He sensed the repressed thrill in her voice, and he knew that in the light of day he would have seen fire in her cheeks. He smiled, and in that smile he could not quite keep back the cynicism of his thought.
“And what do you know about Alaska, Miss Standish?”
“Nothing,” she said. “And yet I love it.” She pointed to the mountains. “I wish I might have been born among them. You are fortunate. You should love America.”
“Alaska, you mean!”
“No, America.” There was a flashing challenge in her eyes. She was not speaking apologetically. Her meaning was direct.
The irony on Alan's lips died away. With a little laugh he bowed again. “If I am speaking to a daughter of Captain Miles Standish, who came over in theMayflower , I stand reproved,” he said. “You should be an authority on Americanism, if I am correct in surmising your relationship.”
“You are correct,” she replied with a proud, little tilt of her glossy head, “though I think that only lately have I come to an understanding of its significance—and its responsibility. I ask your pardon again for interrupting you. It was not premeditated. It just happened.”
She did not wait for either of them to speak, but flashed the two a swift smile and passed down the promenade.
The music had ceased and the cabins at last were emptying themselves of life.
“A remarkable young woman,” Alan remarked. “I imagine that the spirit of Captain Miles Standish may be a little proud of this particular olive-branch. A chip off the old block, you might say. One would almost suppose he had married Priscilla and this young lady was a definite though rather indirect result.”
He had a curious way of laughing without any more visible manifestation of humor than spoken words. It was a quality in his voice which one could not miss, and at times, when ironically amused, it carried a sting which he did not altogether intend.
In another moment Mary Standish was forgotten, and he was asking the captain a question which was in his mind.
“The itinerary of this ship is rather confused, is it not?”
“Yes—rather,” acknowledged Captain Rifle. “Hereafter she will ply directly between Seattle and Nome. But this time we're doing the Inside Passage to Juneau and Skagway and will make the Aleutian Passage via Cordova and Seward. A whim of the owners, which they haven't seen fit to explain to me. Possibly the Canadian junket aboard may have something to do with it. We're landing them at Skagway, where they make the Yukon by way of White Horse Pass. A pleasure trip for flabby people nowadays, Holt.