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While Banneker was practicing his elaborate deceptions, Miss Van Arsdale had perpetrated a lesser one of her own, which she had not deemed it wise to reveal to him in their conversation about Io. Some time before that she had written to her former guest a letter tactfully designed to lay a foundation for resolving the difficulty or misunderstanding between the lovers.
It is as hard reasoning with them as it would have been reasoning with Io, when she was flying over land and sea, driven by the sting of the never-sleeping gadfly. This was a delicate, interesting game that he played.
"Only two or three days, until I recover the will to do something. You're awfully kind." Io looked very young and childlike, with her languid, mobile face irradiated by the half-light of the fire. "Perhaps you'll play for me sometime." "Of course. Now, if you like. As soon as the chill gets out of my hands." "Thank you. And sing?" suggested the girl diffidently.
Resigned? And forfeited all his force for education, for enlightenment, for progress of thought and belief, exerted upon millions of minds through The Patriot?... Would that not have been the way of cowardice?... He longed to be left to himself. To think it all out. What would Io say, if she knew everything?
Dear, dirty Dublin "Io te salute" how many excellent things might be said of thee, if, unfortunately, it did not happen that the theme is an old one, and has been much better sung than it can ever now be said.
Banneker, leaning against the slender tree-trunk, dreamed over her, happily and aimlessly. Io opened her eyes to meet his. She stirred softly and smiled at him. "So you discovered me," she said. "How long have you been here?" She studied the sun a moment before replying. "Several hours." "Did you walk over in the night?" "No. You told me not to, you know. I waited till the dawn.
XIII. His arrival, therefore, in town was not very agreeable to the people; and this appeared at the next public spectacle. For when the actors in a farce began a well-known song, Venit, io, Simus a villa: Lo! Clodpate from his village comes; all the spectators, with one voice, went on with the rest, repeating and acting the first verse several times over.
"Heaven save us from the powers of evil!" she said appreciatively. "Aroint thee, witch!" She threw the coin at the cactus. "Chrr-rr-rrum!" burbled the owl, and flew away. "I'm dizzy," said Io. "I wonder if the owl is an omen and whether the other inhabitants of this desert are like him; however much you turn their heads, they won't fall for you.
But on his polished shield was emblazoned in gold Io with uplifted horns, already a heifer and overgrown with hair, a lofty design, and Argus the maiden's warder, and lord Inachus pouring his stream from his embossed urn.
Outside the gaunt box of the station, Io, from the saddle sent forth her resonant, young call: "Oh, Ban!" "'Tis the voice of the Butterfly; hear her declare, 'I've come down to the earth; I am tired of the air'" chanted Banneker's voice in cheerful paraphrase. "Light and preen your wings, Butterfly." Their tone was that of comrades without a shade of anything deeper. "Busy?" asked Io. "Just now.
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