Their failure, in the lazy days and evenings of voyaging and of rambling in the Bermudan islands, was undeniable. It was the more aggravating since the young man patently admired them. Even, his admiration was excessive, almost reverential, at times. Yet, it was altogether impersonal. They came eventually to know that this mountaineer regarded them with warm friendliness, with a lively gratitude, with a devoted respect, with a certain veneration. But that was all. No dart from their quiver of charms touched to the passionate heart of him--nor ever could. From whichever side the shafts were thrown, always they were shattered against a white shield, and fell harmless. That shield was Plutina.
One night, as the yacht neared New York, Josephine and Zeke sat together, watching the scud of clouds across the moon. The mountaineer spoke softly, after an interval of silence.
"The clouds is runnin' thar jest as I've seen 'em lookin' out across the valley from Stone Mounting--with Plutiny." There was a caress in his voice.
Josephine checked an ejaculation of impatience. The savage was incorrigible--quite! Him, and his everlasting Plutina! Perverse curiosity overcame discretion. Perhaps, too, after all, he only needed guidance. She tried to believe, though vainly, that only shyness prevented him from improving an opportunity any other man would have coveted.
"Tell me," she said softly, with a sympathetic lure in her tones, "is Plutina so very beautiful?"
The lure was effective. Zeke turned to her with the hazel eyes darkly luminous in the moonlight.
"Tiny's beautiful," he answered tenderly; and there was music now in the slow drawl. "I 'low she's the most beautiful woman in the world."
"I'm afraid you're prejudiced," Josephine objected, with a disarming laugh. "Of course, you ought to think so, but, really you know, you haven't quite seen all the beautiful women in the world. Now, have you?"
"All I need to," was the confident assurance. "Why," he continued with an apologetic smile for his boldness. "I done seen you-all, Miss Blaise, an' I reckon you-all are about as beautiful as a woman kin be--'ceptin' Plutina."
The tribute was potent from its very unexpectedness. It eased the chagrin from which vanity had suffered. Evidently, her charms were not disregarded. It was simply that this lover had given his heart, and that he was loyal. The girl sighed a little enviously at the realization. She knew too well that many, perhaps most, in her world were not loyal, even when their hearts were given. She wondered if, in truth, there awaited her the boon of a like faithfulness. Yet she persevered in her probing.