 
 "Too good for racing ?" interrupted Nelson. 
 212
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Well you see, the Irene is equally good in a 
 breeze of six or twenty-six miles it s all the same 
 to her," explained the captain. "And the owner 
 just nat cherly kept her for his own use." 
 
 "Seems to me that s the kind we want," ap 
 proved Nelson. "A good able boat that will come 
 handy for any kind of service. Is she for sale ?" 
 Down somewhere, in the inner recesses of his heart, 
 a thought was causing it to expand with a sudden 
 access of joy, how Uncle Hagen would like to 
 own a boat like that. 
 
 "He might sell her so he told the mate, if he 
 gets his price," answered the captain. 
 
 "Where is she now ?" asked Nelson, as he 
 nervously took out his watch. The trifling matter 
 of buying a thirty-foot yacht might be done before 
 dinner. 
 
 "She left here for New York she s about 
 reached there now," calculated the captain on 
 his fingers. 
 
 Again Nelson consulted his timepiece. 
 
 For a brief moment he sat in a nerveless state 
 of indecision. It seemed to be so utterly foolish, 
 213
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 so extraordinary. He imagined that his wiser self 
 was laughing at him, jeeringly. Was asking him 
 why he did not go straight to her by the next 
 train, and demand yes, demand her answer to his 
 proposal. Just insist she s sure to to Then 
 his wiser self faded away, and the deep blue eyes 
 were looking into his, mocking, defiant. 
 
 He raised his eyes to meet the captain s. 
 
 "How soon could we get under way ?" he 
 asked 
 
 There was no question that the old man felt 
 prouder of answering. He was in a continual 
 state of preparedness. 
 
 "In half an hour if you wish." 
 
 "All right ," assented Nelson, cheerfully, 
 "we ll start for New York as soon as you are 
 ready." .... 
 
 Jake, the fireman, received the news by wireless 
 telegraphy and the way that he coaxed that fire 
 into a sudden white heat was a wonder. And all 
 the time that he was shoveling, and sweeping, and 
 watching the steam gauge, he was humming: "I 
 on-ly know I love you out of tune, and off 
 214
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 the key- until he happened to glance up and saw 
 the owner looking at him. 
 
 He was holding something in his outstretched 
 hand, and beckoned Jake to come to the window. 
 "Give her that " he said, in an undertone, "when 
 we get to New York." 
 
 Jake, wondering, took the little brown envelope 
 between the tips of a black thumb and finger. 
 Then he opened the sealed flap and counted in 
 brand new bills well he counted considerably 
 more than his pay. 
 
 215
 
 PART FOURTH.
 
 "O EHOLD, Nelson again on board of the little 
 JL) steamer Aucocisco, en route for Orr s Island. 
 A peculiar man, and one who, having made 
 up his mind what he wants, will never give up try 
 ing until he gets it. He had made up his mind on 
 one subject: that he loved Hilda with every desire 
 that was in him. She was a blessing a benedic 
 tion. Her sudden appearance into his life had 
 given him grace and virtue a new life in which 
 her spirit murmured in his ears, in which the 
 witchery of her presence was ever before his eyes. 
 
 The old life was barren, fruitless. It now 
 seemed to him to have been without aim or ambi 
 tion. A tiresome existence of fuss and feathers, of 
 tinsel and gilding frayed and somewhat soiled. 
 
 From now on he was possessed of but one idea: 
 to be with her, to love her, to win her if he could, 
 but to love her forever. And all this had come 
 219
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 to him in so short a time that he smiled at the 
 recollection. "But it is not the love of days and 
 weeks," he reflected. "My heart has been crying 
 for her all these years. My soul has prayed for 
 her from the beginning. Now I know now I 
 know" .... 
 
 He drew up a chair to the place he tried to 
 imagine that it was the identical spot where he 
 had sat on his first trip to the island. Then he 
 lighted his pipe and surveyed the surroundings, 
 and the few passengers who were coming aboard. 
 He was not impatient, or restless. His life was 
 ahead of him his new life and he was surprised 
 to find that the boat had left her moorings and was 
 backing out slowly into the harbor 
 
 There was a snap of cold in the air that be 
 tokened the advent of autumn. The sea was rest 
 lessly tossing and splashing around the bow of the 
 steamer, under the disturbing influence of an ad 
 verse wind and tide. As the boat advanced into 
 the more open sea emerging from the shelter of 
 the harbor the wind blew strong and cold. The 
 little group of passengers hurried to the protec- 
 220
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 tion of the cabin, leaving Nelson alone on the deck. 
 He buttoned his overcoat more closely under his 
 chin and walked forward to the bow, where he 
 could more thoroughly enjoy the keen, rough 
 breeze and the tumultuous waves. He might have 
 been alone on the vessel. No summer boarders 
 now joined their laughter with the rippling of the 
 summer seas. They had all departed, like birds of 
 passage, for the Southland. Only those islanders 
 whose necessities required them to make the trip 
 were aboard the Aucocisco, and these were in the 
 seclusion of the cabin. There was no music ; no 
 dreamy waltzes in the air ; no sound save the sharp 
 whistling of the wind across the bare decks and 
 
 projecting upper works of the steamer 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders, and paced up and 
 down the deck with a quickened stride. Things, 
 somehow, were standing forth sharp, distinct. 
 The sea had a sinister, a darker hue. The blue and 
 gold of the skies had given way to the white and 
 gray. "This is the season of early fall," he said 
 to himself, thoughtfully. "What becomes of these 
 islanders in the winter ?" 
 221
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 A vision of storms and terrible cold ; of blinding 
 sleet and hail ; of tempestuous gales whirling in 
 wild fury across the shores of the beautiful islands 
 against the frail wooden walls of a little white cot 
 tage at the end of a lane. He imagined that 
 he could see Hilda, cowering, sinking with fear 
 into her chair by the window, as the fierce storm 
 rattled the light sashes. And only Uncle Hagen 
 to protect her. "By Jove ! she must feel 
 
 lonely," he said, compassionately He 
 
 went over and stood under the lee of the funnel, 
 as a protection from the increasing cold. A chill 
 was creeping over him, and he had a feeling that 
 if he relaxed the grip of his jaw his teeth would 
 chatter then he sought the warmth of the cabin, 
 and found himself admiring the good sense of the 
 islanders, who had gone there first, and who had 
 secured the best seats. When the boat arrived at 
 Orr s Island it was quite dark. Nelson, loitering 
 in the rear, saw the few passengers disappear into 
 the night at about the same moment of his dis 
 covery that the hotel at the landing had evi 
 dently been closed for the season. Impatiently he 
 222
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 pounded and rattled the doors, and then, forming 
 a sudden resolution, he went back to the boat. He 
 had decided to return to Portland, and then to 
 come back in the morning. But the influence that 
 controlled him, having landed him safely on Orr s 
 Island, seemed loath to have him depart. The 
 Aucocisco had made her last trip for the day. To 
 make matters more disagreeable, a drizzling rain 
 and fog had followed in the wake of the cold east 
 wind, and the clouds had settled in a dense black 
 ness that was most depressing. As he stood, damp 
 and shivering, in the middle of the road, he could 
 hear the monotonous lapping of the sea, as it 
 rushed in and out among the stones of the beach. 
 Behind him rose the island, dark and gloomy. In 
 stinctively, he turned his steps towards the nearest 
 light a twinkling ray from the window of a near 
 by cottage. His hand was on the gate of the low 
 fence in front of the house, when his mood 
 changed. "No I m going back to my old room, 
 in Captain Gunther s cottage," he muttered. 
 "Rath-er unconventional that s a fact, but 
 well, somehow .... 
 223
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 He faced the misty rain, the enveloping fog, and 
 tramped sturdily along the road to Hagen Gun- 
 ther s cottage. The darkness was so dense that he 
 kept to the road more by instinct than vision. 
 Occasionally his foot scraped sharply along a pro 
 jecting stone ; then he would suddenly step into a 
 pool of mud, or spongy moss. Several times he 
 wandered off the road, and found himself plunging 
 into gulleys, or running against the low hanging 
 branches of trees. Once his courage failed him, 
 and he half resolved to sit down somewhere and 
 wait until morning. Altogether he was in a half 
 ludicrous and altogether uncomfortable situation. 
 How his club friends would laugh if they knew of 
 his predicament ? Or Anne ? Anne, with her 
 fine sarcasm, and her keen sense of humor. "Never 
 theless," he protested, after another hour of 
 stumbling along the main road, "I propose to get 
 there, if it takes all night." 
 
 Was it the main road ? 
 
 He had a dim foreboding that somewhere he had 
 deviated from the highway, and that things were 
 less familiar. 
 
 224
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Was that the sea ? 
 
 The sound was surely growing fainter, more 
 distant. He stood still and listened. The silence 
 was so profound, so intense, that he could hear the 
 circulation of his blood ringing in his ears. So 
 far as any signs of human habitation went, he was 
 alone on the island 
 
 There was nothing to do but to turn back ; to 
 stop at the first house he came to, and to ask for 
 a night s lodging. But when he faced around 
 there was no light to be seen. Only darkness, im 
 penetrable. 
 
 Again he thought that he heard the sea ; but it 
 was only the sound of the water trickling from 
 the overburdened trees. 
 
 His exertions had warmed him ; had started his 
 circulation so that he was no longer chilly. He 
 felt for his pipe, and soon had a glowing nose 
 warmer, that solaced his perturbed spirit. 
 
 "I m here, anyway ," he said, philosophically, 
 as he sat down on a boulder. "I might have fallen 
 off the island." .... 
 
 Haying exhausted his resources, and having 
 225
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 resigned himself to a condition of moralizing in 
 activity, the inevitable happened and the fog 
 moved out to sea. 
 
 In a few moments a white glow appeared, grow 
 ing brighter and more distinct; and a few stars. 
 Then came the full silvery light of the moon. 
 
 Nelson arose and beheld with astonishment the 
 marvelous change in his surroundings. The sky 
 was ablaze with light, and the stars seemed like 
 great jewels, set in an overhanging dome. Be 
 neath his feet, stretching like a carpet covered 
 with glittering crystals, the grass-grown hillside 
 fell abruptly to the edge of the bay. A bay that 
 was shimmering and reflecting the heavens like a 
 mirror. A bay with a mysterious island edging its 
 outer circumference. It might have been Alcina s 
 Isle. And each dark tree standing silently in the 
 night may have been her lovers, silenced into ever 
 lasting repose by her enchantments. 
 
 He turned, and behold ! there was a broad 
 
 expanse of pine-covered hill, and vale: and a vista 
 
 of sheltered coves, indenting the shores. And wide 
 
 reaches of water, shining in the moon s rays like 
 
 226
 
 BRUNHILTDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 molten silver: within an encircling blue horizon. 
 And white caps, leaping, dancing. And there, 
 afar off, was the light-house, that flashed and was 
 dark, flashed and was dark again. 
 
 Impulsively he retraced his path up the hill 
 and regained the main road. There, not more 
 than half a mile away, he could plainly see Hagen 
 Gunther s cottage. In the window a cheerful, 
 steady light shone like a beacon. 
 
 Nelson, the peculiar the singular young man, 
 stood for quite a long time peering into the night 
 towards the cottage. 
 
 Then he refilled his pipe; went back to his 
 boulder on the hillside, and sat for sometime gaz 
 ing at the moon 
 
 Perhaps he was comparing himself to a certain 
 Astolpho son of Otho who was carried on the 
 back of a whale to Alcina s Isle, and who was turned 
 into a myrtle by Alcina when she tired of him. 
 He might have been wondering whether Melissa 
 in the form of Anne would take the trouble to 
 disenchant him. Or, perhaps like Astolpho, he 
 could see in the moon the wasted hours of his life ; 
 227
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 the broken vows and resolutions ; the fruitless 
 efforts ; his good intentions, prayers and tears. It 
 may be that Selcne y the full moon, forgets these 
 things when she kisses Endymion, the sunset. Pos 
 sibly being in love she hides these wasted things 
 of earth when she kisses Endymion during the 
 night on Sunset Hill. 
 
 228
 
 II 
 
 UT .1 HAT are you reading Hilda?" 
 
 VV Captain Gunthcr laid down his paper, 
 
 and looked over his spectacles at the 
 wealth of bronze hair that was shining like gold 
 under the shaded evening lamp. Her head bent 
 low over a book that was open in her lap. She 
 took it up carelessly and examined its cover, as 
 though she had forgotten the title. "This ?" 
 She looked at it more closely. "It s called Creative 
 Crudities." 
 
 "Oh The old man looked wise, as was his 
 habit whenever he attempted to keep the pace with 
 his educated niece. "Who s it by ?" he ventured, 
 casually. 
 
 "Who s it by " she repeated, dreamily. 
 
 Again she raised the book to her face and care 
 fully scanned the cover. "It s by Thomas," she in 
 formed him. 
 
 229
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Thomas Thomas who ?" persisted the cap 
 tain. He had finished his paper, and he was ready 
 for any kind of conversation. 
 
 She looked up a trifle impatiently. 
 
 "Oh Uncle Hagen it s not Thomas anybody. 
 That s his last name. He s Nelson Thomas." 
 
 "Never heard of him said the captain, 
 promptly. "What s it about ?" Whenever her 
 uncle would show any interest in her books, it had 
 always been Hilda s custom to read aloud but 
 now she was strangely silent. "I don t think that 
 you would care for it exactly," she smiled. 
 
 "Try me answered the old man, as he re 
 moved his spectacles, leaned his head on the back of 
 his chair, and stretched his legs in front of him. 
 
 A mischievous light was in her eyes as she took 
 up the book. "Well it s about Creation the 
 creation of man, you know." 
 
 The captain nodded intelligently. "Of course 
 I understand that all right. That s why he calls it 
 Creation Crickyties." 
 
 She permitted that to pass, and began reading : 
 "It s rather disconcerting to the believer in the 
 230
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Divine origin of man, to learn that he is descended 
 from a hairy, tailed quadruped, a habitant of the 
 primeval forests in the oldest of the old worlds. 
 From the quad She caught a glimpse of her 
 uncle s face as she turned a page, and it nearly 
 finished her reading. 
 
 "The what?" he exclaimed. 
 
 He had drawn in his feet and was bending for 
 ward with both elbows resting on the arms of his 
 chair. 
 
 "From the quad " she went on. "Dear me 
 what a word quadrumana." 
 
 "What s a quadroon Anna ?" queried the cap 
 tain. "Maybe he means mulatto- ?" 
 
 "I m sure I don t know," replied Hilda, doubt 
 fully. "Where was I ?" she ran her finger care 
 fully down the page. "Oh yes, here it is." She 
 resumed her reading: "And that the quadru 
 mana, with the higher mammals 
 
 "You mean animals " corrected the captain. 
 
 "It says mammals." Hilda affirmed. "Mam 
 mals are descended from an old marsupial 
 animal 
 
 231
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORE S ISLAND 
 
 "I told you it was animal," interrupted the old 
 man proudly. He rocked back and forth, as Hilda 
 went on: "And these in turn come from some 
 amphibious creature 
 
 He threw back his head and seemed to tax his 
 memory. "Amphibious? he interrupted, "let 
 me think a moment." 
 
 Hilda stopped reading. 
 
 "Well, what s the difficulty?" she asked. 
 
 "Oh I was just thinking that an amphibious 
 creature means means er both ways ?" 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 He got up and went to a little shelf that hung 
 in a corner of the room. Here from amongst 
 an odd collection of worn books he drew forth 
 a dictionary. He turned over the well-thumbed 
 pages "Here it is- Amphibious, having the fac 
 ulty of living in two elements, air and water." He 
 closed the book. "And these in turn arc descended 
 from some fish-like animal : resumed Hilda. 
 Then she thought she heard footsteps approaching 
 the cottage. She stopped and listened. It must 
 have been the wind. She shivered a little. 
 232
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "How cold it is getting. Suppose we start the 
 fire ?" she suggested. 
 
 There was a wide, stone fireplace ; and a pair 
 of iron dogs, across which* was laid a few logs of 
 satiny white birch. Underneath was stuffed some 
 paper, and a few pine cones. 
 
 "It is kind of chilly " assented the captain, as 
 he broke off a sulphur match from a block, on the 
 mantle. "I ll light it and also my pipe." He 
 filled an old briar-wood from an earthen jar of 
 tobacco and striking the match he lit his pipe 
 first and then the paper under the logs. 
 
 "The smoke won t bother you Hilda," he 
 apologized. "When the fire begins to draw." The 
 flames were leaping and crackling around the logs 
 as the skipper pulled his chair closer. 
 
 After he drew in each mouthful of smoke, he 
 would make an ostentatious and entirely unnec 
 essary effort to blow it up the chimney. Hilda 
 watched his performance with a loving smile. The 
 rugged face in which the deepest wrinkles lay 
 about the kindly blue eyes shone dim and soft, in 
 the fitful glow of the firelight. 
 233
 
 BRUNHILD A OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "You know that I love the smell of tobacco," she 
 assured him. And then impulsively, she arose, 
 went to him, and putting an arm around his broad, 
 sturdy shoulders, she kissed his old weather-beaten 
 cheek. 
 
 She felt the patient goodness of the man ; the 
 sudden premonition of loss, should anything hap 
 pen to him, and a feeling of gratitude for all that 
 he had done for her "You just smoke as much as 
 you please Uncle Hagen," she said, tenderly. 
 
 Creative Crudities slipped from her lap with a 
 noisy crash to the floor. He picked it up and 
 handed it to her. 
 
 "What came ahead of the fish-like animal?" he 
 asked her, as she resumed her seat and opened the 
 book. 
 
 She skipped over two or three pages, read a 
 few lines, skipped some more pages, and closed the 
 volume. "It doesn t say she replied, with a 
 little sleepy yawn. Then she leaned over and drop 
 ping her chin in her hands, her elbows on her knees, 
 she stared into the cheerful fire 
 
 For some moments they sat watching the flicker- 
 234
 
 \ 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 ing blaze neither caring to talk. Then the cap 
 tain broke the silence. 
 
 "Where did you get that book ?" he asked. 
 The tone of his voice indicated the measure of his 
 disapproval. 
 
 "I bought it in New York " she replied, still 
 staring into the fire. It must have been the reflec 
 tion from the hot embers that made her cheeks 
 burn. 
 
 "Well t ain t much " the old man criticized. 
 "I don t have any trouble in classing men from 
 monkeys, snake-birds, and devil fish. A man can 
 think about his past and be sorry or glad, but 
 mostly sorry. Then a man can hope for better 
 things to come. And he has a conscience a 
 mighty lively one sometimes. And he can talk, 
 and read, and think about things. And a man can 
 pray. Did you ever hear of a monkey, snake- 
 bird, or devil fish that could do all that ?" 
 
 Hilda shook her head positively. 
 
 "No indeed." 
 
 The captain smoked, contemplatively. Then he 
 spoke as though he had been thinking aloud: 
 235
 
 BRUNIIILDA OF ORR S 1ST AND 
 
 "Anyway, " ho said conclusively, "if God could 
 make a monkey -or a bird ; a fish, a snake, or an 
 oyster He surely could make a man, at the same 
 time ?" He glanced with undisguised resentment 
 at the book on Hilda s lap. "It s creating life 
 that s what it is ; that s the miracle ; that s what 
 they can t explain or figure out." Again his eyes 
 rested on the little volume. 
 
 "What s the use of talking that way ?" he 
 growled 
 
 Then, he began to nod. 
 
 She sat by the fire for a long time so quietly 
 that Uncle Hagen, missing the sound of her voice, 
 went fast asleep. Then, she arose, and throwing 
 a cape over her shoulders, she walked softly to the 
 front door and opened it gently, very gently and 
 stepped out into the glorious moonlight. It was 
 nearly ten o clock. The air was cool, refreshing. 
 A light breeze laden with the softness of the sea, 
 was whispering in the apple trees in the orchard; 
 the faint murmur of the waves splashing against 
 the rocks in a near-by cove, reached her ears ; there 
 was no sound from the sleeping village. 
 236
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 She walked slowly down the lane, thinking, won 
 dering, deciding that it was all a dream. And it 
 still seemed to be a dream as she saw the object 
 of her thoughts coining towards her. Strange to 
 say, she was not surprised nor frightened, for it 
 was all happening just as she had imagined that it 
 would happen. And his face was so full of love 
 so kind and appealing. She was not afraid on 
 the contrary she felt that she was quickening her 
 steps to meet him. 
 
 He took her hand 
 
 "Hilda" 
 
 "Oh ?" she said, and then she vainly tried to 
 dispel the dream, to be conventional. She had been 
 perfectly sure that it was going to happen, just as 
 it was happening. She had made up her mind 
 what she would say to him, and yet, somehow, he 
 had found her unprepared. 
 
 "Hilda " he said simply, "I love you." 
 
 She knew what he was going to say, and yet she 
 
 gasped held her breath. She had been so sure of 
 
 herself; she had been so certain of her duty, of 
 
 what she should say to him. And here she was 
 
 237
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 trembling with her heart dancing in ecstasy. She 
 turned towards the cottage away from him. 
 
 "Mr. Thomas " she said, almost inaudibly. 
 
 He seized her cape -her arm. 
 
 "Hilda I love you. Don t go will you marry 
 me ?" He retained his hold of her. He was 
 afraid that she would again run away from him. 
 "Don t she said, drawing away, gently. 
 "Please don t touch me." After all the careful 
 thought and preparation to find herself so weak 
 when the moment had arrived. But the joy, the 
 happiness that had come to her ! But she must 
 obey her conscience. 
 
 "Hilda ?" There was a volume of entreaty, 
 remonstrance, almost despair in his voice. 
 
 "No no, I can t " she whispered. "I must go 
 back to the house Uncle Hagen will miss me- 
 
 "I ll go back with you he said with deter 
 mination. "I ll tell the captain myself." 
 
 "No no," she said, hurriedly. "It isn t that" 
 
 "Then what is it?" he demanded. 
 
 "Now now is the time," she thought. But her 
 voice trembled, miserably. 
 238
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Ask Miss Conrad," she said, faintly. 
 
 A great light dawned on him. There was only 
 the moon and the stars visible to his eyes, but a 
 mental illumination lighted his mind so that the 
 moon and the stars seemed to dance together in one 
 maze of bewildering glory. 
 
 "Is that all ?" he said, jubilantly. 
 
 His heart was singing in triumph. 
 
 "Isn t that enough?" 
 
 She had performed her duty ; her conscience was 
 at rest. The thought that had oppressed her ever 
 since she had seen Anne, on board of the Phyllis 
 and Captain Botts may have said something, too 
 was now spoken. 
 
 "Hilda look here." He moved closer to her 
 and looked straight into her eyes. 
 
 "Do you care for me at all ?" 
 
 "I, gracious !" her eyes chanced to glance 
 towards the cottage, and there was Uncle Hagen 
 his head and shoulders framed in an open window 
 looking right and left. 
 
 "Do you ?" repeated Nelson, obstinately. 
 
 "Oh I must go " she pleaded. 
 239
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Do you ?" he insisted. 
 
 She saw her uncle close the window and then re 
 appear at the open door. 
 
 He was coming towards them down the lane. 
 
 "Yes oh, go. Please go 
 
 Nelson caught the outstretched hand for the 
 smallest part of a second and kissed it. "Go 
 hurry, " she whispered. 
 
 There was a flutter of a skirt, as Hilda disap 
 peared into the shrubbery that bordered the lane. 
 
 Then Nelson turned and walked, deliberately up 
 the lane, towards the cottage. 
 
 "Why hello ! Collins said the captain, 
 cordially. "Where did you come from ?" 
 
 "Straight from New York " chirped Nelson, 
 with gladsome gaiety. Yes she certainly said 
 "yes" there was no doubt of it. 
 
 "Came down to show you fellows how to sail a 
 boat " he continued merrily. I am positive that 
 she said "yes." 
 
 "Oh you did laughed the captain, good 
 naturedly. "Got your boat with you ?" 
 
 He peered around, curiously. "What s that ?" 
 240
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 He listened intently. "Thought I saw something 
 moving through the bushes he explained. 
 "Guess I m getting to see double at night 
 
 "The boat will be here on time Nelson as 
 sured him. "She s a wonder 
 
 "So you don t tell me" 
 
 The captain was chuckling and rubbing his 
 hands. "Come right in and tell me about her 
 he turned, and was walking towards the cottage. 
 Then he stopped abruptly. 
 
 "Where s your grip ?" 
 
 "My grip ?" Nelson looked foolishly around 
 on the ground. 
 
 "Oh there it is under that tree 
 
 He felt that some explanation was necessary to 
 account for that vagrant bag lying by the way 
 side but there was none forthcoming. 
 
 "Just threw it overboard, to lighten ship ?" 
 suggested the old man. 
 
 Nelson went back and picked up the small leather 
 
 bag that he had carried all through his foggy 
 
 wanderings. There was a twinkle in the captain s 
 
 eyes as he watched him. He seemed to be in his 
 
 241
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 most jovial mood as they walked along together. 
 Perhaps he was rejoicing in the anticipation of a 
 good boat race ? It may be that he was not so 
 unobservant as Hilda believed. Or conceivably a 
 man can hear things when he is supposed to be 
 asleep ? 
 
 They were just on the threshold of the house 
 when he turned to Nelson with the question : "Say 
 do you talk much to yourself?" 
 
 "I ?" Nelson felt himself getting uncomfort 
 ably warm. How much did this innocent looking 
 old skipper know ? 
 
 "Sometimes I do " he answered slowly, "when 
 I haven t anyone better to talk to 
 
 The captain nodded his head. 
 
 "That accounts for it " he said as though he 
 had solved a mystery, "I thought I heard two per 
 sons talking but it must have been only you." 
 
 Then he ushered Nelson into the cosy little sit 
 ting-room. A few charred sticks were still glow 
 ing in the fireplace. The well-worn chairs looked 
 comfortable there was a hospitable smell of 
 tobacco in the air. 
 
 242
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Sit right down " insisted the captain, as he 
 pushed his own rocker nearer the hearth. 
 
 "You re going to stay with us of course." 
 "I m afraid that I shall inconvenience 
 "Inconvenience nobody," the captain inter 
 rupted him, "I ll call Hilda." .... 
 
 243
 
 Ill 
 
 HILDA had slipped through the orchard and 
 into the back door of the cottage before the 
 men arrived. In response to her uncle s call 
 she had tripped down the stairs and into the sit 
 ting-room with an outstretched hand of welcome 
 for Mr. Collins. 
 
 "He wants his same room, Hilda," the captain 
 informed her, "and I don t believe he s had a 
 mouthful for supper 
 
 "Really captain Nelson protested. 
 "Got lost in the fog and nearly fell off the 
 island " continued the captain. 
 
 "I m not a particle hungry interjected 
 Nelson, as he saw Hilda moving towards the 
 kitchen. 
 
 "Been ever since seven o clock getting up here 
 from the landing," the old man informed her. 
 Hilda tried to appear interested. 
 244
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Broke down in the lane, and threw over his bag 
 gage " he laughed. 
 
 Hilda looked puzzled. 
 
 "Coming along with the current, when I saw him 
 and towed him in " .... 
 
 She permitted her eyes to rest in his, with an 
 intelligence that set his heart to throbbing wildly. 
 Then she arose 
 
 "Your room is ready whenever you wish to 
 retire. Good-night Mr. Collins." .... 
 
 The fire burned low there was only a few pieces 
 of burnt wood, spangled with fitful sparks of fire 
 and still, old man Gunther sat, with his head buried 
 deep in the palms of his brawny hands. 
 
 I venture to say, that he was recalling an inci 
 dent in his life, an incident that gave him nearly 
 two years of happiness and then a life in which 
 there was nothing left but its memory. As he sat 
 brooding over the dying embers of the little wood 
 fire, buried in thought, he could see the image of a 
 tall, straight, eager young man with ruddy 
 cheeks and laughing blue eyes. And, near by was 
 another vision, of a maid a girl scarcely broke 
 245
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 from school with mirthful hazel eyes, under long, 
 drooping lashes. A maid with hair of chestnut 
 brown; with a mouth red-lipped, and full of lurk 
 ing gravity. A maid with the tall lithe form, and 
 poise of an Indian Princess. Then, this vision of a 
 maid faded away ; leaving the young man alone 
 just as she had left him years before. 
 
 I doubt not that he recalled the sudden agony of 
 loss that had come upon him, with such overwhelm 
 ing sorrow, that even now after all the interven 
 ing years the memory of her had become a grief 
 so sacred, that it lay buried in his heart deep in 
 its most secret recesses a blessed thing; a reli 
 gion 
 
 I imagine that he was thinking of the day when 
 his ship had sailed out of Portland Harbor, bound 
 on a trading cruise around the world she was 
 three years making the voyage. And during all 
 that time a pair of hazel eyes had haunted his 
 vision, and blurred his senses ; so that in the streets 
 of Hong-Kong, off the coast of Australia, or in 
 the lonely watches of the night, he could think of 
 
 but little else 
 
 246
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 And then had come to him the sorrow of others 
 the wonderful panacea for a grief laden soul 
 and the comforting of the homeless little orphan, 
 Brunhilda his brother Etzel s only child. 
 
 The fire was out there was nothing but a few 
 sticks of charred wood and ashes and still "old 
 man Gunther" sat by the hearth, with his head 
 buried deep in the palms of his brawny hands. 
 
 247
 
 IV 
 
 WOUT last night you said yes " , Nelson re- 
 
 JD monstrated. 
 
 "Oh that wasn t fair," answered Hilda. 
 "I did not want Uncle Hagen to know " 
 
 "Well, he knows now," he asserted. 
 
 A shade of annoyance, anxiety, passed over 
 Hilda s face. 
 
 "What do you mean ?" 
 
 "I told him last night," he affirmed. 
 
 "You told him what?" I am sure that she was 
 thinking more of the captain that moment than of 
 herself. 
 
 "I told him that I had asked you to marry me," 
 he said, boldly. 
 
 "Oh ," she exclaimed. "Poor Uncle Hagen !--" 
 
 His heart jumped, he caught his breath. 
 
 "Why poor Uncle Hagen ?" he reassured 
 her. 
 
 248
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "He ll miss you of course, but 
 
 "Oh I wasn t thinking of that ," she cor 
 rected gently, smiling. There was mischief lurk 
 ing in her blue eyes. "I was thinking of the pity 
 it was to raise his hopes for nothing." 
 
 "Then you did not mean what you said," he 
 muttered vexedly. They were walking down the 
 main road to the village. As they reached a com 
 manding elevation in the road they could see in the 
 distance the blue ocean, with its white-capped 
 waves, gleaming under the bright morning sun. 
 And on the other side were the cedars and ever 
 greens, with a touch of scarlet here and there 
 denoting the approaching autumn. 
 
 And there were spots of yellow in the green of the 
 fields where bunches of goldenrod were growing. 
 
 When they turned off the main road, to the post 
 office, they came in sight of the little cove, and 
 there, riding lightly at anchor, was Captain Her 
 bert Kenneth s boat the Pearl the "slickest" 
 thirty footer in Casco Bay. She stopped suddenly 
 and faced Nelson. Her eyes held a curious ex 
 pression. 
 
 249
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Under certain conditions ," she said, thought 
 fully, "I might consider 
 
 "Name them ," said Nelson, with determina 
 tion. 
 
 "Uncle Hagen told me that you were going to 
 enter a boat in the race next week ?" 
 
 "Sure ," he vowed. 
 
 "Well She paused, and blushed furiously. 
 
 "Well He watched her in silence. 
 
 "What is the name of of your boat ?" 
 
 "Bo-it," Nelson repeated, under his breath, and 
 smiled. 
 
 "The Irene ," he said, aloud. 
 
 She turned her head awa} r , and gazed at the 
 Pearl, gently tugging at her moorings then at 
 the sea beyond. 
 
 "The Pearl is a very fast boat ," she ventured, 
 dreamily. 
 
 "Oh there are others ," he replied, briskly. 
 
 There was a marked shade of annoyance in his 
 manner as he surveyed the graceful lines of the 
 sloop. 
 
 "Uncle Hagen thinks that she will win the 
 250
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 race ?" she said, with malice afterthought. But 
 her eyes were cast down so that he could not see 
 them. 
 
 "The captain has not seen the Irene, so his 
 opinion is only the merest guess," he contended. 
 
 "Then you think that the Irene will win ?" 
 Now, she was looking straight into his eyes, and 
 her eyes were dancing, dancing. 
 
 "Oh one is never sure, of course, there are 
 so many things that might happen ," he an 
 swered, carelessly. Then he tried to change the 
 subject. "But what are the certain conditions, 
 under which you suggested that you might con 
 sider my my " 
 
 "Oh yes !" she exclaimed, with sudden ani 
 mation. "But first, I wanted to know whether you 
 thought that is, which boat She stopped in 
 some confusion. 
 
 "I hope that you are not risking anything on 
 the result," he said solemnly "There is nothing 
 so uncertain as a boat race ; and besides, betting is 
 a vicious practice, and one that 
 
 He broke into a laugh as he saw her deep blue 
 251
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 eyes grow round, and open wide. For the moment 
 he had adopted the style in which he usually ad 
 dressed Anne. 
 
 "Oh you are joking ?" 
 
 She closed her curved lips tightly, and a tiny 
 wrinkle dimple appeared between her low, 
 straight brows. 
 
 "I was thinking of risking something," she re 
 marked, slowly. . . 
 
 "But, the conditions ?" he reminded her, a 
 trifle impatiently. Oh ! if he could only take her 
 in his arms, and carry her off as they did in the 
 olden times away from the island, away from 
 everybody, to a lodge in some vast wilderness ; to a 
 secure fastness, in the heart of a primeval forest ! 
 
 "Oh- the conditions " she repeated, with an 
 exasperating show of absent-mindedness. "I am 
 afraid that they involve a certain amount of 
 chance a wager, a practice that is What 
 did you say ? Oh yes, vicious." 
 
 They were walking around the head of the cove, 
 and up the sloping shore path, to the pines that 
 fringed the rocks. 
 
 252
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 It may have been chance, it may have been in 
 tention ; or it may have been the result of two 
 minds thinking the same thoughts, that directed 
 their footsteps to a secluded shady nook overlook 
 ing the sea. 
 
 One could scarcely imagine a more beautiful 
 spot. It was as if the hand of Nature had cun 
 ningly contrived an apartment, in mock imitation 
 of the puny efforts of man in his habitations. 
 There was a floor, of solid rock, covered an inch 
 deep with a soft dry moss of variegated colors ; it 
 yielded to the pressure of a foot like the deepest 
 plush carpet. The walls of this nature room con 
 sisted of thick-leaved pines, and cedars, closely 
 matted, and intermingling in glossy greens an 
 impenetrable screen, that grew from the crevices in 
 the rock to a height of a dozen feet. For a ceiling 
 there were overhanging limbs of larger trees, 
 gracefully outlined against an azure sky. In 
 front, without any intervening obstacle, was the 
 glorious prospect of the ocean; a view made more 
 satisfying to the senses by a light, salt-laden 
 breeze that blew gently towards the land. 
 253
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Hilda sat on a moss-covered ledge of rock, that 
 fitted this charming retreat, like a tufted couch 
 covered with Oriental draperies. "A perfect 
 day ," she said casually. 
 
 Nelson stood facing the sea, and was expanding 
 his lungs with its delicious breath. "A perfect day 
 but," he sat down beside her on the mossy ledge. 
 "You have not answered me," he persisted. 
 
 Her eyes narrowed in a dreamy reverie, as she 
 scanned the farthest horizon, where the pale blue 
 sky just touched the deeper blue of the water. 
 Perhaps she was thinking of her future, and of the 
 great world that lay beyond the horizon, beyond 
 the outermost islands that dotted her vision. How 
 many times in this very spot had she built her 
 castle? Her turreted structure of silver, and 
 gold, of glittering stones ; and the surrounding 
 gardens of flowers and foliage, the like of which 
 she had never seen, but only imagined. In the 
 gardens were fountains of sparkling water, and 
 mirror lakes on which were white swans that came 
 and fed from her hand. And when she had finished 
 her castle, she had placed as lord over it all a 
 254
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 princely youth, tall and dark, with kindly brown 
 eyes. Yes she was sure that he was tall and dark, 
 and that he had gentle brown eyes. And, when he 
 had gone on his knees before her, and had asked 
 her to become his own little wife, she had answered 
 with becoming modesty. When piff ! Away 
 went her castle, like the down of a thistle, and she 
 was back again, in the little white cottage with 
 Uncle Hagen. 
 
 She must have been thinking of him, for she 
 asked Nelson : 
 
 "What did my uncle say, when when you told 
 him?" 
 
 "Say ?" He came slowly out of his reverie. 
 
 "He said that He paused for a moment, and 
 smiled, at the recollection. 
 
 "Well ?" She held her face slightly averted. 
 
 "You know that the captain never wastes 
 words ?" he explained. 
 
 She nodded her head bending low, before him. 
 She had never appeared, to him, more beautiful. 
 
 "He said Nelson continued slowly, "that if 
 you loved me, and if I loved you, that was 
 255
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 enough. He said that there was nothing else 
 worth considering." 
 
 "Oh but there is " she interrupted, laughing. 
 
 "Yes what is it?" 
 
 "Well there are the conditions, you know." 
 She was still laughing at his evident impatience. 
 
 "Please name them " he implored. 
 
 She settled herself, comfortably, on the ledge, 
 leaned back, folded her hands, and half closing 
 her eyes she watched him through her dark lashes. 
 
 "Well in the first place she began, very 
 deliberately, "the Irene must win the race." 
 
 "Oh!" he sighed his relief. "She ll win all 
 right." 
 
 "Then if the Irene should win " She paused 
 with even more deliberation. 
 
 "Then " She stopped, and hung her head. 
 
 "Well ?" He moved closer to her, on the 
 moss-covered ledge. He tried to catch her veiled, 
 downcast eyes. 
 
 "I might, consider " 
 
 256
 
 THE village post office was a square, two- 
 storied, frame building, the first floor room 
 of which was a combination of post office 
 and country store. There was a counter running 
 around two sides of the room, and on the shelves, 
 behind it, was a motley collection of merchandise 
 that included everything from a stick of candy to 
 a suit of clothes. 
 
 Tacked to the wall was a notice of reward for 
 the arrest and conviction of a defaulting govern 
 ment official ; side by side with a notice which 
 stated that the Bishop would preach on a certain 
 date long past. On the counter was another 
 warning- politely worded intimating that gen 
 tlemen would not use the counter as a settee. 
 
 Before leaving New York, Nelson had instructed 
 the clerk at the Luxmorc to forward his letters, 
 under cover, to William Collins. So, when he en- 
 257
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 quired at the post office he was handed a bulky 
 envelope enclosing several letters. Among them 
 was one from Lighthall. It was long, and closely 
 written, and Nelson decided, after glancing at the 
 signature, to go down on the end of the wharf and 
 read it leisurely. 
 
 As the letter explains certain events that hap 
 pened, I have decided to transcribe its contents. 
 It read: 
 
 Dear Nelson : 
 
 I am sorry that I did not see you be 
 fore I came back to the "Oaks" as I 
 wanted to tell you of a curious happen 
 ing by which I accidentally heard of 
 your little affair with a beautiful island 
 maid. Miss Conrad knows about it also 
 but that comes later. You are aware, 
 no doubt, that in my serious days I 
 studied law, was admitted to the bar, 
 and have had the honor of paying half 
 the expenses of an office, in which my 
 partner does all the work. Well I hap 
 pened to be there the other day, and 
 258
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 overheard a young fellow in our employ, 
 by the name of Wyse, relating a very 
 circumstantial account of a certain mil 
 lionaire, named Nelson Thomas, who was 
 masquerading on Orr s Island under the 
 assumed name of William Collins. I 
 gathered further that the young lady in 
 the case is a fisherman s daughter by the 
 name of Brunhilda I ve forgotten her 
 last name, but she is a great friend of 
 our young man s sister. 
 
 I thought that the story was interest 
 ing enough to tell to Miss Conrad but 
 somehow she seems to take the matter 
 seriously says she hopes that you won t 
 make a fool of yourself her own words 
 and insists that I should use my influ 
 ence with you in the matter. So this 
 letter is the result ; because I promised 
 that I would write, and also because she 
 seems to have taken a sudden, and re 
 newed interest in our my proposal. 
 
 I am depending on your advice, to 
 259
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 leave it to her, but do you think it is 
 safe ? She might accept unexpect 
 edly. By the way, your aunt was not in 
 the humor to appreciate the story, 
 either. She made some slighting remarks 
 about Mackerel Cove which I did not 
 understand. When are you coming 
 up ? We have quite a bunch of new 
 arrivals. It s warm for golf but it 
 must be hot in New York. Shake it, and 
 come up You think it is all right, do 
 you ? To leave it to her. 
 Yours, 
 
 Lighthall. 
 
 260
 
 VI 
 
 THERE was another letter, written about 
 this time, a letter which I have read, but 
 the contents of which, seem to me, are so 
 personal, that I hesitate about giving it publicity. 
 It was from Hilda to her friend Grace in Port 
 land. 
 
 I will make a few excerpts : 
 
 "You were right. He came to Orr s 
 
 Island almost as soon as I did 
 
 and the funniest thing, I knew that he was 
 coming almost to the minute and 
 went out to meet him, at ten o clock at 
 night! I know that you will be dread 
 fully shocked yes I have 
 
 loved him all my life .... ever 
 since the beginning .... laugh 
 if you must, but for heaven s sake don t 
 show this to John. Burn it. ... 
 261
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Herbert worries me, he is so stupid, and 
 just won t see he bragged so about his 
 boat that I got angry and told him that 
 Mr. Collins could beat him. My but he 
 
 was excited If he can, I m 
 
 done he said. So Nelson is going to 
 
 beat him Oh Grace I am 
 
 so happy 
 
 Lovingly, 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 262
 
 VII 
 
 3N east wind blew, and fitful drops of rain 
 splashed against the cottage windows ; it 
 promised to be a dismal day. 
 Nelson threw down his book, and wandered, aim 
 lessly, around the sitting room, peering through 
 the panes at the dull low skies; the sea had lost its 
 sparkling action, and lay motionless, sullen, under 
 the drifting mist and clouds. 
 
 "If it would only clear he said, dolefully. 
 And then "what s keeping her, anyway ?" he 
 asked himself, for the fourth or was it the 
 fortieth time, as he opened the front door, looked 
 down the lane, and closed it again. 
 
 He paced back and forth, in increasing impa 
 tience. He went to the fireplace, and gazed long 
 and curiously at the bony protuberance of a 
 sword fish, that hung on the wall, embalmed in a 
 glass covered, velvet lined, casket. He examined, 
 263
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 with unconscious minuteness, the Hindo idol that 
 was squatting on the mantel in juxtaposition with 
 a short-skirted maiden of Dresden china. He 
 went to the captain s little shelf of books, and took 
 out aimlessly : "Plutarchs Lives" "Keith s Proph 
 ecies" "The Pearl of Orr s Island" and an 
 old copy of "The Mariners Guide," and shoved 
 them back into place, with an air of peevishness. 
 
 Then he threw open the door, and again looked 
 down the lane. 
 
 "Ah" 
 
 Hilda was coming. 
 
 She had a bundle under each arm, and the wind 
 was blowing stray locks of hair about her face, and 
 reddening her glowing cheeks to a most bewitch 
 ing crimson. 
 
 Nelson stood in the open doorway in silent ad 
 miration of the supple lines of her lithe, pliant, 
 young body ; as she bent her head, against the 
 wind, with determined resistance. 
 
 "What a time I ve had " she said, breathless 
 with her rapid walk. "I had to go all the way to 
 The Point and the wind was so rough " 
 264
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 She deposited her bundles on the nearest chair, 
 and smiled at him, radiantly, through a misty 
 filigree of golden, stray, locks. 
 
 "That need not have taken you two months " 
 he said complainingly. 
 
 Hilda removed her hat, and jabbed a long, dirk- 
 like pin clear through it. 
 
 "Two months ?" She looked puzzled. 
 
 He took out his watch, and covered its face. 
 
 "Well you left here, one morning, at nine 
 o clock, and now it s it s 
 
 "Ten-thirty," she finished. "I can see the clock 
 in the kitchen." 
 
 "Ten-thirty ?" repeated Nelson as one cast 
 ing doubt on another s statement. "Well that 
 would be exactly seven weeks ; six days ; twenty- 
 three and one-half hours, since you left me. 
 
 A light gleamed in her eyes, a light that turned 
 his head. "Gracious !" she laughed, merrily. 
 "Has it been as long as that ?" 
 
 "Every moment," he asserted, solemnly. 
 
 "And what have you been doing all that 
 time ?" she inquired, gaily. 
 265
 
 BRUNHILD A OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 There was an air of briskness, of animation, 
 about her as she moved around the little room ; 
 picking up this, arranging that ; and all the time 
 carrying on the conversation. 
 
 She was full of verve, spirit, life. 
 
 His eyes followed her with increasing admira 
 tion. He moved to her side hoping to take her 
 unawares as she picked up her bundles. "If you 
 can stand still a moment, I ll tell you " he 
 said, while his eyes devoured her. 
 
 She, dextrously, put the table between them. 
 
 "You ll have no dinner she informed him, 
 "if I wait much longer." 
 
 "I don t want any dinner," said he. "I have 
 dinner every day, but your Uncle Hagen isn t 
 always out fishing 
 
 Her face clouded with anxiety, as she glanced 
 through the window at the gray, drifting clouds. 
 
 "He should not have gone to-day," she said. 
 
 "I mean that we are not always alone," he en 
 lightened her. 
 
 "Oh She was edging towards the kitchen 
 with her bundles. 
 
 266
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "And I have been hunting up your pedigree," 
 he said, as she disappeared. "I want to read it to 
 you." 
 
 He picked up the volume that he had been read 
 ing, and followed her into the kitchen. Hilda s 
 kitchen with an air about it, that rainy morning, 
 that was most enticing. The kettle was simmering 
 cheerfully on a stove that was polished to a re 
 flecting blackness ; cherry segments of brightness 
 from the live coals within shone through the 
 half-opened lids, and were mirrored on the white 
 ceiling. The little clock on the mantle was tick 
 ing, sociably. 
 
 Then, there was Hilda still clinging to her 
 bundles, laughing at him, as he appeared in the 
 doorway. 
 
 "Oh you can t come here " she remonstrated. 
 
 "I am here he affirmed, conclusively, as he 
 sat down, comfortably, on a chair near the window. 
 
 "But how am I to work ?" she chided. 
 And all the time she was doing things ; opening 
 drafts in the stove ; straightening the white dim 
 ity curtains ; opening her bundles ; flitting around, 
 267
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 and hovering over him, with that inexpressible 
 charm, that ineffable tenderness that belongs to 
 women some women alone. 
 
 "Oh I can read to you while you are work 
 ing," he said, as he opened his book and began : 
 
 "One time there was much talk at Brattahlid, to 
 the effect that Wineland the Good should be ex 
 plored, for it was said that country must be pos 
 sessed of many goodly qualities. And so it came to 
 pass that Karlsefni and Snorri fitted out their 
 ship, for the purpose of going in search of that 
 country in the spring. They had in all one hun 
 dred and sixty men, when they sailed to the west 
 ern settlement. They sailed southward along the 
 land for a long time, and came to a cape ; the land 
 lay upon the starboard ; there were long strands 
 and sandy banks there. They rowed to the land. 
 Then the country became indented with bays, and 
 they steered their ships into a bay. 
 
 "It was when Leif was with King Olaf Tryggva- 
 
 son, and he bade him proclaim Christianity to 
 
 Greenland, that the king gave him two Gaels ; the 
 
 man s name was Haki, and the woman s, Hakia. 
 
 268
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 The king advised Leif to have recourse to these 
 people, if they should stand in need of fleetness, 
 for they were swifter than deer. 
 
 "Eric and Leif had tendered Karlsefni the serv 
 ices of this couple. 
 
 "Now when they had sailed past Wonder- 
 strands, they put the Gaels ashore, and directed 
 them to run to the southward, and investigate the 
 nature of the country, and return again before the 
 end of the third half day. Karlsefni and his com 
 panions cast anchor, and lay there during their 
 absence ; and when they came again, one of them 
 carried a bunch of grapes, and the other an ear 
 of new sown wheat. They went on board the ship, 
 whereupon Karlsefni and his followers held on their 
 way, until they came to where the coast was in 
 dented with bays. 
 
 "They stood into the bay with their ships." 
 
 Nelson stopped for a moment, as if to emphasize 
 what followed: 
 
 "There was an island out in the mouth of the 
 bay, about which there were strong currents. 
 This they called Orr s Island, because they " 
 269
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Nonsense interrupted Hilda. 
 
 "Oh you were listening ?" he said. 
 
 "You seemed to be so busy about everything 
 else. I thought perhaps you were not paying at 
 tention to my story of the Norsemen. 
 
 He seemed to be so earnest, so serious in his re 
 marks, that she gave him more attention. She sat 
 down on her low rocker, beside the other window, 
 and dropped her chin into her hands. 
 
 "Why do you suppose that I am a descendant 
 of those Norsemen ?" she inquired. 
 
 "Well your appearance and then your fam 
 ily names. Gunther is an old Norse name it s in 
 the Nibelungenlied- so is Brunhild, and Hagen ; 
 and your father s name, Etzel oh, I m sure of 
 it." He put down his book, and stared at her 
 fixedly. "Then there is a certain facial mark that 
 is peculiar to all of your ancestors," he added. 
 
 Her curiosity was aroused. 
 
 "Yes and what may that be ?" 
 
 He arose and went to her. "If you will turn, 
 your face a little more towards the light," he said, 
 in a very matter-of-fact way, "I ll look for it." 
 270
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 She turned, half smiling, and faced the window. 
 Pie watched the effect of the full white light of the 
 sunless sky upon her face, with its encircling halo 
 of golden hair. He bent over her and carefully ex 
 amined cvcfcy line of her features. 
 
 "It is usually under the point of the chin," he 
 said gravely. "If you could lift it a trifle 
 more ?" He bent lower. 
 
 Up tilted the soft, rounded chin. 
 
 "There ," he said, and 
 
 A man s temptation is the measure of his 
 strength. Her trusting eyes were resting in his. 
 A smile was lurking in the corners of her mouth. 
 He inhaled the fragrance of her hair. He held her 
 chin in his hand, and kissed her lips, her cheeks, her 
 eyes, almost before she was aware of his inten 
 tions 
 
 When Captain Gunther returned from his fish 
 ing, several minutes later, he found Hilda alone in 
 the kitchen. Her cheeks were scarlet, and her 
 wealth of hair looked as though it was about to fall 
 over her shoulders. 
 
 271
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 He peered into the sitting room, and saw Nelson 
 busily engaged over his book, apparently oblivious 
 to his surroundings. 
 
 "He seems kind of lonesome ," Uncle Hagen 
 remarked in an undertone to Hilda. "You had 
 better take him out for a walk or cheer him up 
 a bit." 
 
 272
 
 VIII 
 
 PILDA was seated in her favorite nook, over 
 looking the sea. The day was bright, and 
 the sun s rays were soft and warm. Over 
 head, in the spreading branches of the trees, there 
 was a slight rustling noise that attracted her at 
 tention ; looking up she saw the bright eyes of a 
 chipmunk peering at her curiously. As she moved 
 incautiously, to obtain a better view of the little 
 fellow, he took a sudden fright and scampered off 
 in a wild, chattering panic. She watched him 
 darting from limb to limb of the interlacing 
 branches, until he was lost to sight. 
 
 "Why, chippie you foolish fellow ," she 
 chided; "to treat an old friend like that ?" She 
 stepped lightly on the velvety moss, with one hand 
 extended, and uttered a peculiar little chirp. But 
 chippie was gone for the day. 
 
 There were birds, yellow and black; and some 
 273
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 were red and blue, twittering, singing, flying from 
 tree to tree ; and the bank sloping below her feet 
 was alive with grasshoppers, irresponsible things, 
 jumping up in the air and landing, aimlessly, any 
 where for the mere fun of it. 
 
 And the air was ineffably pure and delicious, and 
 fresh with the smell of moist leaf mould, mingled 
 with the aromatic pines. Hilda was in a dreamy 
 state of mind, thinking over the rapid march of 
 events that had come upon her, and that had 
 changed the current of her life in so short a time. 
 She remembered the years of her childhood, passed 
 in happy contentment on her beautiful island, and 
 she experienced a strange sense of foreboding of 
 unhappiness in the thought that this love, that 
 had come to her unsought, unbidden, might mean 
 the loss of many things of the dear island. She 
 gazed wistfully out to sea, and she thought, with 
 a tremor of uneasiness, of the great world beyond 
 her vision, a world of which she knew so little. 
 
 And she thought of Uncle Hagen. What would 
 become of him ? Who would keep his little house 
 274
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 in order, and prepare his meals ; he was getting 
 old, although he would not admit it; who would 
 read to him, care for him ? 
 
 And the winter evenings were so long. She 
 started from her reverie resolved, determined. 
 
 "Oh I cannot, I must not leave him." .... 
 
 And then, as she scanned the horizon, a white sail 
 glided around the point of a distant island ; a tiny 
 patch of white against a background of blues and 
 greens. As it came closer in shore her practised 
 eye discovered that it was a sloop of marvelously 
 proportioned beauty; a boat that skimmed the 
 sea like a water fowl. It glided, rose and fell, and 
 glittered in the sun-tipped waves like a thing of 
 joyous life. She watched with keen interest its 
 circling flight, its graceful poise, as it swept along 
 a straight course ; how close it could point into the 
 wind, how ably it was handled. And then she 
 held her breath as she saw the gracile craft head 
 ing recklessly for the ragged ledge that she knew 
 lay half submerged just ahead ! 
 
 She craned her neck in the effort to look over the 
 rocks in front of her. 
 
 275
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 The boat was under full headway, her broad sail 
 filling in a freshening breeze, astern. Hilda saw a 
 man at the tiller ; his head and neck bare, his face 
 upturned towards her. He must be a stranger, 
 and one who did not know that there was no chan 
 nel, excepting at extreme high tide, between that 
 jutting, visible rock and the mainland. Then, as 
 the boat seemed to fly towards the rock, with its 
 careless skipper staring at the shore, she sprang to 
 the edge of the water and waved her handkerchief. 
 And as the boat came on nearer nearer, she 
 lifted up her clear, young voice : 
 
 "About about g-o a-b-o-u-t !" 
 
 She shouted, she screamed, she gesticulated and 
 waved her hands, furiously. 
 
 The man at the tiller laughed, waved his hand, 
 nodded his head, 
 
 Then just as the moment had arrived when she 
 felt that the next would reveal a quivering mass 
 of wreckage, of broken mast and entangling rig 
 ging at that very instant of time, the laughing 
 stranger eased his sail and came about with the 
 rock on his port-side not a dozen yards away. 
 276
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Oh it was masterly. It was finely done ; and 
 with such adroitness, such skill, such confidence in 
 his ability, such a laughing assurance, that Hilda 
 drawing a long breath stood thrilled with sur 
 prise and admiration. And she clapped her 
 hands, like a child, and waved frantically after the 
 receding boat, as she saw the name in distinct 
 black letters across the stern: 
 IRENE 
 
 Then she recognized in the handsome laughing 
 skipper the person of Nelson Thomas. 
 
 277
 
 IX 
 
 UNCLE HAGEN was mending his nets. From 
 where he had cast them he could see the 
 cove and much of the sea beyond. From 
 time to time he would stop his work and look out 
 over the water, until his eye caught a white sail 
 that was flying hither and yon over its surface. 
 Then a peculiar smile would play over his features 
 as he bent his head and resumed his work. 
 
 Up the lane came Herbert Kenneth and Hilda. 
 The latter quickly disappeared into the cottage, 
 and Herbert sauntered over to the field where the 
 captain was working. Throwing himself lazily 
 on the grass beside the nets, he picked up a bit 
 of wood and began whittling with his knife. 
 
 "Well Herbert," said the old man, without 
 stopping his work, "what did you get ?" 
 "Cod " said Herbert shortly. 
 "All?" 
 
 278
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORE S ISLAND 
 
 "Mostly." 
 
 "The rc running pretty good," said Uncle 
 Hagcn, cheerfully. 
 
 "Fair" 
 
 Uncle Hagen tied a knot in the twine and looked 
 up. Herbert was not a man to talk, but there was 
 usually more in him than single words. As he 
 glanced at the other s face he noticed that it wore 
 an angry, an irritable expression. He also noticed 
 that Herbert was watching the white sail as it flit 
 ted back and forth on the sparkling water. There 
 was something about that particular white sail that 
 distinguished it from all others. 
 
 "His boat " said Herbert, while his eyes roved 
 restlessly from the cottage to the sea and back. 
 
 "Mr. Collins boat the Irene " assented Uncle 
 Hagen carelessly. 
 
 Herbert threw away the stick and closed his 
 knife with a loud snap. "Who is this Collins 
 anyway?" He looked over in the direction of the 
 cottage, with something akin to a scowl on his face. 
 
 "Oh he s an innocent kind of man," said Uncle 
 Hagen, kindly. 
 
 279
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "He s hangin around a good deal since since 
 he first come," said Herbert. 
 
 "Its a free country " remarked Uncle Hagen, 
 as he twisted his twine in and out of the meshes. 
 
 "T aint nothing but a skimming dish " said 
 Herbert as his eyes followed the white sail on the 
 horizon. 
 
 "She points up pretty close, nevertheless " 
 said Uncle Hagen, as he paused for a while in his 
 work. "I should say that she d be good in any 
 kind of weather." 
 
 "Good as the Lucy ?" inquired Herbert. 
 
 It was a home thrust: the Lucy was Uncle 
 Hagen s boat. He had never been known to admit 
 that there was any thirty-footer afloat that was the 
 equal to the Lucy. 
 
 "There ain t nothing can touch the Lucy" as 
 serted the captain, confidently. 
 
 "Exceptin the Pearl " argued Herbert. 
 
 "Excepting nothin " retorted the captain. 
 
 Uncle Hagen tossed over the net, stretched it 
 out, examined it closely, and all the time he was 
 humming a tune or whistling. 
 280
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Herbert sat in silence. Off shore the wind was 
 freshening, and the little white caps were gleaming 
 in the sun. The ledge at his feet was a mass of 
 color of grays and greens, with bright dabs of 
 scarlet. His eye rested indifferently on its ex 
 quisite beauty. "What does he do for a livin , 
 anyway ?" he asked. 
 
 "I don t just exactly know answered the 
 captain slowly. "He writes books for one thing " 
 
 "Ump ! A writer, eh There was condensed 
 pity in his expression. "I once had an aunt that 
 done writing 
 
 Uncle Hagen thought for a moment. "Yes I 
 remember Henrietta 
 
 "Well she never made a cent by it " Herbert 
 affirmed. 
 
 "That s right" assented Uncle Hagen. "But 
 there are some " 
 
 "Well who, now just mention them " Her 
 bert demanded. 
 
 The captain studied for a while: "I was read 
 ing about them the other evening, in Facts for 
 the Curious " He paused. 
 281
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Herbert made an impatient movement. "Well 
 go ahead " he insisted. 
 
 The captain was nettled. 
 
 "Well there was Shakespeare ; he got twenty- 
 five dollars for writing Hamlet. And Milton got 
 thirty dollars for Paradise Lost. 
 
 Herbert looked as though he did not believe it, 
 smiling incredulously. He waved his hand in scorn 
 "That s two," he finally agreed. "What s 
 that" 
 
 The captain cudgeled his brains. "There s 
 another one too if I could only remember Gold 
 berg Goldsmith that s the man." 
 
 "Well what did he make?" said Herbert. 
 
 The captain reflected. 
 
 "Three hundred dollars it was, for The Vicar 
 of Wakefield. " 
 
 "Three hundred?" 
 
 The captain nodded his head. "Yep nd it s 
 worth it too Did you ever read it Herbert?" 
 
 "No" said Herbert, indifferently. "What is 
 a vick-er?" 
 
 The captain assumed a lofty air. 
 282
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "A vicar is a kind of a preacher. He had an 
 uncommon run of bad luck for himself and 
 family, and more particularly his daughter; she 
 was always in trouble. He was just like a man 
 tryin to sail a leaky boat, in a rough sea, and 
 rotten riggin ther was nothin he could take 
 hold of." 
 
 "Drowned ?" said Herbert, absently. 
 
 The captain shook his head. "No he made 
 port all right it comes out all right in the end." 
 Again he turned the net. 
 
 "How big a book is it ?" asked Herbert, as he 
 helped the captain to unravel the tangles. He was 
 becoming interested. 
 
 "The captain enclosed a space with his hands. 
 "So big about as big as a second reader," he 
 said. 
 
 "And he made three hundred dollars on it ?" 
 Herbert repeated. 
 
 "Yep That s straight." 
 
 The captain nodded, affirmatively. 
 
 Herbert jerked his head sidewise towards the 
 cottage. "Is he a doin any writing now ?" His 
 283
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 tone of voice was not nearly so contemptuous as 
 before. 
 
 "Yes he s writing a book now 
 
 "What s it called?" 
 
 "I don t just know the name of it," answered 
 the captain, thoughtfully. "Hilda knows I think 
 it s something like The Mashers ." 
 
 "Humph !" Herbert grunted his disapproval 
 of the title. "What does he think he ll get for 
 that?" 
 
 The captain was absorbed in contemplation of a 
 large hole in his net. "Must have been a sword- 
 fish went through there," he muttered. He 
 whistled a bar or two of an old Baptist hymn and 
 came back naturally without any undue haste 
 to the subject of the conversation. "I dunno as 
 he told me that " he said. 
 
 Herbert looked to the south, and his practiced 
 eye located the Irene heading out to sea. He got 
 on his feet, stretched his large muscles, yawned, 
 and sauntered over to the cottage. The idea had 
 occurred to him that it was a good opportunity 
 to talk to Hilda. 
 
 284
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 He found her busily engaged in her kitchen ; so 
 engrossed in her work that, apparently, she did not 
 observe him as he stood in the doorway. 
 
 He heaved a sigh. 
 
 "Gracious !" she exclaimed, with an unusual 
 show of alarm, "you scared me dreadfully." She 
 turned her back to him and went about her work. 
 
 He sidled into the room without an invitation 
 and sat on the edge of a chair near the table. 
 He kept his hat on his head, and wore a confident 
 smile on his broad face as his eyes followed her 
 around the room. "I m always a scarin you 
 lately," he complained. "What makes you so 
 skeery ?" 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders impatiently. 
 
 "Oh nothing that I know of " she said. 
 
 He sat and stared at her for several minutes 
 without saying a word. Then he began : 
 
 "Hilda " Again he lapsed into silence. She 
 wanted to talk to say something but there was 
 absolutely nothing in common between them ; she 
 had nothing to say. "I ve about made up my 
 mind to get married," he finally told her. Then 
 285
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 he paused to note the effect of his important deci 
 sion. 
 
 "Yes The rising inflection in her voice indi 
 cated more surprise than interest. 
 
 "And who do you think she is ?" He stared 
 into her eyes, with an expression on his face that 
 made her shiver. 
 
 "She ?" If Uncle Hagen would only come. 
 
 "Um He crossed his legs and held his knee 
 in his clasped hands. And all the time he followed 
 her movements with a hungry look as though he 
 wanted to eat her. 
 
 "I haven t an idea " she said. 
 
 "Oh you haven t an idea," he repeated. And 
 he tried to mimic the tones of her sweet voice 
 with most distressing playfulness. 
 
 There was another long silence. 
 
 "Her last name begins with a G he insin 
 uated, encouragingly. 
 
 She thought that she must scream at the top of 
 
 her lungs if he went on much longer. She knew 
 
 exactly the estimation in which he held himself. 
 
 For years he had been the recipient of undisguised 
 
 286
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 admiration from the women of Orr s Island a 
 large majority of them with the result that he 
 regarded himself as practically invincible. 
 
 She busied herself more industriously than 
 before 
 
 "G-u-n-t-h-e-r." He spelled the name slowly, 
 leering at her between each letter. "Now do you 
 know?" 
 
 By a peculiar inconsistency of his nature it was 
 Hilda, who had never given him any encourage 
 ment, whom he most admired. Her friendly man 
 ner towards him had been maintained for a long 
 time because of her indifference. It was Hilda, 
 who cared nothing for him, whom he liked the best 
 of all. 
 
 "I guess you knew all the time ," he said, ten 
 derly, as he arose from his chair. "You were just 
 lettin on about bein so skeered ?" He was ad 
 vancing towards her, with an evident intention of 
 purpose that alarmed her 
 
 And Uncle Hagen, out in the field, singing 
 hymn tunes over his nets 
 
 "I m a goin to kiss you right now," he in- 
 287
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 formed her. He raised his heavy muscular arms 
 and attempted to catch her as she passed him. 
 She evaded him. 
 
 "Herbert !" she commanded, desperately, 
 "don t dare !" She stamped her foot ; her eyes 
 blazed. Then the door slammed in his face with 
 a loud bang, shutting from his ardent gaze a fleet 
 ing vision of checked-gingham loveliness. 
 
 Out on the ledge, Uncle Hagen was passing the 
 twine in and out, and across the hole in his net 
 where a swordfish must have gone through. And 
 as he worked he hummed: 
 
 "From Greenland s i-cee moun-tin 
 
 From In-jus cor-rell stra-and, 
 Where Afr-ricks sun-ee " 
 
 When Hilda suddenly appeared. 
 
 Her face was flushed ; her hair dishevelled, and 
 she was breathless from running. 
 
 He looked at her critically. 
 
 "Mouse in the kitchen ?" he queried. 
 
 "No o She sat down beside him, with a 
 little sigh of relief. "I just ran over to ask what 
 time we ll have dinner." 
 
 288
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "You ran pretty hard, too didn t you ?" 
 He looked at her face, and then towards the sea. 
 "Collins has made the turn ," he remarked, 
 casually. "Guess we might as well wait for him." 
 He pulled out a heavy, open-faced, silver watch. 
 "Why, it s only eleven o clock ," he informed 
 her. "Ain t you hurrying things a little ?" 
 
 Apparently she did not hear him, for she made 
 no reply, but sat with her eyes fastened on the 
 white sail that was approaching the land. 
 
 "Do you think he will win ?" she asked, 
 dreamily. 
 
 Uncle Hagen regarded her affectionately, his 
 good-natured face beaming with intelligence. "I 
 think he will ," he assured her. 
 
 289
 
 a GREAT deal of talk about the boat race at 
 Orr s Island had resulted in but few entries. 
 The season was nearly over, and most of the 
 summer fleet had departed for Southern waters, 
 or had gone out of commission. A few Portland 
 skippers nursing old rivalries with the islanders 
 having first announced their willingness to try 
 conclusions with the challenging boats, had all 
 withdrawn from the contest. 
 
 So that there remained on the morning of the 
 race a morning that dawned bright and favor 
 able but three boats that were ready and eager 
 to make the course. 
 
 These were the Lucy, owned by Captain Hagen 
 Gunther ; the Pearl, belonging to Captain Herbert 
 Kenneth, and the Irene a sort of mystery boat 
 that had arrived off Prince s Point in the night, 
 and had been claimed the following morning by 
 290
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 Mr. William Collins old man Gunther s summer 
 boarder. 
 
 Of the respective sailing qualities of the Pearl 
 and Lucy there was nothing new to be said. These 
 boats had long been rivals, and the village was 
 about equally divided with their enthusiastic de 
 fenders. They had frequently raced, and with 
 varying results. Sometimes the Pearl, with a load 
 of lobsters, would get to Portland ahead of the 
 Lucy; and then the latter would arrive at the mar 
 ket, and have the lobsters disposed of before the 
 Pearl had reached the dock. But the beaten cap 
 tain always had so many plausible reasons for his 
 defeat that the consensus of opinions was still 
 about evenly divided. It was, therefore, a matter 
 of considerable interest, this bright September 
 morning, as to which of the boats would win. This 
 interest had increased when the Irene had arrived, 
 and when it became known that she would be sailed 
 by the owner. 
 
 Small boats, of all kinds and description, but 
 principally motor boats, flitted around the harbor 
 as the time drew nigh for the race. Light clouds 
 291
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 were scudding across the sky, and there was a 
 fresh northeast wind blowing that made the white- 
 caps dance on the surface of the sea. 
 
 The course that had been agreed upon was 
 triangular a rock or small island marking each 
 corner and measured, roughly, a trifle over 
 twenty miles. 
 
 When the big motor boat, the Neptune, left the 
 dock about ten o clock, with the committee, con 
 sisting of old Abner Brown, Ebcn Hartsell and 
 Jeff Burlap, all old sea captains on board, the 
 wind was freshening considerably ; and many dubi 
 ous remarks were made by the spectators, as they 
 saw the big sail carried by the frail-looking Irene. 
 Each racing boat was manned by a skipper and 
 mate; and Nelson had for his companion a broad- 
 shouldered, weather-beaten fellow, who wore a 
 striking resemblance to Bill the mate of the yacht 
 Phyllis. It is possible that it was Bill, as the Phyllis 
 was but, that s another matter, and one that will 
 evolve later. 
 
 In Nelson s case there was a great deal more at 
 stake than the mere gratification of beating his 
 292
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 opponents. Hilda had insisted that he must win 
 the race, if he expected to receive a favorable 
 reply to his offer of marriage: and he was de 
 termined to win or well there was no alterna 
 tive. He must win. Hilda had insisted. 
 
 In Herbert s circumstances there existed, also, a 
 compelling reason why the Pearl must come in 
 ahead. In reply to his insistent assertions that 
 Collins knew nothing about sailing, and that the 
 Irene was only a play boat, she had retorted in 
 such unmistakable terms, that he knew a defeat for 
 the Pearl meant a slim chance for him in his hope 
 of winning her favor. 
 
 In Captain Hagen Gunther s mind there was 
 his deeply rooted conviction that the Lucy could 
 beat anything in her class if she was properly 
 handled: and he intended to prove it. 
 
 As the racing boats were maneuvering for posi 
 tion the preparatory signal was given to start in 
 fifteen minutes. At the expiration of that time 
 the three boats came to the line as the start was 
 given. 
 
 The Pearl led across, with the Lucy next, and 
 293
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 the Irene last; all heading out to sea. Nelson 
 tacked as soon as he was sure of the start, and 
 began looking around for the breeze that he re 
 membered was almost sure to follow a certain 
 course off shore. 
 
 The Pearl and the Lucy, ignoring such particu 
 lars, kept close together on a straight course. 
 
 That Nelson was right about the off-shore breeze 
 was proved as the Irene, on her next tack, came 
 on ahead, crossing the bows of the other boats. 
 She was soon showing the way to the first mark, 
 where she turned three minutes ahead of the Pearl, 
 and five minutes ahead of the Lucy. As she turned 
 the mark the sea was heavy, and the strong north 
 east wind was shifting to easterly. 
 
 Nelson glanced aloft, and then along the deck 
 of the Irene with as much nonchalance and indif 
 ference, as though he and the mate were taking a 
 pleasure sail, with a clam bake in prospect. 
 
 "If there was any money on this race," he re 
 marked, quietly, to the mate, "I d be ashamed to 
 take it. Will you please observe the way she 
 carries herself !" 
 
 294
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 The mate grinned approvingly. 
 
 "She s a bird that s a fact," he agreed. Then 
 he glanced aft, carelessly. "If them backstays 
 don t pull thro th deck," he added 
 
 On the second leg of the course the Pearl gained 
 considerably, and Captain Kenneth made a des 
 perate effort to force a way between the Irene and 
 the mark. 
 
 He was risking a bad foul. 
 
 But, on board the Irene the mate only chewed 
 his tobacco more vigorously, and kept an eye on 
 the backstays where the strains of the rig con 
 centrated. He had implicit faith in his skipper 
 he was not so sure of that eyebolt. 
 
 Nelson almost laughed aloud as he watched the 
 Pearl then he swept around the mark with the 
 Irene tipping the waves like a great sea gull. 
 
 "What do you think of that ?" exclaimed Nel 
 son, indignantly, as the Pearl without altering 
 her course a point kept steadily on her way, 
 determined, evidently, to cross the bow of the 
 Irene. 
 
 The boats were so close together that Nelson 
 295
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 could sec the white face of Kenneth, tense, drawn 
 with a desperate look of dogged resolution, that 
 indicated a man who was determined to have his 
 way at any cost. 
 
 As the boats flew along their converging routes, 
 drawing rapidly more closely together, Nelson 
 could see the square set jaw of Captain Kenneth 
 outlined against the bulging white sail of the 
 Pearl; and his heart quickened with nervous excite 
 ment as the truth suddenly became manifest, that 
 he was taking chances with a man who was beside 
 himself with rage. A man who would deliberately 
 foul the Irene if she came in his way ! 
 
 The mate glanced quickly at the Pearl; at her 
 bulk, as she loomed closer; at her great sail, and 
 massivencss, as compared with the buoyant light 
 ness of the Irene and then at his particular con 
 cern, the stay bolts. He measured with a prac 
 ticed eye the blue water between the boats, and 
 nodded approvingly as he caught the flaming dark 
 eyes of his skipper. 
 
 "You can do it ," he said, understandingly. 
 But he kicked oir his shoes, and took another 
 296
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 hole in the buckle of his belt he was ready for 
 the crash. 
 
 It was a reckless chance, a wild daring without 
 thought or reason, that prompted Nelson to meet 
 his rival on his own terms ; to continue his course 
 and cross the bow of the Pearl or to foul her. 
 
 Perhaps he did think ? Peradventure he also 
 reasoned with himself as he recalled Hilda, leaning 
 comfortably on the mossy ledge ; her hands folded ; 
 her half closed eyes watching him through her 
 dark lashes. He may have heard her voice singing 
 in his ears: "The Irene must win the race ?" 
 His brown eyes opened wider, with eager courage, 
 as he held his boat straight on her course. The 
 easterly wind was blowing half a gale. The great 
 spread of white canvas bellied firm and stiff as a 
 board, with rigging taut as fiddle strings. The 
 two skippers, sitting grimly in their boats, drew 
 together like knights of old as they charged with 
 lances set. Or, like Indians, in their war canoes. 
 Neither shouted a warning; neither altered his 
 course a hair s breadth. 
 
 297
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 There was not fifty feet between them not ten 
 feet. Another second, and 
 
 The mate dropped to his full length along the 
 deck motionless. 
 
 Nelson held his breath 
 
 Like the flight of an arrow the Irene flew across 
 the bow of the Pearl. The mate raised his head 
 to get a better view of the boat as she passed 
 astern. Then he pulled on his shoes. 
 
 "Never touched us ," he commented. 
 
 On the last leg the work was all to windward, 
 and the Irene made a great gain pointing up so 
 close to the wind as to make the mate s broad face 
 a study in smiles. 
 
 "She s a bird that s a fact ," he repeated. 
 
 The mate was a man of few words. 
 
 When the Irene crossed the line the Lucy was 
 fifteen minutes astern and the Pearl still later. 
 
 298
 
 XI 
 
 IpARLY the following morning a messenger 
 I^f handed Nelson a belated telegram, forwarded 
 from New York, that had arr ved the pre 
 vious day. He opened the envelope, and read the 
 following message : 
 
 "Anne has accepted. 
 
 LlGHTHALL,." 
 
 He tore it into bits, and then gazed, reflectively, 
 from his bedroom window 
 
 A quarter of an hour later he had not changed 
 his position. Possibly he was trying to fathom 
 a woman s mind, or, perchance, he was attempting 
 to understand her motives. Or, probably 
 
 299
 
 XII 
 
 ( ZT ND now that the conditions have all been 
 
 \X complied with ," said Nelson, airily, 
 "will you kindly say what time will suit 
 your Highness to go aboard the Phyllis ?" 
 
 "Oh we would first have to be married ," said 
 Hilda, innocently. 
 
 At which he laughed aloud, and laughed again, 
 until the glow deepened on her cheeks, and her lips 
 began to pout. 
 
 "I don t know what I could have said to have 
 caused you so much joy," she demanded. 
 
 He stopped, suddenly, and tried his best to ap 
 pear indifferent. But- the gladness, ectasy, rap 
 ture of the moment, made his heart jump by leaps 
 and bounds. 
 
 "Well?" she insisted. 
 
 "Oh I was thinking of old Botts ," he ex 
 plained, unmeaningly. 
 
 300
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "Captain Botts ?" 
 
 She elevated her eyebrows, and looked mystified. 
 
 "I was wondering what he will say, when he 
 hears ," he went on, trivially. 
 
 "Dear old Captain Botts ," she commented, 
 "if he hadn t stopped the Phyllis for me that 
 day" 
 
 "Pardon ," interrupted Nelson, promptly, "it 
 was I " 
 
 But she ignored him. 
 
 "If he hadn t stopped ," she repeated, "you 
 would not be here." .... 
 
 "But your book ?" she reminded him, as one 
 by one he overcome her objections. "How about 
 The Masses ? " 
 
 They were sitting on the old log, on Sunset 
 Hill. The sun was sinking behind the purple 
 mountains, far away. The calm of the evening 
 was silently enveloping the view. Over the water 
 suddenly appeared a flash of light then disap 
 peared. Further out to sea burned another light, 
 clear, steady. A gentle breeze, full of odoriferous 
 smells from the trees, fanned their faces. 
 301
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 "I have been thinking about The Masses, " he 
 replied, soberly. "I have abandoned the idea 
 
 Her brow clouded. "But you are not going to 
 give up your work 
 
 "No r His eyes followed the glory of the set 
 ting sun, as revealed in the heavens. 
 
 "No but my work will be along different 
 lines" 
 
 They sat silently contemplating the changing 
 colors of the sky. And, strange to say, each knew 
 the other s thoughts. 
 
 "I want to write a book He paused, and 
 drew in a long breath of the sea-laden air. "Oh 
 Hilda, if I could only write 
 
 "I know ," she said, smiling. 
 
 When they returned to the cottage, Uncle 
 Hagen was fussing around the fireplace with a lot 
 of dry kindling wood. 
 
 "It gets cold soon as the sun goes down," he 
 remarked, with a rebuke in his voice. "Young 
 people never think of that 
 
 He lighted a match, and applied it to the whisp 
 of paper under the wood. "Now, Mr. Collins 
 302
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORE S ISLAND 
 
 "Captain Gunther that is not my name ," 
 said Nelson, calmly. 
 
 The captain held the match until it burned his 
 fingers and dropped it. Then he slowly straight 
 ened his back, and looked at Hilda. That young 
 woman was absorbed in contemplation of the 
 Hindo idol, on the mantel piece. A light dawned 
 in the old man s mind. "Oh I see, that s your 
 your name, when you write books He appealed 
 to Hilda. "What do you call it?" 
 
 "A nom de plume ?" she suggested. 
 
 "That s it a nomdyplume." He struck an 
 other match, and lighted the paper. 
 
 Nelson laughed, and shook his head. 
 
 "No Captain Gunther, my name is Nelson 
 Thomas." 
 
 The captain extended his hand, cordially. "I m 
 pleased to meet you." Then he arranged the logs 
 carefully over the blaze, while his mind kept hark 
 ing back. Nelson Thomas "Now I ve got 
 it ," he said abruptly. "You re the man that 
 wrote What was it, Hilda ?" .... 
 
 "You can sail a boat all right : I ll vouch for 
 303
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 that," said the old man later, as he stretched his 
 legs before the blaze. "The way you made that 
 Irene dance around me and Herbert was a sight." 
 Hilda had retired, and the two men were discussing 
 the boat race, over their pipes. 
 
 "Well I was sorry to go ahead of the Lucy" 
 said Nelson, "but I had to beat the Pearl" 
 
 There was a twinkle in the captain s eye. 
 
 "Had your order eh ?" 
 
 A look of intelligence passed between them. 
 
 Then the captain arose, and went into the 
 kitchen. "There s a drop left enough for two," 
 he said in a loud whisper 
 
 304
 
 XIII 
 
 IN Portland Harbor the Phyllis was gently ris 
 ing and falling with the motion of the sea. 
 An insistent light breeze from the south just 
 ruffled the placid waters of the bay. An amber 
 haze intervened between the blue of the sky and 
 water. 
 
 Amidships, at the door of the engine room, Bill, 
 the mate, was describing to Joe, the engineer, and 
 to Jake, the fireman, the boat race at Orr s 
 Island. 
 
 "Here s the way it was ," he explained, as he 
 laid a match, a pipe, and a plug of tobacco on the 
 cushioned seat beside him. "This here plug is the 
 Pearl and following astern was old Gunther s 
 boat, the Lucy; and here we was He laid the 
 match ahead of the pipe and plug. "I was a 
 watchin the backstays, for I thinks to myself that 
 if ther s any trouble, that s where it will be and 
 305
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 the Boss, he was layin back, comfortable like, 
 when along comes that plug the Pearl, a tryin 
 to crowd in between us and the mark 
 
 "Gee !" said Jake, bellicoscly, "I d a rammed 
 her." 
 
 "You would !" said the mate, contemptuously. 
 "A match a rammin a plug ?" 
 
 The illustration was so conclusive that Jake im 
 mediately subsided into a state of embarrassed 
 silence. 
 
 The mate regarded him compassionately, for a 
 few moments, and continued: "As I was a sayin , 
 the Irene 
 
 He broke off, suddenly, and stared over the rail 
 towards Little Diamond. "And here she comes a 
 skippin ," he concluded. 
 
 When the Irene drew alongside, Hilda was at 
 the wheel, with Uncle Hagen for her mate. Nel 
 son and Mrs. Grace Donald were useful as live 
 ballast. As the boat came about under the lee of 
 the Phyllis Captain Gunther regarded his niece 
 with open-eyed admiration. "You re improvin all 
 
 the time ," he commended 
 
 306
 
 BRUNHILDA OF ORR S ISLAND 
 
 The amber-colored haze grew deeper, darker. 
 The lights of Portland twinkled, one by one, 
 through the gathering shades of evening. The 
 moon hung low above the irregular sky line of the 
 buildings, transforming their ordinary propor 
 tions into mystery structures of towers and 
 palaces. And the air was still soft and balmy with 
 the last breath of summer 
 
 Hilda sat on a low chair snugly enfolded in a 
 soft, bright-colored rug, as the Phyllis steamed 
 slowly out to sea. By her side, within reach of 
 her hand, lounged Nelson. 
 
 Captain Botts, erect, sunburned, embarrassed, 
 raised his cap, and bowed stiffly. 
 
 "Any orders ?" he inquired. 
 
 Nelson laughed, contentedly, and nodded to 
 wards Hilda. 
 
 "Ask the owner ," he replied. 
 
 307
 
 I- IN i Hill 
 
 A : : : 2 ""