An American Tragedy Theodore Dreiser (whitelam books .TXT) 📖

“Just out for a walk?” he forced himself to say, although, because of his delight and his fear of her really, he felt not a little embarrassed now that she was directly before him. At the same time he added, recalling that she had been looking so intently at the water: “You want some of these water lilies? Is that what you’re looking for?”

“Uh, huh,” she replied, still smiling and looking directly at him, for the sight of his dark hair blown by the wind, the pale blue outing shirt he wore open at the neck, his sleeves rolled up and the yellow paddle held by him above the handsome blue boat, quite thrilled her. If only she could win such a youth for her very own self⁠—just hers and no one else’s in the whole world. It seemed as though this would be paradise⁠—that if she could have him she would never want anything else in all the world. And here at her very feet he sat now in this bright canoe on this clear July afternoon in this summery world⁠—so new and pleasing to her. And now he was laughing up at her so directly and admiringly. Her girl friend was far in the rear somewhere looking for daisies. Could she? Should she?

“I was seeing if there was any way to get out to any of them,” she continued a little nervously, a tremor almost revealing itself in her voice. “I haven’t seen any before just here on this side.”

“I’ll get you all you want,” he exclaimed briskly and gayly. “You just stay where you are. I’ll bring them.” But then, bethinking him of how much more lovely it would be if she were to get in with him, he added: “But see here⁠—why don’t you get in here with me? There’s plenty of room and I can take you anywhere you want to go. There’s lots nicer lilies up the lake here a little way and on the other side too. I saw hundreds of them over there just beyond that island.”

Roberta looked. And as she did, another canoe paddled by, holding a youth of about Clyde’s years and a girl no older than herself. She wore a white dress and a pink hat and the canoe was green. And far across the water at the point of the very island about which Clyde was talking was another canoe⁠—bright yellow with a boy and a girl in that. She was thinking she would like to get in without her companion, if possible⁠—with her, if need be. She wanted so much to have him all to herself. If she had only come out here alone. For if Grace Marr were included, she would know and later talk, maybe, or think, if she heard anything else in regard to them ever. And yet if she did not, there was the fear that he might not like her any more⁠—might even come to dislike her or give up being interested in her, and that would be dreadful.

She stood staring and thinking, and Clyde, troubled and pained by her doubt on this occasion and his own loneliness and desire for her, suddenly called: “Oh, please don’t say no. Just get in, won’t you? You’ll like it. I want you to. Then we can find all the lilies you want. I can let you out anywhere you want to get out⁠—in ten minutes if you want to.”

She marked the “I want you to.” It soothed and strengthened her. He had no desire to take any advantage of her as she could see.

“But I have my friend with me here,” she exclaimed almost sadly and dubiously, for she still wanted to go alone⁠—never in her life had she wanted anyone less than Grace Marr at this moment. Why had she brought her? She wasn’t so very pretty and Clyde might not like her, and that might spoil the occasion. “Besides,” she added almost in the same breath and with many thoughts fighting her, “maybe I’d better not. Is it safe?”

“Oh, yes, maybe you better had,” laughed Clyde seeing that she was yielding. “It’s perfectly safe,” he added eagerly. Then maneuvering the canoe next to the bank, which was a foot above the water, and laying hold of a root to hold it still, he said: “Of course you won’t be in any danger. Call your friend then, if you want to, and I’ll row the two of you. There’s room for two and there are lots of water lilies everywhere over there.” He nodded toward the east side of the lake.

Roberta could no longer resist and seized an overhanging branch by which to steady herself. At the same time she began to call: “Oh, Gray-ace! Gray-ace! Where are you?” for she had at last decided that it was best to include her.

A far-off voice as quickly answered: “Hello-o! What do you want?”

“Come up here. Come on. I got something I want to tell you.”

“Oh, no, you come on down here. The daisies are just wonderful.”

“No, you come on up here. There’s someone here that wants to take us boating.” She intended to call this loudly, but somehow her voice failed and her friend went on gathering flowers. Roberta frowned. She did not know just what to do. “Oh, very well, then,” she suddenly decided, and straightening up added: “We can row down to where she is, I guess.”

And Clyde, delighted, exclaimed: “Oh, that’s just fine. Sure. Do get in. We’ll pick these here first and then if she hasn’t come, I’ll paddle down nearer to where she is. Just step square in the center and that will balance it.”

He was leaning back and looking up at her and Roberta was looking nervously and yet warmly into his eyes. Actually it was as though she were suddenly diffused with joy, enveloped in a rosy mist.

She balanced one foot. “Will it be perfectly safe?”

“Sure, sure,” emphasized Clyde. “I’ll hold it safe. Just take