Phyllis of Philistia [59]
far apart that they came to appreciate each other.
It seemed, indeed, that there was some truth in what that man said, for Phyllis, before the ice pudding appeared, had come to the conclusion that George Holland was a very uninteresting sort of man. To be sure, he had not talked about himself,--he was not such a fool as to do that: he had talked about her to the exclusion of almost every other topic--he had been wise enough to do that,--but in spite of all, he had not succeeded in arousing her interest. He had not succeeded in making her think of the present when her thoughts had been dwelling on the past--not the distant past, not the past of two months ago, when they had been lovers, but the past of two hours ago, when she had watched the effect of her words upon Herbert Courtland.
She chatted away to George Holland very pleasantly--as pleasantly as usual--so pleasantly as to cause some of her fellow-guests to smile and whisper significantly to one another, suggesting the impossibility of two persons who got on so well together as Mr. Holland and Miss Ayrton being separated by a barrier so paltry as an engagement broken off by the young woman for conscience' sake.
But when the significant smiles of these persons were forced upon the notice of their hostess, she did not smile; she was a lady with a really remarkable lack of knowledge; but she knew better than to accept the pleasant chat of George Holland and Phyllis Ayrton as an indication that the /status quo ante bellum/--to make use of the expressive phrase of diplomacy--had been re-established between them.
Only when George Holland ventured to express his admiration of Mr. Ayrton's adroitness in dealing with the foolish question of the gentleman from Wales did he succeed in interesting Miss Ayrton.
"What a very foolish letter those missionaries sent home regarding the explorations of Mr. Courtland!" said he. "Did they hope to jeopardize the popularity of Mr. Courtland by suggesting that he had massacred a number of cannibals?"
"I suppose that was their object," said Phyllis.
"They must be singularly foolish persons, even for missionaries," said the Rev. George Holland.
"Even for missionaries?" Phyllis repeated. "Oh, I forgot that you are no believer in the advantages of missions to the people whom we call heathen. But I have not been able to bring myself to agree with you there. They have souls to be saved."
"That is quite likely," said he. "But the methods of the missionaries, generally speaking, have not tended in that direction. Hence the missionary as a comestible is more highly esteemed by the natives than the missionary as a reformer. They rarely understand the natives themselves, and they nearly always fail to make themselves intelligible to the natives. It would appear that the two foolish persons who wrote that letter about Mr. Courtland made but a poor attempt at understanding even their own countrymen, if they fancied that any rumor of a massacre of cannibals--nay, any proof of such a massacre--would have an appreciable effect upon the popularity of the man who brought home the meteor-bird."
"You don't think that the public generally would believe the story?" said Phyllis.
"I think it extremely unlikely that they would believe it," he replied. "But even if they believed every word of it they would not cease to believe in Mr. Courtland's bravery. What is a hecatomb of cannibals compared to the discovery of the meteor-bird,--that is, in the eyes of the general public, or for that matter, the Nonconformist public who turn up their eyes at the suggestion of a massacre of natives of an island that is almost as unknown to them as Ireland itself? The people of this country of ours respect bravery more than any other virtue, and I'm not altogether sure that they are generally astray in this matter. The Christian faith is founded upon bravery, and the same faith has inspired countless acts of brave men and women. Oh, no! Mr. Courtland will not suffer from the attacks of these foolish persons."
"I saw him this--a short time ago,"
It seemed, indeed, that there was some truth in what that man said, for Phyllis, before the ice pudding appeared, had come to the conclusion that George Holland was a very uninteresting sort of man. To be sure, he had not talked about himself,--he was not such a fool as to do that: he had talked about her to the exclusion of almost every other topic--he had been wise enough to do that,--but in spite of all, he had not succeeded in arousing her interest. He had not succeeded in making her think of the present when her thoughts had been dwelling on the past--not the distant past, not the past of two months ago, when they had been lovers, but the past of two hours ago, when she had watched the effect of her words upon Herbert Courtland.
She chatted away to George Holland very pleasantly--as pleasantly as usual--so pleasantly as to cause some of her fellow-guests to smile and whisper significantly to one another, suggesting the impossibility of two persons who got on so well together as Mr. Holland and Miss Ayrton being separated by a barrier so paltry as an engagement broken off by the young woman for conscience' sake.
But when the significant smiles of these persons were forced upon the notice of their hostess, she did not smile; she was a lady with a really remarkable lack of knowledge; but she knew better than to accept the pleasant chat of George Holland and Phyllis Ayrton as an indication that the /status quo ante bellum/--to make use of the expressive phrase of diplomacy--had been re-established between them.
Only when George Holland ventured to express his admiration of Mr. Ayrton's adroitness in dealing with the foolish question of the gentleman from Wales did he succeed in interesting Miss Ayrton.
"What a very foolish letter those missionaries sent home regarding the explorations of Mr. Courtland!" said he. "Did they hope to jeopardize the popularity of Mr. Courtland by suggesting that he had massacred a number of cannibals?"
"I suppose that was their object," said Phyllis.
"They must be singularly foolish persons, even for missionaries," said the Rev. George Holland.
"Even for missionaries?" Phyllis repeated. "Oh, I forgot that you are no believer in the advantages of missions to the people whom we call heathen. But I have not been able to bring myself to agree with you there. They have souls to be saved."
"That is quite likely," said he. "But the methods of the missionaries, generally speaking, have not tended in that direction. Hence the missionary as a comestible is more highly esteemed by the natives than the missionary as a reformer. They rarely understand the natives themselves, and they nearly always fail to make themselves intelligible to the natives. It would appear that the two foolish persons who wrote that letter about Mr. Courtland made but a poor attempt at understanding even their own countrymen, if they fancied that any rumor of a massacre of cannibals--nay, any proof of such a massacre--would have an appreciable effect upon the popularity of the man who brought home the meteor-bird."
"You don't think that the public generally would believe the story?" said Phyllis.
"I think it extremely unlikely that they would believe it," he replied. "But even if they believed every word of it they would not cease to believe in Mr. Courtland's bravery. What is a hecatomb of cannibals compared to the discovery of the meteor-bird,--that is, in the eyes of the general public, or for that matter, the Nonconformist public who turn up their eyes at the suggestion of a massacre of natives of an island that is almost as unknown to them as Ireland itself? The people of this country of ours respect bravery more than any other virtue, and I'm not altogether sure that they are generally astray in this matter. The Christian faith is founded upon bravery, and the same faith has inspired countless acts of brave men and women. Oh, no! Mr. Courtland will not suffer from the attacks of these foolish persons."
"I saw him this--a short time ago,"