Prince Fortunatus by William Black (good books for 8th graders .TXT) 📕

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"Not at all; he'll come again sure enough."

And then she turned to Lionel? and he was pleased to observe, as she went on to speak to him about her sisters-in-law and their various pursuits, that, proud as those lips were, a sort of grave good-humor seemed to be their habitual expression, and also that those transparently honest, hazel eyes had a very attractive sunniness in them when she was amused.

"The dressmaking," she said. "Of course you know what that is about. They are preparing another of those out-of-door performances. Oh, yes, they are very much in earnest," she went on, with a smile that lightened and sweetened the pronounced character of her face.

"And you are to be entertained this time. They are not going to ask you to do anything. Last time, at Campden Hill, you took a principal part, didn't you?--but this time you are merely to be a guest--a spectator."

"And which are you to be, Miss Cunyngham?" he made bold to ask.

"I? Oh, they never ask me to join in those things," she said, pleasantly enough. "The sacred fire has not descended on me. They say that I regard their performances as mere childish amusement; but I don't really; it isn't for a Philistine like myself to express disdain about anything. But then, you see, if I were to try to join in with my clever sisters, and perhaps when they were most in earnest, I might laugh; and enthusiasts couldn't be expected to like that, could they?"

She spoke very honestly and fairly, he thought, and without showing anything like scorn of what she did not sympathize with; and yet somehow he felt glad that he was not expected to take a part in this new masque.

"From what I remember of it," said he, "I suppose it will be mostly a pageant--there is plenty of patriotic sentiment in it, but hardly any action, as far as I recollect. Of course, I know it chiefly because the poet Thomson wrote it, or partly wrote it, and because he put 'Rule Britannia' into it. Isn't it odd," he added, with a touch of adroit flattery (as he considered), "that the two chief national songs of England, 'Ye Mariners of England' and 'Rule Britannia' should both have been written by Scotchmen?"

She paid no heed to this compliment; indeed he might have known that the old Scotch families (many of them of Norman origin, by the way) have so intermarried with English families that they have very little distinct nationality, though they may be proud enough of their name. This young lady was no more Scotch than himself.

"I will try him again now," said she, with a glance at the water, and forthwith she set to work with rod and line, beginning a few yards farther up the stream, and gradually working down to where she had risen the fish. As she came near the spot, Lionel could see that she was covering every inch of water with the greatest care, and also that at the end of each cast she let the fly hang for a time in the current. He became quite anxious himself. Was she not quite close to the fish now? Or had he caught too clear a glimpse of the fly on the previous occasion, and gone away? Yes, she must be almost over him now; and yet there was no sign. Or past him? Or he might have turned and gone a yard or two farther down? Then, as this eagerly interested spectator was intently watching the swirls of the deep pool, there was a sudden wave on the surface, she struck up her rod slightly, and the next moment away went her line tearing through the water, while the reel screamed out its joyous note of recognition. Old Robert jumped to his feet. At the same instant the fish made another appalling rush, far away on the opposite side of the river, and at the end of it flashed into the air--a swift gleam of purple-blue and silver that revealed his splendid size. Lionel was quite breathless with excitement. He dared not speak to her, for fear of distracting her attention. But she was apparently quite calm; and old Robert looked on without any great solicitude, as if he knew that his young mistress needed neither advice nor assistance. Meanwhile the salmon had come back into the middle of the stream, where it lay deep, only giving evidence of its existence by a series of vicious tugs.

"I don't like that tugging, Robert," she said. "He knows too much. He has pulled himself free from a fly before."

"Ay, ay, I'm afraid of that too," old Robert said, with his keen eyes fixed on every movement of the straining line.

Then the fish lay still and sulked; and she took the opportunity of moving a little bit up-stream and reeling in a yard or two.

"Would you like to take the rod now, Mr. Moore?" she said, generously.

"Oh, certainly not," he exclaimed. "I would not for worlds you should lose the salmon--and do you think I could take the responsibility?"

He ceased speaking, for he saw that her attention had once more been drawn to the salmon, which was now calmly and steadily making up-stream. He watched the slow progress of the line; and then, to his horror, he perceived that the fish was heading for the other side of a large gray rock that stood in mid-channel. If he should persist in boring his way up that farther current, would not he inevitably cut the line on the rock? What could she do? Still nearer and nearer to the big boulder went that white line, steadily cutting through the brown water; and still she said not a word, though Lionel fancied she was now putting on a heavier strain. At last the line was almost touching the stone; and there the salmon lay motionless. He was within half a yard of certain freedom, if only he had known; for the water was far too deep to allow of old Robert wading in and getting the line over the rock. But just as Lionel, far more excited than the fisher-maiden herself, was wondering what was going to happen next, the whole situation of affairs was reversed in a twinkling; the salmon suddenly turned and dashed away down-stream until it was right at the end of the pool, and there, in deep water on the other side, it resumed its determined tugging, so that the pliant top of the rod was shaken as if by a human hand.

"That is what frightens me," she said to Lionel. "I don't like that at all."

But what could he do to help her? Eager wishes were of no avail; and yet he felt as if the crowning joy of his life would be to see that splendid big fish safely out there on the bank. All his faculties seemed to be absorbed in the contemplation of that momentous struggle. The past and the future were alike cut off from him--he had forgotten all about the theatre and its trumpery applause--he had no thought but for the unseen creature underneath the water, that was dashing its head from side to side, and then boring down, and then sailing away over to the opposite shallows, exhausting every manoeuvre to regain its liberty. He could not speak to her; what was anything he could say as compared with the tremendous importance of the next movement on the part of the fish? But she was calm enough.

"He doesn't tire himself much, Robert," she said. "He keeps all his strength for that tugging."

But just as she spoke the salmon began to come into mid-stream again, and she stepped a yard or two back, reeling in the line swiftly. Once or twice she looked at the top of the rod: there was a faint strain on, nothing more. Then her enemy seemed inclined to yield a little; she reeled in still more quickly; knot after knot of the casting-line gradually rose from the surface; at last they caught sight of a dull, bronze gleam--the sunlight striking through the brown water on the side of the fish. But he had no intention of giving in yet; he had only come up to look about him. Presently he headed up-stream again--quietly and steadily; then there was another savage shaking of his head and tugging; then a sharp run and plunge; and again he lay deep, jerking to get this unholy thing out of his jaw. Lionel began to wonder that any one should voluntarily and for the sake of amusement undergo this frightful anxiety. He knew that if he had possession of the rod, his hands would be trembling; his breath would be coming short and quick; that a lifetime of hope and fear would be crowded into every minute. And yet here was this girl watching coolly and critically the motion of the line, and showing not the slightest trace of excitement on her finely cut, impressive features. But he noticed that her lips were firm; perhaps she was nerving herself not to betray any concern.

"I think I am getting the better of him, Robert," said she, presently, as the fish began to steer a little in her direction.

"I would step back a bit, Miss Honnor," the keen-visaged old gillie said; but he did not step back; on the contrary, he crouched down by the side of a big boulder, close to the water, and again he tried his gaff, to make sure that the steel clip was firmly fixed in the handle.

Yes, there was no doubt that the salmon was beaten. He kept coming nearer and nearer to the land, led by the gentle, continuous strain of the pliant top, though ever and anon he would vainly try to head away again into deep water. It was a beautiful thing to look at: this huge, gleaming creature taken captive by an almost invisible line, and gradually yielding to inevitable fate. Joy was in Lionel's heart. If he had wondered that any one, for the sake of amusement, should choose to undergo such agonies of anxiety, he wondered no more. Here was the fierce delight of triumph. The struggle of force against skill was about over; there was no more tugging now; there were no more frantic rushes or bewildering leaps in the air. Slowly, slowly the great fish was being led in to shore. Twice had old Robert warily stretched out his gaff, only to find that the prize was not yet within his reach. And then, just as the young lady with the firm-set lips said, 'Now, Robert!' and just as the gaff was cautiously extended for the third time, the salmon gave a final lurch forward, and the next instant--before Lionel could tell what had happened--the fly was dangling helplessly in the air, and the fish was gone.

"Au Yeea!" said Robert, in an undertone, to himself; while Lionel, as soon as he perceived the extent of the catastrophe, felt as though some black horror had fallen over the world. He could not say a word; he seemed yearning to have the fish for one second again where he had lately seen it--and then wouldn't he have gladly jumped into the stream, gaff in hand, to secure the splendid trophy! But now--now there was nothing but emptiness and a lifeless waste of hurrying water.

And as regards the young lady? Well, she smiled--in a disconcerted way, to be sure; and then she said, with apparent resignation,

"I almost expected it. I never do hope to get a tugging salmon; all the way through I was saying to myself we shouldn't land