At the Horse Show. p. 53. 
 
 Frontispiece.
 
 THE MERRY MAID OF 
 ARCADY, HIS LORDSHIP 
 AND OTHER STORIES 
 
 By MRS. BURTON HARRISON 
 &1Q##i$t> V CO #$TAtfce:&A&J)J 
 
 AUTHOR OF A Virginia Cousin and Bar Harbor Tales, 
 Sweet Bells .out of Tune, A Bachelor Maid, &c., &c. 
 
 LAMSON, WOLFFE AND COMPANY 
 Boston, London, New York MDCCCXCVII
 
 Copyright, 1897, 
 By Lamson, Wolffe, and Company. 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 XortoonD 13rrss 
 
 J. S. Gushing & Co. Berwick & Smith 
 Norwood Man. U.S.A.
 
 PS 
 
 Contents H % 4.5" ir> 
 
 Page 
 The Merry Maid of Arcady . i 
 
 Worrosquoyacke . . . .51 
 
 Leaves from the Diary of Ruth March- 
 
 mont, Spinster . . . .117 
 
 Thirteen at Table . . . .165 
 
 At a Winter House- Party . . .197 
 
 The Secret of San Juan . . .223 
 
 " The Stranger Within Thy Gate " . 279 
 
 His Lordship . . . . .301 
 
 2046439
 
 List of Illustrations 
 
 Page 
 
 At the Horse Show . . . Frontispiece 
 
 " Wilcox did not move a muscle, but 
 smoked his cigar in silence to the 
 end " 80 
 
 The Holiday Dance at Worrosquoyacke 113
 
 For permission to reproduce the original illus 
 trations by W. T. Smedley, the Publishers are 
 indebted to The Ladies' Home Journal.
 
 The Merry Maid of Arcady
 
 The Merry Maid of Arcady 
 
 MISS POINTDEXTER sat in her The 
 hall bedroom in the fourth story of Merry 
 Mrs. Penfold's boarding-house, and looked Maid of 
 down upon the street. Her throne was a Arcady 
 Vienna bent-wood chair, with aggressive 
 rockers, which she had come to regard as a 
 very nestling-place of comfort, in contrast 
 with the only other chair the room con 
 tained a hard wooden monster of the 
 variety appertaining to suites displayed by 
 emporiums that fit out the sidewalks with 
 their wares, under the label " Chaste and 
 Cheap." 
 
 Recently, since Miss Pointdexter had 
 resided, summer and winter, with Mrs. 
 Penfold for ten years, the boarding-house 
 keeper had, in a burst of generosity, fur 
 nished her room with one of those sets in 
 highly polished ash, going so far as to sub 
 stitute for the wooden bedstead one in iron, 
 painted white, with brass knobs and rails.
 
 The From the date of this addition to her 
 
 Merry kingdom Miss Pointdexter had felt the 
 Maid of same fluttering complacency that animated 
 Arcady her school friend Mrs. Algernon Thorne, 
 of Madison Avenue, when that lady's hus 
 band consented to buy the house adjoining 
 their family mansion, throw the two into 
 one, and make over the whole in the best 
 style of the American Renaissance in art. 
 The substitution of an iron bedstead 
 for the wooden one had not only added 
 full three inches in breadth to Miss Point- 
 dexter's domain, but had imparted to it a 
 note of decoration, of coquetry, of living 
 up to date and fashion, that refreshed 
 agreeably the jaded spirit of the beneficiary. 
 Last, but far from least in the list of Mrs. 
 Penfold's concessions to the promptings 
 of conscience, had been the new papering 
 of Miss Pointdexter's walls, with a paper 
 at thirty cents the roll, which, it must be 
 admitted, was five cents more than the 
 most grasping imagination of a boarder 
 could have demanded. Miss Pointdexter 
 never knew that her allowance of wall 
 paper was left over from a first-floor bed 
 room. To her dying day she cherished
 
 the illusion that it was a spontaneous The 
 efflorescence of Mrs. Penfold's humanity Merry 
 to a sister long in distress through an envi- Maid of 
 ronment of chocolate-colored stripes dotted Arcady 
 with bunches of pea-green grapes. 
 
 The new decoration of her walls re 
 vealed to Miss Pointdexter's ravished eyes 
 a pattern of honeysuckles, yellow and coral, 
 on a pale yellow ground. This harmoniz 
 ing sufficiently with the rather threadbare 
 brown carpet, Miss Pointdexter was fired 
 with ambition to curtain her window. 
 For this purpose she made several furtive 
 visits to the large shops that advertise bar 
 gains in such stuffs as she desired. But 
 when one set of lace curtains after another, 
 at seventy-five cents the pair, had been 
 begrudgingly unfolded to her gaze, she 
 came away from them disconsolate. No 
 aesthetic pleasure was possible to be de 
 rived from these great sprawling designs 
 of roses and dahlias upon a coarse Not 
 tingham foundation. And the better grades 
 of patterns, the spots and stars and tre 
 foils, must remain upon their shelves out 
 of reach of her little hand and purse. 
 
 Although Miss Pointdexter had so long 
 
 [5]
 
 The been a dweller in the honeycomb of Mrs. 
 
 Merry Penfold's two houses filled with boarders, 
 Maid of she had been born to a more liberal hori- 
 Arcady zon. In the household out of which she 
 came, one of the sayings impressed upon 
 young people was, that whatever Provi 
 dence ordained for them, whether good 
 fortune or reverse, it should be accepted 
 quietly, not carrying one's affairs to other 
 ears (unless the confidence were sought by 
 those who had a right to know). Miss 
 Pointdexter was no longer a young person, 
 but she often found herself recalling these 
 utterances of dead lips as reverently and 
 simply as she had first received them long 
 years ago, just as, quite unconsciously, 
 when at night she had screwed her fringe 
 of front hair into chrysalids of curls for 
 the morrow, she knelt down by the iron 
 bedstead with brass rails and prayed God 
 to make her a " good girl." 
 
 The Pointdexter tradition of silent endur 
 ance was, however, infringed upon by its 
 inheritor when Mrs. Berry, the laundress, 
 instead of sending her boy, as usual, with 
 Miss Pointdexter's wash, condescended to 
 mount the third flight of stairs and inter-
 
 pose her own ample person into the space The 
 between bed and wall, crushing the right- Merry 
 ful occupant into the window. Maid of 
 
 " Well, I want to know ! " Mrs. Berry Arcady 
 had remarked, pantingly, placing the palms 
 of her hands, corrugated by repeated im 
 mersion into soapsuds, upon her matronly 
 hips ; " if this ain't real handsome ! It 
 reminds me of one of the bedrooms at 
 Mis' Hall's when I wet-nussed her eldest, 
 the same as was stroke oar at Harvard last 
 year, Miss Pointdexter, and as fine a young 
 man as you'd wish to see ; an' did you read 
 about the deebutt of her youngest girl, 
 ma'am, in the Evening World o' yesterday ? 
 They're real folks, I call 'em ; think nuthin* 
 o' spendin' five hundred dollars fur a cur 
 tain made o' 'Merican Beauty roses to hang 
 between the foldin'-doors an' that's the 
 kind o' place I'd be in now if I hadn't lis 
 tened to Berry, an' set up fur ourselves, 
 an' he takin' to bad habits, or he might 
 'a' stayed coachman to the Four Hundred, 
 i'stead o' lyin' abed in the room over the 
 laundry, an' thumpin' an' bellowin' fur me 
 to come an' wait on him, an' me workin' 
 fur the six of us." 
 
 [7]
 
 The " I wish I had a curtain worth a dollar 
 
 Merry and fifty cents," said Miss Pointdexter, as 
 Maid of she counted out the small sum accruing to 
 Arcady Mrs. Berry into that lady's hand. Di 
 rectly after having given expression to this 
 aspiration, Virginia felt a flush run up into 
 the roots of her hair. What would the 
 Pointdexter shades say to this revelation 
 of her poverty and unsatisfied yearning, and 
 before a washer-woman, too ? 
 
 Luckily Mrs. Berry, accustomed to look 
 at such things in the concrete, missed the 
 fine point of Miss Pointdexter's offence 
 against family dicta. Entering into the 
 spirit of the occasion, she declared heartily 
 that it would be a shame to let the room 
 go without the finishing touch of drapery, 
 and proffered to her client the gift of a 
 suddenly remembered pair of dotted mus 
 lin curtains with goffered frills, that she 
 had " done up " for a lady who went away 
 to Europe without leaving an address, and 
 had never been heard from since. 
 
 " If you think, Mrs. Berry," Miss Point 
 dexter said, slowly, her brain whirling with 
 the double excitement of the offer and her 
 doubt as to the moral responsibility in-
 
 volved, " that I would do no harm to the The 
 curtains by using them luckily there is Merry 
 a pole and rings and you would let me Maid of 
 pay you what I can afford toward them, Arcady 
 with the understanding that if the lady 
 ever comes back you will let me know at 
 once, and that I will then meet the ex 
 pense of doing them up again" here she 
 paused, revolving the prudence of this out 
 lay " I should be most glad, most thank 
 ful " this, again, stuck like a bur in the 
 poor gentlewoman's throat, and was bravely 
 cleared away " most thankful," she re 
 peated, in a firm voice. 
 
 11 Law bless your soul, Miss Point- 
 dexter, you nor me ain't never goin' to 
 hear o' that owner again. I can't use 
 'em, an' there they've been lying by and 
 turnin' yellow these two years, so I guess 
 I'll just have to run 'em through the wash 
 again, anyhow." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " said Virginia, suavely. She 
 knew she could not afford to have them 
 done up now. " A slight tinge of ecru is 
 really more fashionable than white, Mrs. 
 Berry." 
 
 In the watches of the night she awoke
 
 to confront this insincerity, and to repent 
 it. But by the next day, when the cur- 
 Maid of tains arrived and were put up by Miss 
 Arcady Pointdexter, standing on the top of her 
 chest of drawers, her prickings of con 
 science made themselves conspicuously less 
 felt. By the time she had scrambled down, 
 pushed the chest of drawers back into its 
 place, and tied the curtains on either side 
 with yellow bows, Miss Pointdexter's 
 moral hardening was accomplished. She 
 almost danced for joy. Diving down to 
 the bottom of a trunk of relics kept under 
 her bed, she fished out of its faintly musty 
 interior one or two belongings of her father 
 killed on the Confederate side at Appo- 
 mattox Court House and turned them 
 over, wondering if she could bring herself 
 to cancel her debt of gratitude to Mrs. 
 Berry by devoting one of these to that 
 lady's suffering liege. There was among 
 them a gray flannel shirt, made by Vir 
 ginia's mother to put in the kit of her 
 husband when departing for the war whence 
 he returned nevermore. It had been worn 
 in camp and in battle, and now lay stif 
 fened in the folds of a quarter of a cen-
 
 tury. When Miss Pointdexter took it out The 
 of the chest, under the light of her single Merry 
 gas burner, she gave the quick gasp that Maid of 
 never failed to follow the touch of its soft Arcady 
 old texture. 
 
 " What it means, who remembers ? 
 who cares now ? " she said to herself. 
 " Only a few like me here, and in the 
 South thousands that are carrying it to 
 their graves. Soon I may be gone, and 
 when strange hands turn over my things, 
 I couldn't bear to have this held up for 
 laughter because it was kept in the trunk 
 of an old maid. Better part with it now, 
 and little by little I'll find something to do 
 with the rest." 
 
 Thus Mr. Berry came into possession of 
 the Confederate flannel shirt, which, to his 
 wife's satisfaction, he took into immediate 
 wear dying in it, to her equal relief, a 
 month or two later in that same season. 
 
 Miss Pointdexter's room was warmed by 
 leaving the door open for the furnace heat 
 of the halls to come in. This method, 
 shared by a young Southerner who occu 
 pied the larger room adjoining, brought the 
 two into an acquaintance that had proved
 
 The an era in her life. Miss Pointdexter had 
 
 Merry been known by old boarders to speak of an 
 Maid of absent nephew. But he had died in Cali- 
 Arcady fornia many years before, and now she 
 spoke of nobody belonging to her to any 
 body in the house. 
 
 When he was away, she would often go 
 into young Alexander's room and tidy his 
 table, rummaging in his drawers for socks 
 with holes and shirts with broken button 
 holes, which she would mend and restore 
 unknown to the innocent youth, who de 
 clared his chambermaid to be a trump. 
 
 Always exquisitely neat in person, Miss 
 Virginia's pale cameo face, with the fine 
 brown hair cut and frizzed above the low 
 brow, the large mild gray eyes, and the 
 mouth that was still a Cupid's bow, often 
 caught the attention of strangers, who 
 would say, " That must have been a pretty 
 woman in her day." But to young Alex 
 ander only did her face break into the 
 luminous smile that convinced him she 
 was still more than pretty. He found out 
 that she could laugh, too laugh with the 
 sudden ringing joy of a school-girl. But 
 that was seldom.
 
 Young Alexander had fallen into the The 
 habit of stopping after dinner in the board- Merry 
 ing-house parlor to exchange a few words Maid of 
 with her ; then to tell her of his business Arcady 
 and its prospects of advance ; then of his 
 increasing social opportunities and intro 
 ductions to people who made society; 
 finally of his home, his mother and sisters 
 in Carolina. In all of which she sympa 
 thized in a manner unusual to her quiet 
 self. 
 
 On the evening when Miss Pointdexter 
 sat down in her completely renovated room 
 (" for who would be apt to look down at 
 the carpet," she argued, rt on coming in 
 to face such a wall-paper and curtains ? ") 
 she had turned down the gas, and seated 
 herself in the Vienna bent-wood rocking- 
 chair to look out of the window into the 
 street. For some time past her eyes had 
 given her warning they would no longer 
 be trifled with by a single "fish-tail" 
 burner fixed at some distance above them, 
 when she sat under it to read or write or 
 sew. A visit to the oculist, so much a 
 matter of course to the well-to-do, was not 
 considered by her. A drop-light and 
 
 Cwl
 
 The Argand burner, or, what seemed the pitch 
 
 Merry of luxury, a student's lamp, would cost her 
 
 Maid of a week's board. So she often sat now in 
 
 Arcady the dark in preference to the boarding-house 
 
 parlor below. And so sitting, she thought 
 
 of many things not cheerful. 
 
 On the tiny table, squeezed into the 
 recess of the door leading into the adjoin 
 ing room, lay a new novel lent her by 
 young Alexander that morning a book 
 read of, heard of, long coveted, the perusal 
 of which would have made her dull even 
 ing more eventful and stirring than one 
 spent at dinner and theatre or ball by the 
 sated souls whose carriages rolled contin 
 ually in her sight up and down the long 
 avenue coated with light snow. 
 
 It did not occur to Virginia to begrudge 
 these people their privileges, for she was 
 one of the rare beings " with whom the 
 melodies abide of the everlasting chime." 
 She was well balanced, cheerful by nature, 
 and to-night, especially, she " carried music 
 in her heart " in the consciousness of sur 
 roundings that satisfied her aesthetic crav 
 ing in a fashion consolatory for most other 
 earthly woes. For she was all a woman
 
 in this respect, a commonplace woman The 
 who likes prettiness and millinery effects. Merry 
 Could she have chosen the vocation that Maid of 
 was to eke out her little patrimony into a Arcady 
 support in the metropolis, her lot might 
 have been cast in one of those bowers of 
 tinsel beauty where soft-voiced gentle 
 women who have seen better days take 
 counsel with their customers about lamp 
 shades, sofa cushions, and favors for the 
 cotillon, or else in an emporium of decora 
 tive art, where she could have had the daily 
 solace of handling frost-work embroid 
 eries, and linens reft of their threads to 
 be wrought, into fine silken spider-webs. 
 Miss Pointdexter sighed now and then in 
 gentle envy of those women she knew who 
 could paint the bloated Cupids, Strephons, 
 and Chloes that are seen breaking out in 
 pink, like erysipelas, on a background of 
 ribbed canvas. This seemed to her some 
 thing one should be born to achieve. On 
 the Pointdexter plantation, on the Eastern 
 Shore of Maryland, cutting out garments 
 of cotton domestic for the colored people, 
 and pickling and preserving, had been 
 esteemed a more important part of woman's
 
 The whole duty than the culture of brush and 
 
 Merry pigment in decoration of unoffending 
 
 Maid of surfaces. 
 
 Arcady As it was, Virginia had to spend her 
 
 days in the prosaic atmosphere of an in 
 dustry established by a blooming young 
 woman of good society for the aid of her 
 less fortunate sisters. Here she " took in " 
 the plain work sewed at the homes of the 
 workers, and " gave out " the elementary 
 portions of brides' and babies' wardrobes. 
 Sometimes her thirst for pretty things was 
 stayed by the handling of inconceivably 
 fine linen and flannel stuffs, with thread 
 lace for trimming, which she well knew 
 how to appreciate, since no Pointdexter 
 girl was allowed to "come out" into so 
 ciety without a dozen of what the Vicar of 
 Wakefield's ladies would have tranquilly 
 called " shifts," every stitch set by hand, 
 and all garnished with hemstitched ruffles 
 of linen cambric and real Valenciennes. 
 
 But, for the most part, Virginia's days 
 were dull, her associates poorer and with 
 less opportunity for indulgence of taste 
 than herself. She often went for so many 
 hours without smiling that she forgot she
 
 had once been called, after the florid fash- The 
 ion of Southern admirers of the belles Merry 
 whom they delight to honor, " The Merry Maid of 
 Maid of Arcady." Arcady 
 
 Arcady was the style and title in for 
 mer days of the Pointdexter plantation, 
 sold to pay its debts to a prosperous 
 Northern man, who had " restored " it, 
 and changed the name to Belleville ; and 
 the feet of the Merry Maid never wan 
 dered in that direction now. These things 
 trooped through her mind as she sat in the 
 dark, wishing that she could read young 
 Alexander's book, and chiding herself for 
 wanting anything when her cup was that 
 day so unusually full. A streak of light 
 from the hall fell through the door agape 
 across her wall, and from time to time she 
 looked complacently at her honeysuckles, 
 and thought how well their colors came 
 out. And then Memory, the wizard, 
 carried her back to a certain day when she 
 had sat in an arbor and watched a branch 
 of living honeysuckle sway in the wind of 
 a summer's morning, and parted with the 
 man who had been her promised husband, 
 because she saw that he had gone over to
 
 The her best friend. Coral honeysuckle and 
 
 Merry yellow " custard " honeysuckle mingled 
 Maid of upon that arbor, built in the shape of a 
 Arcady little kiosk, and an established place for 
 flirtations and the like in the annals of 
 Arcady plantation. The crisp clean-cut 
 trumpets of the " coral " stood out against 
 a blue Maryland sky as she looked now, 
 and she could smell the rich breath of the 
 " custard." What's more, she could see 
 the peculiar iris of the young man's eye 
 as he gravely accepted her dismissal, be 
 lieving it to be the freak of a spoiled 
 beauty, and questioning her with a full and 
 honest gaze that withdrew unsatisfied by 
 fact. 
 
 Virginia had been right. The heart 
 that had wavered away from her soon 
 passed into the keeping of another, and 
 Mr. and Mrs. Algernon Thorne had for 
 years lived and flourished among the elect 
 of society in the great metropolis that also 
 sheltered, not far away from their stately 
 dwelling, the friend of their early youth. 
 Soon after Miss Pointdexter's arrival to try 
 her fortune in New York she had presented 
 herself one morning at the portal of Mrs.
 
 Thome's still unregenerate but sufficiently The 
 imposing town house. Recalling the weeks Merry 
 spent by Alicia Nesbitt as the guest of Maid of 
 Arcady where she had first arrived a Arcady 
 meagre and ill-cared-for school-girl, brought 
 home for the holidays by the generous 
 Virginia to save her from the dulness of life 
 in a dull town under a dull step-mother's 
 control, to come and come again every 
 summer, till, as a pretty graduate of eigh 
 teen, she witched away Virginia's lover 
 it seemed to Miss Pointdexter's simple soul 
 that it was very meet and right for her to 
 make a first call on Mrs. Thorne. 
 
 As she had stood wiping her little boots 
 on the Thorne door-mat, Virginia had a 
 curious recollection of once giving the 
 slippers from her own feet that Alida 
 might match a costume and dance in them 
 at a ball. She had often supplemented 
 Alida's scanty wardrobe with gifts from 
 her own, then bounteously supplied with 
 lawn and organdies and tarlatans, when the 
 two were going together upon the round 
 of entertainments of which Arcady in sum 
 mer was the centre. Virginia even remem 
 bered stopping at home from a delightful 
 
 OP]
 
 The excursion on horseback, when Algy Thorne 
 
 Merry was to ride at her bridle rein, to lend her 
 Maid of habit to Alida, who had arrived at Arcady 
 Arcady without one. 
 
 How droll and far away those days 
 seemed now ; and what fun she and Alida 
 would have in reviving their host of mem 
 ories of happy girlhood ! Virginia's heart 
 warmed at these thoughts, which seemed 
 to lift her out of the sordid present back 
 into a time that was the crowning-point of 
 her life's gayety and importance. How 
 could she realize that Mrs. Algy had long 
 since passed from the realm of such homely 
 doings, had put behind her poverty, make 
 shifts, superfluous recollections, and ac 
 quaintances ? 
 
 At any rate, when Virginia rang Alida's 
 door-bell, first, it was to receive on the 
 threshold a woeful check. The smug foot 
 man in his striped canary waistcoat and 
 Burgundy coat and trousers looked at her 
 once, twice, and said he rather thought 
 Mrs. Thorne was "not at 'ome." Virginia, 
 to whom servants were still incidentals, 
 courteously proffered her card, and asked 
 if he would go and see. Whereupon the
 
 Burgundy-colored one allowed himself the The 
 double impertinence of reading her name Merry 
 and surveying her person, then, comparing Maid of 
 notes over his shoulder with an authority Arcady 
 in the background, reasserted the announce 
 ment, "Not at 'ome." 
 
 Virginia went down the high flight of 
 stone steps chilled and mortified in spite of 
 her better judgment. By the time she had 
 reached the street corner she was ashamed 
 of her own annoyance. When she got 
 into a street car to go to her then distant 
 lodging-place, she had cheered herself with 
 the thought that Alida would find her card, 
 would exclaim in sorrow at having missed 
 her near lunch-time, too, when it would 
 have been so nice to keep Virginia, and 
 have a talk about old times and would 
 at once write or call. 
 
 Poor Virginia ! She even thought that 
 Mrs. Thorne would call that afternoon ; 
 and remained in, ready to receive her friend 
 in the boarding-house parlor, hoping that 
 the old lady who made such queer noises in 
 her throat would keep away from it, for once. 
 
 Mrs. Thorne did not call that afternoon, 
 or any afternoon. Nor did she write.
 
 The True, Virginia's card was found by her 
 
 Merry when looking over the contents of an India 
 Maid of china bowl in search of the address of a 
 Arcady man whom she desired to invite, to fill up 
 a vacated place at one of her dinners. (You 
 will at once judge that this was not one of 
 her familiars whom Mrs. Thorne sought 
 in the India china bowl, but a new man, 
 remembered as talking rather well, who 
 might be depended on not to have too 
 many engagements to prevent his coming 
 when summoned late.) How long the card 
 of her early friend had been there Mrs. 
 Thorne had no idea. It had a thumb- 
 mark in one corner, for even the Burgundy- 
 colored ones are not always immaculate at 
 their extremities. It was made of thinnish 
 pasteboard, and was engraved in a script of 
 forgotten date, as follows : 
 
 Miss Pointdexter 
 
 Maryland 
 
 Over the "Maryland" was pencilled, in 
 Virginia's well-remembered handwriting, 
 the New York address. As Mrs. Thorne
 
 read it a surge of recollections swept over The 
 her too. The skim of thin ice that Time Merry 
 lays over those emotions we once thought Maid of 
 flowers of immortality was for a moment Arcady 
 broken. With the poor little shabby card 
 in her hand, and a kind impulse in her 
 heart, she went into her drawing-room to 
 meet some ladies who had come to discuss 
 with her the management of an Assembly 
 they were all to matronize. The card was 
 put down, mislaid, forgotten, remembered 
 again next day, sought, and not found, with 
 almost a feeling of relief that the matter 
 was thus taken out of her hands by acci 
 dent. In plain fact, Mrs. Thorne asked 
 herself what could she do with Jinny Point- 
 dexter without disillusioning her and 
 wounding her ? No doubt the visit had 
 been made long before, and Jinny had left 
 town. At Christmas Mrs. Thorne would 
 buy something really good and pretty, and 
 send it to the last address she had had of 
 Jinny's in the South. But illness came 
 to the house at Christmas, and this good 
 intention, too, went to join the throng of 
 the unfulfilled, and after that, Mrs. Thorne 
 was ashamed, and did nothing at all.
 
 The Once or twice, sitting opposite her lord 
 
 Merry at table, Mrs. Thorne had begun to pave 
 Maid of the way to announcing to him the incident 
 Arcady which she well knew would annoy him 
 thoroughly, and, like the good wife she was, 
 quailed before the idea of spoiling his after- 
 dinner hour, and bringing his displeasure 
 upon herself. So she never got farther 
 than saying, "Of course you remember 
 Virginia Pointdexter." And he had an 
 swered : " I should think I do remember 
 my old sweetheart. What was it they 
 called her down there on the Eastern Shore 
 < The Merry Maid of Arcady ' ? And 
 what have you heard of Miss Jinny lately ? 
 Well, I hope ! A pity she never married, 
 isn't it ? " At this point, Mr. Thome's 
 eye detected a mote in his glass of claret, 
 he had called back the butler to ask if this 
 were surely the Clos Vougeot, and the dis 
 closure of a calamity in the wine-cellar had 
 relegated the old sweetheart to her former 
 land of shades. 
 
 Virginia, ten years after these events, 
 had ceased to feel the sting of the earlier 
 sense of neglect from her old friends. 
 Something had happened, she argued,
 
 meekly ; no doubt Alida had never heard The 
 of her call ; but still she could not bend Merry 
 the Pointdexter pride to the business of Maid of 
 making a new advance. She, like Mrs. Arcady 
 Berry, read in the newspapers of the fine 
 doings of her former associates. There 
 were sons grown and at the university, 
 and a young girl about to make her first 
 appearance in society. 
 
 "The Merry Maid," as she sat gazing 
 out into the night, wondered if one of 
 these carriages rolling up the snow-covered 
 asphalt might not contain her quondam 
 friends returning from a dinner. She fan 
 cied Alida nestling up to Algy inside of it, 
 and talking to him of the beauty, the 
 accomplishments, the prospects, of their 
 intending debutante. She wondered what 
 it would be to feel that exquisite throbbing 
 of mother's pride in a young blossom put 
 forth from the parental tree a fair round 
 creature, of soft hues, with no lines upon 
 her face, no furrows in her soul. Invol 
 untarily she laid her hand on her own 
 heart, as if to still its beatings for these 
 unseen scions of Algy and Alida had be 
 come her dream-children, her romance.
 
 The Until young Alexander came into her life 
 
 Merry her fancy had fed itself with the doings of 
 Maid of the Thorne boys and girls in most proprie- 
 Arcady tary fashion, and to the exclusion of all 
 other young people. 
 
 Young Alexander, charging with the 
 full vigor of two-and-twenty up the third 
 flight of Mrs. Penfold's stairs at half-past 
 ten o'clock P.M., saw the light coming out 
 of Miss Virginia's room, and the lone 
 figure sitting wrapped in a shawl in the 
 window. Quietly she came out to meet 
 him, traces of unwonted excitement visible 
 in her face. Under the hall gas he thought 
 he had never seen the " old lady " look so 
 bright and comely. 
 
 " I would not go to bed till I'd shown 
 it to you," she said, leading him to the 
 door of her little kingdom. 
 
 " And I was hoping you'd be up to get 
 these while they are fresh," he answered, 
 putting into her hand his button-hole posy 
 of double white violets, still deliciously 
 crisp and fragrant, which she received with 
 pathetic rapture. 
 
 " Oh, my dear boy, how could you 
 know there's nothing I love better than 
 
 [**]
 
 white violets ! " she exclaimed, softly, al- The 
 though there was upon that floor nobody Merry 
 to disturb. The old gentleman who had Maid of 
 the back room snored, and was then snor- Arcady 
 ing like a trooper, and the lady's-maid of 
 the first-floor lodger in the back hall bed 
 room slept far too well, as her mistress 
 had had occasion to remark. 
 
 " I put it in my overcoat when I left 
 the house where I was dining," he said, 
 " and the fresh air brought them out. I 
 thought of you when I found it by my 
 plate. By-the-way, Miss Pointdexter, you 
 ought to know these people I've been with 
 to-night. All you Virginians and Mary- 
 landers know one another " 
 
 " As well say that all Chinese and Jap 
 anese know one another," she answered. 
 " Who are they ? " 
 
 " The Algernon Thornes, who live a 
 couple of blocks up the avenue from here. 
 One of the ' successful ' Southerners who 
 came to New York just after the war. Old 
 friends of my father's, but I never met 
 them till the other day. This was one of 
 Mrs. Thome's little dinners, not her grand 
 
 * D 
 
 affairs, and I sat at table next to the girl
 
 who is to make a first appearance a fort 
 night hence." 
 Maid of " Oh, I'm so glad you've met her ! " 
 Arcady cried Miss Pointdexter, breathlessly. 
 
 " You do know them then ? That's 
 good, because it won't bore you so much 
 for me to talk to you about them. You 
 know I've told you about this girl and the 
 other that I've met ; but this time it's all 
 up with me. I'm gone." 
 
 "Isn't she lovely?" said Miss Pointdex 
 ter, exultingly. 
 
 " Lovely is no word for it," said young 
 Alexander, his eyes shining with fun and 
 earnest. 
 
 "To-morrow you shall tell me every 
 thing you will," said Miss Pointdexter, 
 giving him a glimpse of her new furnish 
 ings to end the colloquy. 
 
 " I like their calling her Champe. The 
 way Virginians use surnames for girls is 
 sometimes ridiculous, but this time just 
 right." 
 
 " Champe, is it ? " queried Miss Point 
 dexter. 
 
 " Yes ; didn't you know, or is it some 
 thing recent their using her middle name ? "
 
 "Marian Champe was his mother's The 
 name," answered Miss Pointdexter, dream- Merry 
 ily ; " a famous beauty of the lower James. Maid of 
 I remember her portrait; a long neck like Arcady 
 a swan, a blue low-cut gown, pearls of 
 course, and one brown curl escaping be 
 hind the ear, with brown eyes and arched 
 eyebrows." 
 
 "Why, you must be a witch," said 
 young Alexander. "That's just what 
 I've been seeing, blue gown and all, from 
 soup to finish of this evening. She told 
 me her father bought that little string of 
 pearls on the Ponte Vecchio in Florence, 
 last year, but- they wouldn't let her wear 
 it until now." 
 
 " Oh, tell me more," sighed Miss Point- 
 dexter, with parted lips. Then remem 
 bering the hour, she dismissed the lad, and 
 shut herself in with his white violets. 
 
 From that a fresh crop of sentiment 
 and hope bourgeoned in the old maid's 
 heart. She lay awake wondering if she 
 might not hazard a new attempt to bring 
 herself into relation with the Thornes. 
 A mighty longing to see the sole daughter 
 of their house and home took possession
 
 The of her and nerved her to the effort. The 
 
 Merry very next day she penned a neat little note 
 Maid of in her fine calligraphy, making no allusion 
 Arcady to the past or to the fact that she had been 
 so long a resident of New York, and say 
 ing it would give her true pleasure to see 
 Alida and Alida's children in their home. 
 And after the note was dropped into the 
 letter-box at the corner, she went on to 
 her place of business, feeling as if green 
 grass were growing upon Madison Avenue 
 pavements. 
 
 This time there was no delay in Mrs. 
 Thome's acknowledgment of Miss Point- 
 dexter's presence in New York. She came 
 during visiting-hours, which of course were 
 Virginia's working-hours, the following 
 day. One card of hers, with one repre 
 senting Algernon, was left at Miss Point- 
 dexter's boarding-house. On the lady's 
 card was pencilled : "So sorry to miss you. 
 Do come in to lunch on Thursday, at 
 half-past one." 
 
 On Thursday, at half-past one, Miss 
 Pointdexter was giving out rolls of work 
 to her waiting women, and when later she 
 called at Mrs. Thome's, the lady was natu-
 
 rally absent upon her rounds of Thursday The 
 teas. Then Mrs. Thorne wrote a note, Merry 
 a kind but manifestly perfunctory missive, Maid of 
 in which she deplored Virginia's engage- Arcady 
 ments and her own, said they would fix an 
 early day for dinner, and enclosed a card 
 to Miss Pointdexter for the " At Home," 
 a week distant, when Miss Marion Champe 
 Thorne was to make her bow to her 
 mother's friends. 
 
 Before her room had been new papered 
 and her window new hung, in the days 
 when she slept in a painted wood bed 
 stead, not this smart little affair with brass 
 rods and knobs, Miss Pointdexter would 
 not have ventured to think of herself as 
 a possible element of a fashionable New 
 York tea. Now she took it into serious 
 consideration. The chief question was, 
 of course, what this one of the vast army 
 of Eve's self-supporting daughters should 
 wear. Her three-year-old serge, with the 
 new velveteen yoke, and ruffle around the 
 skirt, was dismissed upon its first halting 
 appearance in the line of vision of her 
 mind's eye. Unless Miss Pointdexter of 
 Arcady could go into the world in some-
 
 The thing at least one-half silk, Miss Point- 
 
 Merry dexter of Arcady would stay at home. 
 
 Maid of After hours she visited a large shop in 
 
 Arcady Twenty-third Street, where she had been 
 
 told frocks were to be had, with a skirt 
 
 well hung, and the stuff wherewith to 
 
 fashion a bodice, at a moderate price. 
 
 Eagerly, tremblingly, moistening her dry 
 
 tongue as she awaited the answer of the 
 
 young person from whom she inquired the 
 
 "moderate" price of one of these inchoate 
 
 garments, Virginia heard it in dismay. 
 
 Then, boldly, she went down stairs and 
 
 inquired the cost by the yard of black 
 
 moire antique. 
 
 To appreciate her daring, the man 
 whose eye passes over these struggles for 
 vanished gentility must be told that moire 
 antique is a web of pure silk with a pat 
 tern like encroaching waves and glistering 
 side-lights; that it has, or should have, a 
 body and consistency betokening long en 
 durance with continuing suavity ; that it 
 " comes high," as the shopman told Miss 
 Virginia, after a glance at her modest 
 figure. 
 
 That night she revolved ways and means
 
 of getting hold of a sum of money she The 
 might spend outright, without regard to Merry 
 her provision for the future. Some time Maid of 
 before, young Alexander had merrily told Arcady 
 her of his selling to a book-dealer a scarce 
 old edition of "Father Prout," and putting 
 the result into a new frock-coat. Down 
 in the treasure-chest under the old maid's 
 iron bed reposed two or three calf-bound 
 volumes with fine tooled edges that she 
 had brought with her from the wreck of 
 her father's library at Arcady. That they 
 were valuable she knew, but having, some 
 thirty odd years before, been told by her 
 father that h had rather she would not 
 take them from the shelves, it had not 
 occurred to Virginia to turn over their 
 leaves since. At first she thought of 
 asking young Alexander to dispose of one 
 of these, a French book, profusely illus 
 trated, mellow in tint, and altogether rare 
 and fine; but a feeling that she would not 
 like the boy to receive from her hand what 
 her father had forbidden her deterred poor 
 Miss Pointdexter. She bravely offered it 
 herself, turning aside with a pink flush 
 when the dealer looked it over, although,
 
 The in truth, it was not so dangerous to morals 
 
 Merry as many a fashionable novel penned by 
 Maid of fairest hands to-day. The book-plate ex- 
 Arcady amined, the dealer asked, " This is your 
 own, madam, I presume ? " 
 
 " My father's," Virginia hastened to 
 say, displaying a card. " As I have never 
 read it, I don't know what it is worth. 
 But you will know." 
 
 The dealer did know, and to his credit 
 gave her at least one-half what he also 
 knew he could get for it, before nightfall, 
 from an enthusiastic amateur from whom 
 he had standing orders. Virginia hastened 
 home, having withdrawn for a moment 
 behind a rack of volumes to pin in the 
 bosom of her gown the envelope contain 
 ing the sum she deemed fabulous. 
 
 Here I must recall the one evidence 
 of my heroine's unfitness to be a heroine. 
 If a suggestion did tickle her conscience 
 that it would be better to put this money 
 aside for emergencies of age and illness, or 
 that she had no right to squander it in 
 dress when others were suffering for want 
 of clothing, Virginia for once in her life 
 turned a deaf ear to the good angel. She 
 
 [**]
 
 resolved to sow one wild oat and be done The 
 with it ! She bought moire antique enough Merry 
 for a full gown, and committed it to the Maid of 
 hands of a little French woman. Now, a Arcady 
 bonnet. " What's a bonnet ? " said Miss 
 Pointdexter, dashingly. " Two feathers 
 and a rose." The little French woman 
 had a compatriot a lesser French woman 
 who would throw these together for a 
 song. Gloves, five and three-quarters, 
 pale pearl with black stitching, and the 
 old jacket would cover all, and be left in 
 the cloak-room at the house. 
 
 While the great affair was pending, 
 Virginia went" about her work with a light 
 ness of step, a brightness of face, a joy- 
 ousness of speech, that surprised those 
 accustomed to her quiet ways. Young 
 Alexander, entering into her affair with 
 zeal, shared her anxiety lest the " second 
 fitting" should reveal some weakness on 
 the untried artist's part, and rejoiced that 
 their common concern proved to be un 
 founded. "It was the same with my 
 coat," he said, in one of their whispered 
 conferences upon the fourth-floor landing. 
 "The main thing is that your fellow don't
 
 The pinch you under the arms, you know, and 
 
 Merry that the tails should be long, but not too 
 
 Maid of long." 
 
 Arcady " Then you, who go out so much into 
 
 the world," ventured Miss Pointdexter, 
 while young Alexander expanded under 
 the flattering imputation, " you should 
 know if there is any essential matter to 
 recommend to her. For, truly, she is so 
 determined and talks so fast, I am afraid 
 I have overlooked something I ought to 
 
 o O 
 
 exact." 
 
 " There's only one thing I'd tell her to 
 be sure not to miss a pocket," said the 
 brilliant young Alexander. " Of course, 
 Miss Pointdexter, you are going to let me 
 be your escort to the tea ! I want to show 
 you the house a bit, and ask you if you 
 ever saw anything so odd and pretty as a 
 little gold patch in Miss Thome's hair just 
 where it crinkles on the left side of the 
 parting. You've noticed, of course, that 
 she is the only girl that wears her hair 
 parted, and not chopped off in front : that 
 little white line is as fine and polished as 
 an egg-shell." 
 
 Miss Pointdexter here turned the con- 
 
 [*]
 
 versation. She could not bring herself to The 
 admit that she had actually never seen the Merry 
 fairy about whom the young man daily Maid of 
 prattled, and around whom her loving Arcady 
 thoughts continually turned like tendrils 
 of convolvulus. 
 
 When she found that young Alexander 
 could not leave the office where he was 
 employed downtown in time to do more 
 than " look in " at the Algernon Thorne 
 " tea," Miss Virginia agreed with him to 
 meet her there and bring her home. It 
 was hardly to be expected that she could 
 be satisfied with a bird's dip of the beak 
 into this brimming fountain of society, 
 her first social recognition in ten long 
 arid years. 
 
 When Miss Pointdexter reached her 
 boarding-house on the eventful afternoon 
 an hour earlier than usual, by especial 
 dispensation of authority, she ran up stairs 
 as lightly as a thistle-down before a sum 
 mer wind. There on the bed lay the new 
 gown, crisply folded, the new bandbox 
 containing the new bonnet beside it ! 
 Blood surged to Miss Pointdexter's head 
 and tingled in her ears the poor old 
 
 [37]
 
 The blue blood, so derided in contempora- 
 
 Merry neous satire, that had yet done its share 
 Maid of to keep the forlorn little gentlewoman's 
 Arcady head erect and her heart stanch, in the 
 face of adverse fortune. 
 
 It did not seem credible that she, 
 hitherto achieving a new bonnet when 
 the frock was a year behind it, and a 
 new jacket a year later still, should have 
 at once struck the balance of securing a 
 brand-new exterior shell. She shook out 
 the glossy swishing folds of the skirt, ad 
 mired the bodice, took out the trifle mis 
 called a head-covering, and gloated over 
 them inwardly as a picture-lover does with 
 his Corot or Cazin, a porcelain-collector 
 his hawthorn jar, a book-expert his Elze 
 vir of a first edition. She handled them 
 grudgingly, with sentient finger-tips. She 
 found herself sighing that it was almost a 
 pity to put on her poor frail body objects 
 of art so inspiring, so suggestive. But 
 the toilet achieved, what a transformation 
 it accomplished in the wearer! Even 
 Virginia's modest eyes saw that her little 
 mirror gave back a fashionable dame, one 
 who, she thought, would have been worthy
 
 to lie back" in the corner of a victoria, or The 
 drop in for a cup of tea with no matter Merry 
 who the high-priestess at the tea table. Maid of 
 Somebody a day or two since at this Arcady 
 writing it is midwinter found in the 
 Central Park two dandelions in bloom 
 under a skim of ice. Every year the dar 
 ing Alp-climber picks fresh edelweiss be 
 neath the snow wreaths, and these fingers 
 have abstracted a lovely bunch of pink 
 glacier-blumen from under an arch of 
 frozen crystal near the summit of Mount 
 Saint Bernard. Miss Pointdexter's sud 
 den expansion of youth and beauty was 
 like these. -Her eyes shone, her color 
 came, her whole face and form were in 
 stinct with joyous animation. The little 
 looking-glass framed again " The Merry 
 Maid of Arcady." 
 
 Looking out of her window, she saw 
 falling a few flakes of snow a depress 
 ing spectacle in view of the fact that she 
 must proceed on foot to the festal scene. 
 There was no help for it; she must tie up 
 her bonnet in an old brown veil, kilt 
 up her stately trail to walking length, put 
 on her ugly water-proof, and, her glory 
 
 [JP]
 
 The thus obscured, flit under a shabby umbrella 
 
 Merry to her old friend's door. Virginia could 
 Maid of have hired a carriage but for the treat she 
 Arcady had given herself of sending a bunch of 
 lilies-of-the-valley to the debutante. 
 
 As she plodded along the slippery, oily 
 street, snow turning to mud as it touched 
 earth, the wind blowing her umbrella 
 rudely, a corner of her new gown escap 
 ing to trail on the ground and be gathered 
 up again with difficulty, another woman 
 would have pronounced the game not 
 worth the candle. At the corner nearest 
 Mrs. Thome's she stood, whipped by the 
 wind, waiting a chance to cross, while car 
 nage and brougham followed each other in 
 slow succession to the awning. Inside 
 these vehicles the faces brought so close 
 to hers wore not at all the hilarious ex 
 pression to be expected from the possess 
 ors of luxurious high-swung vehicles that 
 lift out of the mire and bear so swiftly 
 away from Black Care their fortunate 
 occupants. Haggard, self-sufficient, dull, 
 vulgar, purse-proud ; haggard again, again, 
 again ; all restless ; now a young and un- 
 lined face, but even that set with the look
 
 of striving after what was not, and with The 
 supreme indifference to what was, includ- Merry 
 ing little Miss Virginia, who, with the rest Mend of 
 of humanity in the streets, stood patiently Arcady 
 awaiting the pleasure of fur-caped menials 
 to pass. 
 
 At the opera, walking in the streets, 
 driving in the Park, wherever Fashion 
 has h.er dress-parade, the real man or 
 woman does not show. To behold him 
 or her relaxed into the unpostured self, 
 one must adopt Miss Virginia's attitude 
 toward the favored class. 
 
 " Dear, dear," said the little lady to 
 herself, " these can't be the gay folk old 
 Mrs. Parker reads aloud to us about, 
 after breakfast on Sunday mornings at 
 the boarding-house, from that column in 
 the paper that shines in all our eyes ! " 
 
 When she reached the awning, and 
 pushed her timid way between the broad 
 backs of the footmen lining either side of 
 its opening, the first symptom of stage- 
 fright she had ever known assailed her. 
 It seemed it was so formidable to go up 
 those steps under the tunnel of striped 
 canvas, over the red carpet, already sodden 
 
 O]
 
 with wet from irreverent feet that had not 
 come in carriages. Nobody noticed her: 
 nobody in New York has time to notice 
 an unfamiliar face : and in this humble 
 fashion Virginia glided across Alida's 
 threshold. 
 
 Waved into a cloak-room upon the left 
 of the entranceway, she found the maids 
 all busy, and in a corner, under a Meis- 
 sonier, she took off her overshoes. A 
 large and supercilious French woman re 
 ceived the bundle composed of Miss Point- 
 dexter's lendings, looking with surprise at 
 the butterfly emerged from a grub. As 
 Virginia followed up the staircase a num 
 ber of other women, who exchanged little 
 bobbing nods of recognition, and chatted 
 about things seen and things to see, a 
 sense of great desolation took hold of her. 
 In the sea of heads beyond there was not 
 a familiar face. "You will find Mrs. 
 Thorne at the hend of the 'all, madam," 
 mechanically repeated a servant at the top 
 of the stairs. They were in a wide hall, 
 panelled and gilded, and hung with tapes 
 tries and living garlands. Virginia, who 
 had somehow thought she might find her
 
 lilies-of-the-valley, fruit of true self-sacri- The 
 fice, in a recognizable place, on a mantel- Merry 
 piece or piano, or the like, and be thanked Maid of 
 for them with a smile from her dream- Arcady 
 child, felt her little provincial silliness 
 wither at a touch. Such flowers! such 
 numbers, variety, perfume, color bou 
 quets stacked on every available place 
 sheafs of lilies, ropes of roses, violets wast 
 ing their breath by hundreds ; what could 
 be done with them, the brief hour of dis 
 play over ? Oh, the hospitals ! the wan 
 or fevered creatures to whose pale hands 
 the touch of one of these ignored roses 
 would bring delight ; the dull work-rooms, 
 where young girls comely as any here 
 would conjure poetry and romance on 
 the breath of these hidden violets ; the 
 tenement-houses, in whose squalid dusk 
 these unnoticed lilies would shine as fair 
 as the annunciation lilies shone to Mary. 
 And then, drawing a long inhalation of 
 delight, Miss Pointdexter thought of the 
 women like herself, contrasted their joy 
 over the least of this efflorescence with 
 the hurrying indifference of the guests 
 who now jostled by without giving it a
 
 The glance. Then, confused, charmed, daz- 
 
 Merry zled, a turn of the crowd pushed her 
 Maid of before Alida and Alida's girl. 
 Arcady Mrs. Thorne had achieved prosperity 
 
 and fat. The slim esp'iegle school-girl 
 was merged into the broad-waisted, full- 
 bosomed matron; the skin had reddened; 
 the flaxen locks were dull and few. Be 
 side her, Virginia looked like a slightly 
 ruffled but still perfect white rose. How 
 she looked Virginia never thought; the 
 tide of years rushed back, and she was 
 only Virginia clasping her dear Alida's 
 hand. 
 
 Mrs. Thorne did not welcome the little 
 show of emotion Miss Pointdexter could 
 not restrain. What a place for moist 
 eyes, for a trembling voice, above all, for 
 a kiss ! In the twinkling of an eye she 
 had drawn back, surveyed her old friend 
 with wonder where she got that well-fit 
 ting modish gown, noticed that Virginia's 
 hair had not turned, that her teeth were 
 still good, that she had few if any lines 
 around her mouth. 
 
 " So good of you to come," she said, as 
 she said to a hundred and one others there 
 
 [*]
 
 that day. "You must let me present to The 
 you my daughter. Champe, Miss Point- Merry 
 dexter is a lady we knew in Maryland Maid of 
 once. You have heard us speak of Mary- Arcady 
 land." 
 
 At last Virginia looked into the eyes of 
 her dream-child, and felt her hand. None 
 but her own starved self could tell how 
 she longed to find in the girl what she 
 had lost in the mother. She had a glimpse 
 only of the vision young Alexander had 
 described with, for a young admirer, singu 
 lar accuracy this rare young girl, stand 
 ing in her pink robes against a screen 
 of white azaleas; and immediately new 
 names were called, and the very doleful 
 Maid of Arcady was pushed away. She 
 stood in ambush for a while, behind an 
 orange-tree set in a tub, and looked at 
 the heads of the company rising out of a 
 surging sea of velvet and cloth and silk 
 and fur. No one spoke to her. In the 
 Arcady neighborhood, a friend's guest was 
 a friend; here one must have something 
 more than a new moire antique gown and 
 a place on Mrs. Thorne"s invitation list 
 to be recognized. Once or twice, long-
 
 The ing to speak, Miss Pointdexter looked 
 
 Merry with her ready beaming smile into the 
 Maid of face of some woman, crushed and impris- 
 Arcady oned in her neighborhood, to be met by 
 an absolutely blank stare. And yet the 
 talk, the clack, went on deafeningly. She 
 had never heard so many plans, so much 
 to do, so much fatigue expressed, so many 
 engagements made for future meetings. 
 Yet nobody spoke to her. And it was 
 plain that among these were the charita 
 ble stars, the church members, the famous 
 philanthropists of society for was not 
 all " society " at Mrs. Thome's ? 
 
 "It's a perfect menagerie," she heard 
 some one say. " All sets, all sorts ; smart 
 people, politicians, artists, literary folk. 
 They've swept up everybody they know, 
 with a broom, and won't have to be both 
 ered with 'em again this year." 
 
 " Why does any one ever come to teas ? " 
 answered the lady addressed. " You know 
 how Dr. Holmes describes them, 4 Giggle, 
 gabble, gobble, git.' Early in the season, 
 perhaps, when we've forgotten how awful 
 they are since the year before, we may be 
 excused. But after the first half-dozen of 
 
 [**]
 
 the new season, they become hideous The 
 simply hideous ! " Merry 
 
 Virginia's feet ached before the human Maid of 
 current carried her into the dining-room, Arcady 
 where several young girls were officiating 
 over tea and cakes and ices. There in a 
 corner she found an empty chair, and 
 dropped into it. A number of young fel 
 lows had come in, and were devoting them 
 selves to the tea-makers, and little heed 
 was taken of those who did not push for 
 their own refection. Never in her life 
 had Miss Pointdexter's hungry soul so 
 longed for a kind word, a smile, a recog 
 nizing look; -the cup of tea that might 
 have acceptably accompanied it was a sec 
 ondary consideration. What would it cost 
 one of these pretty, dainty daughters of 
 wealth and fashion to step out of her little 
 narrow place in so-called society and drop 
 a crumb of compassion to the unfriended 
 stranger? Why had not their mothers, 
 who had brought them up with every other 
 accomplishment, taken time to teach them 
 that a gracious courtesy of manner may 
 gild refined gold and paint the lily ? In 
 her lonely corner, as these thoughts trooped
 
 through her mind, Virginia leaned her face 
 into a mound of bride roses and left two 
 
 Maid of pearly tears upon them. 
 
 Arcady " Here you are at last ! " said a cheerful 
 
 voice, and young Alexander stood before 
 her. She thought he showed well among 
 the other youngsters, so tall and straight, 
 with his moist golden hair forming into a 
 slight wave on his forehead, his kind eyes, 
 his strong mouth curved into a pleasant 
 smile, a flower in his coat. " I asked Miss 
 Thorne if she saw you, but she wasn't 
 sure. But then, with such a crowd com 
 ing up, how could the poor girl know one 
 from another ? Tea here, please," he 
 added, beckoning a waiter. " I hope you 
 haven't had it." 
 
 Miss Pointdexter thought tea would 
 be nectar drunk in such company. She 
 smiled ; her face grew radiant. While 
 they were waiting, a gentleman brought 
 an old lady (" One of the war-horses of 
 the smart set," young Alexander whis 
 pered slyly in Virginia's ear. " Looks 
 like somebody's cook, doesn't she ? ") into 
 the room. At once Virginia saw that her 
 old lover was before her. He distinguished 
 
 Ml
 
 her at a glance, and came over, holding The 
 out his hand. Merry 
 
 " My wife told me you were in town," Maid of 
 he said, courteously. " So good of you Arcady 
 to come. And I really think you haven't 
 changed a bit. Don't you think the Hun 
 garians are playing too loud ? Shouldn't 
 they be further up the stairs ? Ah, Mr. 
 Alexander ! glad to see your father's son 
 here. The South is very kind to us to 
 day. We must see you often, Miss Point- 
 dexter ; hope you will be here all winter. 
 Yes, those Hungarians are too loud. I 
 must go and have them moved. Good 
 bye. So good of you to come." 
 
 " Here's your tea," said young Alexan 
 der. " Will you take cream or lemon ? " 
 
 Virginia did not see the servant at her 
 elbow holding a tray ; she was in a sort 
 of wounded maze. She turned quickly, 
 and at the same moment the man moved 
 forward. Ttyere was a collision, and tea, 
 sugar, cream, sliced lemon, cakes, ices, and 
 bread-and-butter were swept into Miss 
 Pointdexter's lap, and ran in rivulets or 
 formed in islands all over her new gown. 
 
 There was nothing to be done but to 
 
 149}
 
 The get out of the room. Young Alexander, 
 
 Merry offering ardent sympathy, went with her 
 Maid of to the cloak-room, and begged to take her 
 Arcady home. 
 
 " No ; I insist, I insist. You sha'n't 
 go back with me when you have only 
 just arrived." 
 
 She managed to shake him off, and, 
 hurrying into her old despised water-proof 
 and galoshes and taking her old umbrella, 
 to go away, quite unconscious of the pity 
 ing superiority of the maid. 
 
 As the front door closed behind her it 
 cut short a wailing strain from the Hun 
 garian band that might well have been the 
 echo of the cry within her heart. The 
 snow fell thicker as the Merry Maid of 
 Arcady pushed her way between the foot 
 men around the awning, and passed out 
 into the night.
 
 Worrosquoyacke
 
 Worrosquoyacke 
 
 Part I 
 
 ONE evening in November, when the Worros- 
 world and his wife and the ramifi- quoyacke 
 cations of his family, to say nothing of 
 his less-quoted attendants, the flesh and 
 the devil, had" surged into the Madison 
 Square Garden for the Horse Show, New 
 York's great social function, Miss Camilla 
 Godfrey sat in a corner of her aunt's box, 
 looking out upon the brilliant scene with 
 a certain weariness of spirit. She was a 
 girl of twenty-one, who had begun her life 
 in society three years before with many 
 aspirations, chief among them the desire 
 to avoid commonplace, and was about to 
 disappoint herself and please her friends 
 by marrying a most conventional man. 
 Sydney Blackburn, who was consider-
 
 ably past thirty, had exhausted first im 
 pressions of many foreign countries, and 
 was now laboriously engaged in trying to 
 find out the merits of his own. He was a 
 well-born, well-mannered, well-to-do club 
 man, not subject to violent emotion of any 
 sort, agreeable in a lazy way, and sufficiently 
 good-looking. Add to this that he had a 
 collection of jades, was an amateur in fine 
 horses, and had recently purchased a stock- 
 farm in Virginia and one has all that 
 the world in general was able to make out 
 of Miss Godfrey's reputed fiance. 
 
 Camilla's aunt, the Countess Cagliari, 
 who sat in a front seat, leaning over the 
 rail and talking in the liveliest fashion to 
 one man after another who stopped to 
 do her homage, although now almost a 
 stranger to her native city, had been a 
 famous New York belle of a generation 
 past. Originally the beautiful Elizabeth 
 Godfrey, younger sister of Camilla's father, 
 and of an influential family of old Knicker 
 bocker stock, she had, about eighteen years 
 before, enjoyed almost a monopoly of quo 
 tation as the most original girl in society. 
 People of Camilla's date, who heard this
 
 story handed on, tried to imagine any one Worros- 
 of their contemporaneous acquaintance quoyacke 
 holding the palm for anything in New 
 York, and gave it up. There were quite 
 too many white swans in the current now 
 to single out one from among the flock. 
 But people of Elizabeth Godfrey's day had 
 shorter visiting-lists, and knew each other 
 better, and remembered each other's ante 
 cedents. They could have told you that, 
 while the Godfreys were still in enjoy 
 ment of an autocratic sway over society, 
 Elizabeth, the beauty, was supposed to 
 have been engaged to some man who 
 " threw her over," and had thereupon 
 married Count Cagliari, an authenticated 
 nobleman holding an excellent position at 
 the Italian Court. Left a widow two 
 years before, the Countess had remained 
 in seclusion on the Cagliari estates until 
 her tears were definitely dried, and had 
 now returned to her old home to look 
 with curious eyes upon its transformation. 
 When I say old home, I do not refer 
 specifically to the well-known Godfrey 
 house, the scene of so much entertaining 
 in bygone years, at the corner of
 
 Worros- Street and Fifth Avenue. That had been 
 quoyacke sold upon the death of Camilla's grand 
 papa, and with fresh paint, large bow- 
 windows, an " American basement " 
 entrance of the approved new style, and 
 an extension with a conservatory built out 
 behind, had passed into a higher state of 
 existence. Of the sons and daughters of 
 the family, all were married and scattered, 
 and the Countess had quite too much 
 knowledge of the world to want, in any 
 case, to take up her permanent abode with 
 one of her brothers or sisters after this 
 interval of separated tastes and habits. 
 So she had hired a pretty flat, stocked it 
 with carved wood and marqueterle and gild 
 ing and brocade transferred from her Roman 
 palazzo, and had told her brother Charles 
 and his wife to count on her as a chaperon 
 for Camilla, whenever she might be needed. 
 Camilla, upon first glance at her long- 
 expatriated aunt, wondered how she could 
 ever have been called such a radiant 
 beauty. The rose-bloom of the lady's 
 cheeks had faded, the childlike gold of 
 her locks had given place to a pale ash- 
 brown, obviously thinner about the temples.
 
 There were, even, at times when the Worros- 
 Countess' face was in repose, or when she quoyacke 
 was over-tired, a variety of tiny imprints of 
 time visible upon its fair surface. But 
 then, on the other hand, her features were 
 rarely in repose. Camilla found in her 
 aunt a most charming animation of mind 
 and manner. She contrasted her with her 
 own mother, for example, to the disadvan 
 tage of the admirable dame. How dull 
 Mrs. Godfrey seemed, standing inside her 
 fine portal at a reception, or presiding over 
 her large formal dinners, of which three 
 were regularly given every month of the 
 season, by comparison with her graceful 
 sister-in-law, at the Countess' "five 
 o'clocks " and little feasts that were so 
 magically pleasant. 
 
 Mrs. Charles Godfrey had seen no cause 
 to regret the sale of the Godfrey patrimo 
 nial mansion. She had herself inherited 
 from her father a most worthy mer 
 chant who had died content without set 
 ting foot across the threshold of New 
 York " smart " society a corner house 
 farther up Fifth Avenue, newer and in 
 every way more desirable, she thought, in
 
 Worros- which her husband had quietly hung up 
 
 quoyacke his hat upon marrying the heiress. Here, 
 
 Camilla had always lived, removing to 
 
 Newport for the summers they did not 
 
 spend abroad. 
 
 Until her aunt had returned to New 
 York, Miss Godfrey had accustomed her 
 self to think of family life as an extin 
 guisher upon everything that offered a 
 gleam of variety in thought, habit, or ex 
 pression. Her brothers and sisters were 
 excellent reproductions of their mother. 
 Her father, a man of no vivacity of mind, 
 had settled at home into the channel made 
 for him by his wife, and, abroad, found his 
 chief interest in the bank of which he was 
 the reputable head. Camilla, an anomaly 
 in her household, had by now, despairing 
 of changing matters there, begun to think 
 she might better order them to her own 
 liking in her own establishment. 
 
 Two of her sisters had already married 
 and were the proprietors of unexciting hus 
 bands enshrined behind respectable brown- 
 stone fronts. True, the more lately 
 married of them had adorned her brown- 
 stone front with a modern stoop, built 
 
 [**]
 
 with steps turning sidewise, and a door Worros- 
 half covered with iron grill-work of the quoyacke 
 most recent pattern; but even that did 
 not enliven Camilla's visits to the house. 
 
 There had not been lacking suitors for 
 our difficult young lady's hand. There 
 had been two proposals in New York and 
 one in Newport during the past season (as 
 her mother was fond of narrating to her 
 spouse), either of which would have been 
 as good a match as Laura's or Charlotte's. 
 But Camilla thought if she could do no 
 better than Laura or Charlotte she would 
 coif St. Catherine's tresses for all eternity. 
 Her brothers-in-law who were in real 
 ity estimable young men excited in her 
 the liveliest sense of boredom. Laura's 
 boy failed to interest her, and Charlotte's 
 girl, who was the image of her papa, sent 
 her young aunt out of the nursery with a 
 new perception of the vacuity of earthly 
 joys. And now, in spite of all, she was 
 said to be engaged to Sydney Blackburn. 
 
 Before my poor heroine is condemned 
 as a very unreasonable and morbid young 
 person, let me make haste to explain that, 
 in her eyes, the crowning offence of the
 
 Worros- good people who composed her family 
 quoyacke circle was their worship of, and blind sub 
 mission to, the petty standards that control 
 a very small circle of metropolitans 
 a sadly common complaint, indicating a 
 mental state that would be summed up by 
 a plain-speaking person like Thackeray in 
 the plain word " snobbism." Mr. Black 
 burn was, at least, no snob. 
 
 What a comfort it had been to find in 
 her gracious and charming Aunt Elizabeth 
 a quick understanding of the things that 
 vexed Camilla's soul. Far too well- 
 mannered to make plain comment upon 
 the weakness of her form-loving American 
 relatives, Madame Cagliari yet allowed her 
 niece to feel her tactful sympathy, and to 
 be sustained by her superior judgment in 
 all such matters. To-night, as they sat 
 together looking down upon the crowded 
 promenade encircling the ellipse, and 
 around at the rows of boxes where 
 fashion rioted in grotesque form and color 
 of attire, Camilla met in the older lady's 
 eyes an expression of dismay answering to 
 hers. 
 
 " My dear girl ! " she exclaimed, " the 
 
 [tfo]
 
 half had not been told me of the exuber- Worros- 
 ance of overdressing here. Why, most of quoyacke 
 them have come in velvet and lace and 
 satin to what is actually a stable-yard ! 
 How dull we must appear in our plain 
 little tailor-gowns ! Pray look at the out 
 rageous woman coming toward us in the 
 crowd. The little fat one, I mean, who 
 has those enormous frills to her cape 
 and bows on her hat of every color; 
 why, I beg your pardon, it's your sister 
 Charlotte." 
 
 "Yes, it is Charlotte," said Camilla, 
 woefully. " And she is perfectly satisfied 
 with that outfit because she had it of 
 Madame Leonie, who dresses the De 
 Veres. Laura's new costume is just as 
 bad, and they are both charmed with 
 them. What can I do, Aunt Elizabeth ? " 
 
 " Nothing, if they are happy. Believe 
 me, my dear, it is only in America that 
 people carry the sins of their near rela 
 tions. It is rococo to be sensitive upon 
 such minor points. There goes your 
 father, my good brother Charles. Even if 
 he has that crumpled, office-worn look so 
 many New York men wear in middle life, 
 
 [6,]
 
 Worros- he is handsome and distingue, and you, my 
 quoyacke child, get your looks from him." 
 
 " I never wanted to look like a Godfrey 
 so much as since I have known you, Aunt 
 Elizabeth," said the girl, smiling. 
 
 " Here comes our friend, Blackburn, 
 after his survey of his hunter who is to 
 jump presently and win laurels for his 
 master. Do you know, Camilla, I like 
 my future nephew immensely." 
 
 " Wait until he is your nephew before 
 you feel obliged to approve of him," an 
 swered her niece, coloring a little hotly. 
 
 " What are you going to do with him, 
 if not marry him ? After all, he is a 
 gentleman, he has no affectations, he does 
 not stake his earthly happiness upon what 
 other New Yorkers do and say ; he will 
 make an admirable husband, and you can 
 travel half your time." 
 
 "I recognize those facts," said Camilla, 
 briefly. Further than this no one had yet 
 brought her to go in discussing the prob 
 abilities of her future relations with 
 Sydney Blackburn. 
 
 As he came up the stairway nearest 
 them and along the passage behind the
 
 boxes, the two women saw that he was Worros- 
 accompanied by a young man of surpris- quoyacke 
 ing and unusual good looks. Of medium 
 height, slim of figure, erect with a sugges 
 tion of military training, the stranger's 
 clear pale skin and rather melancholy dark 
 eyes, his dress more unstudied than lack 
 ing in tidiness, the cut of his waving 
 brown hair all suggested a place of 
 origin far remote from his present sur 
 roundings; but that he was a gentleman 
 in the true old-fashioned sense of that 
 much-distorted word, nobody could for a 
 moment doubt. 
 
 "Where did Blackburn get his hidalgo 
 from ? " whispered the Countess, hur 
 riedly. " Or, no ; on the whole he looks 
 to me as if the part of him we see in the 
 crowd ought to belong to a well-bred 
 Centaur." 
 
 Blackburn's prosperous middle-aged fig 
 ure, his slightly bald head and pale yellow 
 mustache, made a sufficiently marked off 
 set to the appearance of the stranger, whom 
 he at once presented as Mr. Richard Wil- 
 cox of Virginia. 
 
 " Mr. Wilcox is my nearest neighbor
 
 Worros- on the plantation I have acquired so re- 
 quoyacke cently that I need him to tell me all sorts 
 of things beside my proper boundary-lines," 
 Blackburn added pleasantly. 
 
 " I have myself long been absent from 
 there/' the young man said. " And when 
 I came back a year ago, from a wander 
 ing life in New Mexico and Arizona, to 
 try farming a deserted inheritance, you 
 can imagine how glad I was to find Mr. 
 Blackburn the purchaser of the next 
 estate." 
 
 " I like that ; you still call them estates 
 down yonder," said the Countess, gleefully, 
 but without malice. 
 
 " I suppose it sounds absurd to you," 
 answered Wilcox, a faint tinge of red per 
 ceptible in his cheek. He had fallen quite 
 easily into the chair behind Madame 
 Cagliari, leaving Blackburn to take that 
 nearest Miss Godfrey. "But we can 
 hardly call them farms, when it takes 
 several farms to make up one of them ; 
 and c place ' is a vague sort of term." 
 
 "Call them by their proper names, of 
 course ; estates they have always been 
 since they were crown grants to those 
 
 '
 
 lively ancestors of you Virginians, who Worros- 
 were hurried out of England for their quoyacke 
 country's good, perchance." 
 
 The airy lightness of her tone robbed 
 the words of the sting they might other 
 wise have had. Wilcox smiled. 
 
 " That's the comfortable Northern ver 
 sion of our antecedents, I am aware," he 
 said. " But they were not all of that 
 stripe. I have been led to believe mine 
 were a very decent kind of immigrants." 
 
 " And they left you a princely establish 
 ment down there on the banks of the 
 what is it? James, thank you, in 
 which you faired sumptuously and were a 
 model for all other Americans, and brought 
 up hundreds of slaves to bless the day when 
 they were born captive in your service, 
 that is, 'befo' the waugh.' Am I not 
 well-informed ? " 
 
 " With some slight modifications, en 
 tirely so. Our home was never princely, 
 but it was delightfully big and jolly. I, 
 unfortunately, was born l after the waugh,' 
 and therefore know the old days only by 
 tradition. My father was an officer in the 
 Army of Northern Virginia, who fought 
 
 Ifc]
 
 Worros- through most of its battles to return home 
 quoyacke and find himself a ruined man. He was 
 engaged to my mother at the time, and 
 married her on the understanding that if 
 they could not get a living out of the old 
 acres, without the slaves, they would 
 emigrate, which contingency in due time 
 occurred." 
 
 " Why do you stop ? " 
 
 Wilcox hesitated. He did not care to 
 admit that, his eyes at that minute falling 
 upon Miss Godfrey, he had detected upon 
 that fair creature's face a look of the most 
 undisguised curiosity in his affairs. "Am 
 I making myself ridiculous in thus bab 
 bling ? " he asked himself rapidly. 
 
 " Pray go on," said Madame Cagliari, 
 in a tone that was a command. 
 
 41 Oh, nothing that is really all there 
 is to tell. I was born on a Texan ranch, 
 and, strapped to a saddle-bow, I began 
 my roving. I have done little else. I 
 got my education from my mother till she 
 died, then from my father, then from an 
 old Padre at a mission near where we lived 
 longest in New Mexico. I have never 
 been through a university, and I know 
 [66]
 
 nothing, absolutely nothing, of the great Worros- 
 world. I suppose Blackburn thought it quoyacke 
 would be an experience for his friends to 
 see an aboriginal in contrast with all this," 
 and he made a motion toward the brilliant 
 ring of boxes. 
 
 Blackburn, who was talking to Camilla, 
 indifferent to the fact that she remained 
 with her gaze fixed upon the newcomer, 
 caught his own name. 
 
 u Eh ! You are telling the Countess 
 you are going to ride Lady Sweetlips for 
 me presently. But then she will show 
 for nothing beside your Di Vernon, Wil- 
 cox. With you on her, by George, that 
 beauty of yours will leave everything be 
 hind her in the high jump." 
 
 In his enthusiasm Blackburn drew near 
 the Countess, and for fifteen minutes held 
 the conversation in a technical discourse 
 upon the respective merits of his mare 
 and his friend's. During this interlude, 
 the Countess listening with her ever-ready, 
 well-pleased smile, the young Virginian 
 moved over to sit in the seat behind Miss 
 Godfrey, to occupy which, indeed, he 
 felt himself bidden by some imperious,
 
 WorrQS- swift telepathy he was at a loss to under- 
 
 quoyacke stand. 
 
 " You wanted me to come here ? " he 
 said, blunderingly. " I beg your pardon, 
 I should not have said that. I meant, I 
 suppose, it is the custom for a man to 
 change seats with another when he has 
 claimed a lady's attention long enough." 
 
 "Tell me about your mare," she said, 
 blushing slightly, much against her will. 
 "She must be a rare treasure if Mr. 
 Blackburn accords her such praise." 
 
 " She is a darling my best friend ! " 
 the young man exclaimed, with an enthu 
 siasm Camilla had never before seen in 
 one of his sex and age. " I bred her down 
 there on the plains and taught her every 
 thing she knows and named her out of an 
 odd volume of Sir Walter Scott that made 
 part of my shelf of books. I would never 
 have yielded to the vanity of bringing her 
 to show off here, but that Blackburn over 
 came my scruples, in fact, persuaded me 
 into it. But now, Miss Godfrey, do you 
 not think I have talked quite enough of 
 myself and my own ; I do, and I can't 
 understand why I have done so."
 
 At that moment there came into the box Worros- 
 a lady attended by two dapper youths, quoyacke 
 At the spectacle of this homely old woman 
 in a girlish costume of dark green velvet 
 and chinchilla to whom her young fol 
 lowers paid court as to a maiden in her 
 first season Richard Wilcox allowed his 
 ingenuous face to express the wonder of 
 his soul. 
 
 " This won't do, d'ye see ? " said 
 Blackburn, presently linking his arm in 
 that of the young man to draw him from 
 the spot. " Who ever before saw a fel 
 low show so plainly what he thinks of old 
 Mother Thomson ? Your eyes are tell 
 tales, my dear boy, and I must take you 
 away from the chances of betrayal." 
 
 " How can women like Miss Godfrey 
 and her aunt associate with that per 
 son ? " asked Wilcox. 
 
 " Why, my dear Rusticus, that is not a 
 person, but a personage. There are more 
 like her to whom the aspirants for place 
 bow down. In the eyes of her followers, 
 she shines with a lustre which has nothing to 
 do with the native woman. She is a leader, 
 a social law-giver; and that's enough."
 
 Worros- "She she is not a friend of Miss 
 quoyacke Godfrey's ? " inquired Wilcox in a rather 
 scared whisper. 
 
 "No, certainly not. Camilla Godfrey 
 is an independent, an eccentric, if you 
 will. She has no patience with such as 
 that. But Countess Cagliari is more used 
 to strange apparitions in good society. 
 She takes Mrs. Thomson as a necessary 
 condiment in the salad of New York. If 
 you had looked at Miss Godfrey at the 
 moment, you'd have seen her pretty face 
 grow cold and hard." 
 
 " Did it, by Jove, how glorious ! " ex 
 claimed the younger man, so loud that 
 people in his vicinity turned to see to 
 what he was alluding. 
 
 11 Gently, Wilcox, we are not on the 
 plantation, remember. I see I was right 
 in my intuition that you and Miss Godfrey 
 would meet upon common ground. She 
 is, without your excuse for it, in the same 
 defiant attitude towards things well, not 
 all things established that you are." 
 
 "You mean, then, that she despises 
 sham and pretence and petty affectation. 
 Thank God, I have met one such in this 
 
 [70]
 
 fountain-head of American form and fash- Corros 
 ion where they seem to me to be utterly quoyacke 
 un-American in fundamental principle. 
 Blackburn, it is all true that you told me 
 about that girl over our pipes by the old 
 dining-room fireplace at home. She is 
 wonderfully lovely, fresh, and witching; 
 yet I think she looks dissatisfied. She is 
 evidently wrestling with some problem still 
 unsolved coming to some determination 
 about which she isn't at all sure of her 
 self." 
 
 " Gad, he hit me hard there," said 
 Sydney Blackburn to his inner man. 
 
 " The other one is of the real sort, too, 
 although she ran me a little about old 
 Virginia when we first began to talk. One 
 feels she could never do a mean or a low 
 thing, and her manner is fine such a 
 dainty smile, and so sure of herself." 
 
 " From whom did he get this power of 
 discrimination about women ? " Blackburn 
 was wondering for the twentieth time 
 since their acquaintance began. "A 
 fellow who was literally born and brought 
 up in the wilds." 
 
 Blackburn had first encountered Richard
 
 Worros- Wilcox in the preceding spring, when 
 quoyacke upon a first visit to his new possessions on 
 the bank of the James River. The young 
 man living alone in the half-deserted 
 mansion handed down to him from his 
 forefathers, his household an ex-slave 
 woman and her husband, the latter the 
 army-servant of the late Colonel Wilcox, 
 C.S.A. had been a Heaven-send in the 
 way of companionship to the sociable New 
 Yorker. Their common interest in horses, 
 and Wilcox's superior information on 
 points in which Blackburn had to own 
 himself still an aspiring amateur, confirmed 
 the intimacy then begun. They had cor 
 responded, Wilcox had been of substantial 
 service to Blackburn once or twice in look 
 ing after the movements of his man in 
 charge of the Virginia farm, and, finally, 
 after many solicitations, had consented to 
 come to New York in the autumn as Syd 
 ney's visitor. 
 
 Dick's meeting with Mr. Blackburn's 
 friends brought about, as it appeared, quite 
 casually by him, was, in reality, a test of 
 some moment to Sydney, that easy-going 
 philosopher. He wanted particularly to
 
 know how a girl of the peculiar bent of Wortos- 
 Camilla Godfrey would strike the very quoyacke 
 straightforward young Virginian, who had a 
 way of applying his Ithuriel's spear to pretty 
 much everybody with whom he came in 
 contact. For Blackburn, who had so long 
 resisted the wiles of agreeable femininity 
 in so many lands, was not now in a hurry 
 to let himself go without full and due 
 satisfaction as to the wisdom of such a 
 course. He was in love, after his fashion, 
 with this girl who treated his advance so 
 coolly ; but he had no desire at his age to 
 make a fool of himself, and the effect she 
 had had upon Wilcox now cheered and 
 stimulated his passion exceedingly. He 
 determined, at the earliest convenient op 
 portunity, to allow Wilcox to know the 
 truth about his pretension to her hand. 
 Perhaps walking home that night after the 
 Horse Show, perhaps while they were 
 smoking in his sanctum, whose Oriental 
 magnificence may have excited wonder 
 (not revealed) in the breast of the visitor, 
 and to whose cushioned divans and filigree 
 Moorish arches Master Dick had adapted 
 himself with infinite ease. Wilcox should
 
 certainly be told. Wilcox deserved to 
 know among the first. Wilcox would be 
 a pleasant acquaintance for Camilla when 
 she should go down to Virginia to stop at 
 the old Manor House Blackburn was then 
 having fitted up by experts from the North. 
 She would enjoy riding with him through 
 those cathedral aisles of the pine woods, 
 v and boating and fishing under Dick's 
 superintendence on the river. He had 
 seen in Camilla's eyes that she approved 
 as she rarely did any man presented 
 her Mr. Blackburn's new-found friend. 
 
 Blackburn was right. Camilla did ap 
 prove of Wilcox, with a strange leaping of 
 the heart she was confounded at having to 
 experience. When he left the box, Mrs. 
 Thomson, looking after him, had drawled, 
 " And who is your Orson, my dear child ? 
 Really, now, if Blackburn could persuade 
 him to have his hair cut like other people, 
 I almost think I would say he might be 
 brought to my Monday evenings." 
 
 At this Camilla, in her ardent, impru 
 dent way, fired up and said things that 
 caused Mrs. Thomson to write her down 
 on the side of her book devoted to people 
 
 174]
 
 who are to be severely let alone. This Worros- 
 was the more rash of Camilla, as most of quoyacke 
 the inner circle of the smart set had rather 
 be snubbed and insulted by Mrs. Thomson 
 than actually left to their fate without her. 
 If Camilla's mother and sisters had heard 
 the passage-at-arms between the older and 
 younger lady, they would have trembled 
 and turned faint at the prospect of Ca 
 milla's future. But that nice, comforting 
 Aunt Elizabeth preserved her pleasant, 
 inscrutable demeanor, and when Mrs. 
 Thomson and her body-guard beat a 
 retreat only said, with laughing eyes : 
 
 "Do you think, shocking child, that 
 handsome boy, we shall probably never 
 run upon again, was worth your banish 
 ment to Mrs. Thomson's Siberia ? " 
 
 " It was not for him, but the princi 
 ple, dear," Camilla began, and stopped 
 abruptly. Madame Cagliari did not pur 
 sue the subject. A number of other visit 
 ors claimed their attention. The evening 
 wore away, till Camilla, who had been 
 consulting her programme, settled back in 
 her chair and fixed her gaze eagerly upon 
 the ring.
 
 The high jumping for gentlemen riders 
 was about to begin, and Madame Cagliari, 
 following with her glass the direction of 
 Miss Godfrey's eyes, saw a light, elegant 
 figure seated upon Mr. Blackburn's well- 
 known Lady Sweetlips, cantering back 
 and forth beneath them. 
 
 That Sweetlips, the darling of her mas 
 ter's heart, won her due meed of honors, 
 would be naturally a gratifying thing to 
 Miss Godfrey. But Camilla's aunt was 
 unprepared for the charming radiance of 
 satisfaction that overspread the young 
 lady's face and manner. She thought she 
 had never seen Camilla look so pretty and 
 girlishly happy before. 
 
 " Blackburn will be coming to receive 
 your congratulations," said the Countess, 
 but the remark fell upon deaf ears. There 
 still was Camilla intent upon the ring, 
 leaning forward in rapt delight. A mare 
 and rider had now made their appearance, 
 upon whose first trial round applause from 
 the audience arose irrepressibly. The 
 mare was a grand, free-stepping creature, 
 black as jet, sensitive to a touch, and 
 humanly intelligent, as any one could see,
 
 who, when presently put to the test of the Worros- 
 bar, went easily higher and higher, until quoyacke 
 her flight through space seemed merely a 
 question of when her rider should bid her 
 attempt the feat. There had been noth 
 ing like it seen that night, or any night, in 
 the Garden. The audience as one voice 
 broke into cheering until the judges would 
 have no more of it, and the next event 
 was placarded. Before leaving the ring 
 the rider and mare passed around under 
 where Countess Cagliari sat with her 
 niece, waving him a greeting with their 
 handkerchiefs. A salute so slight that 
 they alone recognized it, expressed his 
 thanks, and he was gone. 
 
 "Did I not say truly he is of Centaur 
 build ? " exclaimed the Countess, now 
 more excited than her niece. "My dear 
 Camilla, if our young man knew what 
 is to his advantage, he would never get 
 down from that saddle to become a mere 
 commonplace mortal again." 
 
 "I am delighted that you had this oppor 
 tunity of seeing a specimen of Wilcox's 
 horsemanship," Blackburn said, by-and-by, 
 when he again joined the ladies. " He is 
 
 [77]
 
 of that old-time breed of Southern riders 
 who are as one with their horses, and is 
 able to execute quite an astonishing variety 
 of feats when in the saddle and at full run. 
 But those are not his only attractions, as 
 you will find out if I succeed in persuad 
 ing you to come down to visit me on the 
 plantation. The old house he lives in, 
 and his relations to things generally, will 
 interest you I am sure. He is just now 
 undergoing a bombardment of civilities to 
 himself and that mare of his, and could 
 make a small fortune out of the sale of 
 her if he were so disposed." 
 
 " But he will not part with her ? " asked 
 Camilla. 
 
 " Hardly," said Blackburn, with a grim 
 ace. " I have found that out, on my own 
 account, long before this. Come, Madame 
 Cagliari, while the Virginian scheme is 
 again upon the tapis promise me that you 
 will make up a party to be my guests, at 
 any date you may fix before Christmas. 
 I want your verdict a woman's verdict 
 upon some of the improvements I'm 
 making in the house, but there is enough 
 finished to give you comfortable quarters. 
 
 [7*]
 
 I think Mr. and Mrs. Godfrey will not Worros- 
 object to entrusting their daughter to your quoyacke 
 care for the jaunt, and there are a few 
 other people I believe we can get, who 
 will make up a congenial house-party for 
 a week." 
 
 "It is most enticing, certainly," said 
 the Countess, covertly consulting the ex 
 pression of her niece. To her surprise 
 Camilla was in a condition of beaming 
 acquiescence. 
 
 "Yes, yes, we will go. I know papa 
 and mamma will make no objection," she 
 said eagerly. " I have always wanted to 
 have a glimpse of that romantic old life of 
 Virginia still under the cloud of war when 
 all our part of the country has so long 
 passed out of it. Besides, what you have 
 told me of the neighborhood, the climate, 
 and the outdoor life is like a whiff of fresh 
 air in a hot room. Do say yes, Aunt 
 Elizabeth, and let Mr. Blackburn fix a 
 time when he will be ready to receive us." 
 
 "We shall see," answered Aunt Eliza 
 beth, in an approving tone. Blackburn 
 was quite taken by surprise by the readi 
 ness of Camilla's acceptance of his scheme. 
 
 [7P]
 
 Surely, this could mean but one thing, and 
 his staid, elderly heart began to be invaded 
 by a new and encouragingly active sensa 
 tion of delight. 
 
 As they sat in the smoke-room of Black 
 burn's sumptuous flat an hour later, he was 
 impelled to bestow his confidence upon 
 young Wilcox. But, somehow, this was 
 not altogether an easy task. At Sydney's 
 age, a man beats about the bush for words 
 in which to clothe an announcement in 
 volving sentimental relations with a young 
 and blooming maiden. 
 
 At last in despair, he did what he had 
 better have done in the beginning blurted 
 out the fact that Madame Cagliari and her 
 niece had promised to visit him in Virginia; 
 and then, before he had had more than 
 time to note the apparently exhilarating 
 effect of this statement upon his friend, 
 followed it up by these unvarnished words : 
 
 "And you know, Wilcox, or you ought 
 to know, if you've half the insight I give 
 you credit for, that I'm expecting Miss 
 Godfrey to go there one day as my wife." 
 
 Wilcox did not move a muscle, but 
 smoked his cigar in silence to the end.
 
 Then with a brief " I congratulate you," Worros- 
 he bade his host good-night and left the quoyacke 
 room. 
 
 "Odd fellow, that," said Blackburn. 
 "Never does the things one expects of 
 him."
 
 Part II 
 
 Worros- " / ~T" S HERE is no host like a well-bred 
 quoyacke JL bachelor," said Madame Cagliari, 
 when, after the luncheon the day follow 
 ing their arrival at Pampatike, the ladies 
 assembled in the library to have their 
 coffee and await the coming of the men. 
 "I can't think why, when some women 
 bestow their very best efforts upon enter 
 taining, they miss making their guests as 
 deliciously comfortable and as much at 
 home as we are now." 
 
 The architect-decorator, sent on from 
 New York to carry out the scheme of 
 restoration in the old dwelling, had cer 
 tainly acquitted himself with credit of 
 the task. Never a " stately home " of 
 old Virginia, Pampatike House was now 
 as it had been in its palmiest days a 
 livable, cheery place, with its wooden 
 wainscotings and corner cupboards and 
 spindle banisters and egg-and-dart mould-
 
 ings, renewed under a lustrous coat of Worros- 
 cream enamel paint; its deep brick fire- quoyacke 
 places freshly reddened ; the dark floors 
 polished and waxed, and strewn with 
 Turkey rugs of the old lost shade of 
 soft crimson ; the furniture-covers and 
 curtains of red moreen in the same tint, 
 the tall old mahogany bookcases refilled 
 with books in antique bindings. 
 
 "An ideal lodge in the wilderness," 
 went on the Countess in her soft, ap 
 proving voice. "And in my room there 
 are crewel-worked bed-curtains, a knot- 
 work quilt, and a pair of bedside steps, 
 such as I have always coveted. They 
 must have ransacked all the old curiosity 
 shops in Washington and Richmond to 
 fit up this house." 
 
 "What stories the old furniture and 
 ornaments could tell of bygones in the 
 different families they came out of," said 
 Miss Godfrey, with animation. "If we 
 could understand their true feeling it 
 would probably be one of protest against 
 us as usurpers, and against themselves as 
 pretenders arrayed here together out of 
 place."
 
 Worros- " Bah ! This house belonged to no- 
 quoyacke body in particular," said a mocking lady 
 of the party. " It was originally built 
 for a bailiff, I believe, attached to estates 
 of the Wilcoxes, who were the grandees 
 in these parts, and was added to by some 
 member of that family who wanted to live 
 in it. Mr. Cleve, who has been here 
 before with Blackburn, tells me the c real 
 thing ' to see is that old gone-to-seed 
 mansion of the Wilcoxes with the ex 
 traordinary name I can't remember " 
 
 " Worrosquoyacke ? " queried Camilla 
 Godfrey, sitting up erect in her three- 
 cornered armchair with the brass claw- 
 feet. 
 
 "Yes, that is it Wurrusqueak the 
 negroes and country people call it. Well, 
 Mr. Cleve tells me it is something no 
 one ought to miss who wishes to see one 
 of the best specimens of early Colonial 
 architecture still extant. But the trouble 
 is to get inside the house. There is only 
 a young man living there now, poor and 
 proud, and a couple of former slaves of 
 the family to take care of the house and 
 master. The young Wilcox would not 
 
 [<*]
 
 relish a horde of us descending upon Worros- 
 him, I fancy. Not unless he could en- quoyacke 
 tertain us, that is; and he is about as 
 well able to do that as the gentleman 
 with the falcon, who killed and cooked 
 his pet bird to serve his lady's table." 
 
 " How immensely interesting ! " drawled 
 a woman whom Camilla Godfrey hated on 
 the spot. " I should like so tremendously 
 to go there, and see him just as he is 
 a last leaf trembling on the bough of 
 ancient aristocracy. Now, dear Miss 
 Godfrey, you have more influence than 
 any of us with Mr. Blackburn, do per 
 suade him to make up a party a raid 
 ing party we will call it to descend 
 unexpectedly upon the gentleman with 
 the squeak in the name of his place. 
 Really, if you don't, I shall try coaxing 
 Mr. Blackburn on my own account." 
 
 " I shall leave it to your eloquence," 
 said Camilla, freezingly. " Nothing would 
 induce me to obtrude myself under such 
 circumstances." 
 
 " No doubt Mr. Wilcox, whom I have 
 had the pleasure of meeting," said Madame 
 Cagliari, "will himself give us an invita-
 
 Worros- tion. If there are old pictures a Knel- 
 
 quoyacke ler, I'm told still upon panelled walls, 
 
 and a room full of rare china, the owner 
 
 would certainly consider it a favor to us 
 
 to exhibit them." 
 
 "Now, why can't I say things like 
 Aunt Elizabeth," meditated Camilla that 
 night as, in reviewing this conversation, 
 she sat before her dressing-table, "instead 
 of flying off the handle as I did, and 
 always do? Of course, she took the 
 right view of it. He must come he 
 must ask us to go there. I shall see 
 his home, his surroundings that have 
 haunted my imagination ever since I 
 met him first. I can't think why I 
 should have presumed to be disappointed 
 because I saw or heard nothing of him 
 when we landed on his shores. And 
 why have I been waiting and watching 
 all day in the hope of hearing Mr. 
 Blackburn say when and where we are 
 to meet him ? Not a word, not a sign, 
 from him. Oh, suppose suppose he 
 should not be at home ! " 
 
 With this, Miss Godfrey relinquished 
 the three parts of a massive plait of
 
 bronzed hair she was weaving for the Worros- 
 night, allowing it to break up in a ruddy quoyacke 
 glory over her shoulders to her knees. 
 As she caught sight of her eyes in the 
 mirror they seemed to her to be smitten 
 with alarm too deep for words. Then 
 with a sudden revulsion she laughed, 
 but not exactly a merry, light-hearted 
 laugh, and, recapturing her locks, began 
 anew her soft toil of plaiting them. 
 
 Miss Godfrey's vigil over night did 
 not, however, affect her readiness next 
 morning to ride after breakfast with her 
 host. Blackburn, who had promised to 
 show her a stretch of old Virginia wood 
 lands so enriched with moss and crows- 
 foot, with laurel and pine, and huge hollies 
 in full array of living green and crimson 
 fruitage, as to banish the thought of win 
 ter's reign, felt satisfied that his experi 
 ment in bringing this young lady to behold 
 her future kingdom was a success. He 
 had never seen her so alert, so joyous, so 
 full of interest in her surroundings as 
 now when they rode swiftly through the 
 scented green arcades of the pines, talking 
 of the vicinity, its people, its traditions. 
 
 [**]
 
 Worros- Everything that Sydney could tell she lis- 
 quoyacke tened to with eager comment. And by- 
 and-by, when a horseman came out of a 
 cross-road and rode up behind them sud 
 denly, Camilla felt herself start, then blush 
 with an eagerness of expectation she feared 
 her host might notice. 
 
 " Hallo, Parson ! " exclaimed Black 
 burn, pulling up for greetings and intro 
 duction of the rector of Worrosquoyacke 
 Parish. 
 
 An ex-soldier, and every inch of him 
 proclaimed the fact that soldier he had 
 been was the Reverend Emilius Fauntle- 
 roy, despite the clerical cut of his rusty 
 black suit, the trousers half-concealed by 
 leggins of green baize, called in Colonial 
 times " splatterdashers." Having fought 
 through the war to emerge with a few 
 honorable scars, the Doctor did not now 
 concern himself greatly with affairs outside 
 of State politics, his poor, his quaint old 
 Colonial church, and the steed or two 
 he always managed to keep in his stable 
 his stud now consisting of an ancient 
 11 buggy" horse and the fiery young colt 
 he was at present breaking to the saddle.
 
 Like everybody else in the neighbor- Worros- 
 hood, Doctor Fauntleroy had heard the quoyacke 
 rumor that among the guests of the Pam- 
 patike House party was the lady of Black 
 burn's love; and relishing a love affair, 
 like all other good Virginians, he now 
 rode at Miss Godfrey's saddle-bow, his 
 eyes twinkling with satisfaction in the 
 rencontre. Blackburn, who had begun to 
 find Camilla's thirst for information, his 
 toric and genealogical, beyond his powers 
 to satisfy, challenged the rector to supply 
 his deficiency; and it was not long before 
 she was put in possession of the leading 
 facts, present and past, of the annals of a 
 quiet neighborhood. The rector, with 
 whom all such things were a hobby, did 
 not perceive the special interest expressed 
 in his hearer's face when he touched upon 
 the subject of the ancestral home of the 
 Wilcoxes, its chimneys now visible not 
 far away, on a wooded bluff near the 
 river. 
 
 " That's a house worth showing you," 
 the good gentleman went on, twisting in his 
 saddle to point out a momentary glimpse 
 of brick walls, half hidden by evergreens 
 
 [*?]
 
 Worros- upon a sweeping lawn. "What do you 
 quoyacke say, Blackburn, to our taking the young 
 lady inside for a peep at the wood 
 work of the main stairs and the pictures 
 in the dining-room ? " 
 
 "I had been rather expecting Wilcox 
 to ask us all to see them," said Blackburn. 
 " I sent an invitation over there yesterday 
 to him to dine to-night at Pampatike, at 
 the same time I asked you. But, unlike 
 you, he has not given us the pleasant 
 promise of his company." 
 
 " He's from home, you know. Went 
 to Richmond yesterday morning. Too 
 bad the boy should not be here to profit 
 by a little good company of his own age 
 and standing. I did hope, Blackburn, 
 you had succeeded in pulling him out of 
 his reserve. But, by George, sir, lately 
 he's worse than ever. However, his 
 absence makes no difference, as far as 
 seeing the house is concerned. You 
 know I was Dick's guardian, and am, 
 besides, his kinsman. I can answer for 
 it he will be proud to have Miss Godfrey 
 honor his bachelor quarters, and old Sylvie 
 will thank God when the gentry set foot 
 
 [90}
 
 over her threshold. Did you chance, Miss Worros- 
 Godfrey, to meet my lad when he was in quoyacke 
 New York ? " 
 
 " Yes," faltered Camilla, turning her 
 head to look down a forest vista. On 
 no account must she show the tumult of 
 her feeling. 
 
 " I really think you will enjoy the 
 house better under Doctor Fauntleroy's 
 guidance than with any one else," said 
 Blackburn in a matter-of-fact way. "I 
 know your dislike to doing anything 
 in parties, and if we do get another 
 chance to go there you will be at an 
 advantage over all of them. I'll swear 
 I am vexed, though, that 'Wilcox should 
 have given us the slip. When he comes 
 back and finds you have been to Worros- 
 quoyacke he will be well punished." 
 
 " Do you really think we should go ? " 
 ventured the girl, hardly knowing how to 
 frame her protest. 
 
 "Why not?" asked the rector. And 
 u Why not ? " echoed her host queries 
 she could not answer. In her blank and 
 bitter disappointment nothing just then 
 seemed of much consequence. She let
 
 IVorros- them open gate after gate for her pass- 
 quoyacke ing, and at last rode under an archway 
 of ancient iron-work bearing the Wilcox 
 coat-of-arms, into an avenue of noble 
 denuded trees that led up to the front 
 door, feeling herself the creature of an 
 elusive yet rather fascinating dream. 
 
 This, then, was his dearly loved home ; 
 this large, rambling old pile built of mot 
 tled brick, the roof swept by the black, 
 leafless branches of great trees; the long 
 array of windows closed and shuttered; 
 the stately front door, up to which they 
 passed over a flight of worn marble steps, 
 hermetically sealed. In response to the 
 rector's vigorous and resounding attack 
 upon the knocker no sound of life within 
 was heard, and the vexed gentleman was 
 about himself to go around to the rear 
 when a wheezing cough inside proclaimed 
 old Hannibal, the major-domo, one of 
 Dick's solitary pair of servants. 
 
 "I'll bet you any money," said Doctor 
 Fauntleroy, quite innocent of his uncleri- 
 cal offer, " that goose, Sylvie, saw us com 
 ing and kept Hannibal to put him into his 
 old claw-hammer coat that was made in 
 
 OJ
 
 the time of Henry Clay. You will like Worros- 
 Sylvie, Miss Godfrey. She is one of the quoyacke 
 truest souls and most transparent old idiots 
 now living." 
 
 The door swung open and Hannibal 
 appeared, so attired as to realize the rector's 
 prediction, bowing to the ground in wel 
 come. A little in the rear stood Sylvie, 
 vast and turbaned, her black face aglow 
 with reverent rapture. Having acquitted 
 herself of the honors of reception she 
 waddled away, leaving gray old Hannibal 
 to usher the guests within. 
 
 Not even the morning sunshine blazing 
 through a wide east window could make 
 the inside of Worrosquoyacke House 
 cheerful to look upon. During the war 
 this ample hall had served over night as a 
 stable for the invaders' cavalry, and the 
 defacement of walls and wainscoting had 
 never been repaired. The lovely sweep 
 of the double staircase, with its balusters 
 like Chinese puzzles in ivory, soared away 
 out of the cracked marble of the floor into 
 a circular hall above, under a rotunda of 
 patched glass, which, during the war, was 
 so broken that birds had nested inside on
 
 the tops of doors and windows. When 
 they passed into a large drawing-room 
 veiled in gauze and holland, containing 
 furniture, ornaments, and mirrors of value 
 and great beauty, Camilla shivered at the 
 desolation of the place. It was not until 
 they recrossed the hall and entered a large 
 dining-room filled with family portraits and 
 solid pieces of mahogany furniture, gray 
 for want of polish, that signs of human 
 habitation relieved the sense of gloom. 
 A desk, an armchair, a sideboard whereon 
 a few bits of beautiful old Queen Anne 
 silver caught Camilla's eye; books scat 
 tered everywhere, and a pair of fire-dogs 
 mounting guard over a bed of hickory ashes 
 upon which Hannibal speedily kindled a 
 new and noble offering of logs, all testified 
 to the habitual presence of some one not a 
 ghost. While the rector detailed for the 
 visitors the history and traditions of the 
 Wilcox family gallery, Camilla's spirit 
 turned aside to speculate upon these daily 
 haunts of the absent young master of the 
 house. So intensely did her vivid imagina 
 tion play around the object of her thoughts 
 that it was hardly a surprise when a door 
 
 [**]
 
 in the wainscoting opened and Wilcox, in Worros- 
 person, with a pair of cocker spaniels at quoyacke 
 his heels came into the room. 
 
 For the young man, who had been pur 
 sued in his morning ramble by an envoy 
 of Sylvie and brought back to receive his 
 guests, there had been some preparation 
 for this meeting. But in Camilla, sur 
 prise, vexation, and other emotions met 
 and almost robbed her of speech. Hardly 
 were the explanations of their belief in his 
 absence from home met by his assurance 
 that he had set out for Richmond the day 
 before but, changing his mind, had re 
 turned late the previous night, and was 
 just sending off an answer to Blackburn's 
 note when Miss Godfrey, looking out 
 of the window at the horses in charge of 
 Blackburn's groom, announced that she 
 really could not keep those creatures wait 
 ing another minute to set off. 
 
 " You must first let Sylvie offer you 
 some of her pet cherry cordial," said 
 Wilcox, with a rather melancholy smile. 
 "The old woman charged me to make 
 you wait for that, and for a shortcake 
 now preparing. And, to while away the
 
 time, let me show you the china boudoir 
 in the visitors' wing, where the rooms are 
 dry and in excellent preservation." 
 
 "Do you take the young lady to see 
 the china, while I show Blackburn these 
 books we found last week in the garret," 
 said the rector on his knees before the 
 lower shelf of a bookcase. 
 
 Camilla, her habit caught in one hand, 
 stood the image of beautiful uncertainty ; 
 then, yielding, accompanied Dick through 
 the drawing-room into a long, glazed and 
 matted gallery hung with sporting prints 
 and St. Memin profiles, thence into a wing 
 containing half a dozen rooms, of which 
 the windows outside were almost over 
 grown with ivy, as well as shaded by the 
 trunks of tall magnolias with their foliage 
 of glossy evergreen. . 
 
 " Does it make you nervous, this ghostly 
 green light ? " said he, noting her little 
 shiver. " I suppose I ought to have the ivy 
 cut away and sacrifice a tree or two, but in 
 summer these rooms are so deliciously cool. 
 Besides, there will be no one to occupy 
 them in my time and after me, the 
 deluge ! " he finished, pulling up suddenly.
 
 They were standing close to each other Worros- 
 upon the hearth of a faded boudoir crowded quoyacke 
 with the accumulated treasures of several 
 of Dick's china-loving grandmothers. All 
 about the two young people the atmos 
 phere was surcharged with pathetic sug 
 gestions of decayed fortune and forgotten 
 life. As Camilla, keenly feeling these 
 things, fixed her soft gaze upon the young 
 man who seemed to embody what so 
 strangely attracted and moved her in his 
 home, she did not know that she, in turn, 
 appeared to him as a breathing embodi 
 ment of all that his life lacked. The glow 
 ing pulse of youth, hope, sympathy, beauty 
 it was like a draught of fresh water to 
 thirsty lips. He stopped short in the 
 conventional explanation he had begun 
 to make to her of the contents of the 
 room, stammered, and was again silent. 
 
 " Pray tell me more ; I am most inter 
 ested," she said hastily. 
 
 The consciousness of unspoken senti 
 ment between them affected her also ; so 
 much so, that, womanlike, her impulse 
 was to take refuge from it in rapid speech. 
 But the young man, ignoring her words,
 
 continued to look at her with unspeakable 
 content. 
 
 " I think we must go," she went on, 
 startled at the revelation in the sound of 
 her own voice, and moving toward the 
 door. 
 
 "No, no ! Don't go when I rode all 
 the way back yesterday, against my better 
 judgment, on the mere chance of getting 
 a glimpse of you. I'm not coming to 
 Pampatike. I can't. If you stand where 
 you are just five minutes more I will never 
 ask you to do anything else for me. After 
 this there will be nothing to try for. But 
 I'd be a poor sort of creature if I could 
 not endure." 
 
 As if under a spell Camilla remained, 
 her eyes drooped before his, till the hush 
 of the little low-toned, lavender-scented 
 room became intolerable. She was hop 
 ing he would say only a word more, any 
 thing that would free her tongue. But 
 no word was spoken, and at last, with a 
 quick repellent gesture, she darted away 
 from him, and before him, into the entry 
 and along the matted gallery.
 
 Part III 
 
 ONE morning at breakfast time, about Worros- 
 a year after these occurrences, Dick quoyacke 
 Wilcox came into his own dining-room to 
 find there the rector, who, having tied his 
 nag to a rack outside, had stepped in 
 unannounced. 
 
 " Ha, Dick ! Caught you napping, 
 didn't I ? " said the Reverend Emilius in 
 his hearty voice. " I came early because 
 I want to talk to you." 
 
 " Always glad to see you, Parson," 
 said Dick, shaking hands with his vis 
 itor. " But you'll wait a minute till I 
 order in the provender ? " 
 
 From the dining-room to the belonging 
 places of cook and butler there had once 
 been the necessary bells, but these were 
 broken long since, and when Dick de 
 sired to inform his servants that he was 
 ready for a meal, he accomplished it by 
 opening a door and shouting, " Oh ! Syl- 
 
 [PP]
 
 vie," at the top of his hearty young lungs. 
 This act now accomplished, simultane 
 ously Nip and Tuck, the spaniels, sent 
 up a vociferous barking, awaking the 
 echoes of the silent house. 
 
 Upon the remnant of a fine old damask 
 table-cloth Sylvie, arriving, deposited a dish 
 of broiled bacon, delicately curled, with a 
 crisp corn-pone, brown of hue, a pat of 
 butter she had just churned in a bottle, 
 and a tin pot of coffee emitting delicious 
 aroma. Whatever was lacking at Worros- 
 quoyacke it was not good cooking, so long 
 as fat Sylvie's pin-cushions of brown hands 
 were there to manipulate her scant material. 
 
 " I've had a surprising letter from 
 Blackburn," said Doctor Fauntleroy, when 
 the old woman had disappeared to prepare 
 one of her famous omelets. 
 
 Dick's hand was steady as he set down 
 his coffee-cup. 
 
 " Then he is back in New York again ? " 
 
 "Yes, and says he will be here for 
 Christmas with Mrs. Blackburn. The 
 letter was principally concerned with the 
 affairs of that rascally agent of his, whom 
 we have just seen the last of, and the per- 
 
 \_ioo~\
 
 sonal news was confined to this mere an- Worros- 
 nouncement. I suppose the marriage took quoyacke 
 place in Italy, where Miss Godfrey has 
 recently been visiting and travelling with 
 her aunt, which accounts for our not hav 
 ing had the details, ad nauseam^ copied 
 from the New York papers into our local 
 sheets. That is one of the benefits of our 
 isolation, in my eyes. Well, I suppose, 
 Dick, we shall have to furbish ourselves 
 up to do honor to the bride, charming 
 creature, but too young for Blackburn, 
 according to my thinking. I have already 
 told my good old Belinda to send my Sun 
 day suit to the cleaner's in Richmond, and 
 I've an idea, my boy, that it's about time 
 for me to invest in another pair of shoes. 
 What ! is that the best breakfast you can 
 manage ? " 
 
 " See here, Parson, I've made up my 
 mind this farming the old acres will not 
 do for me," answered Dick, getting up to 
 walk to and fro beneath the concentrated 
 gaze of his unremunerative ancestors ranged 
 around the walls. "I was meaning to talk 
 to you about it. There's an old chum of 
 mine in Texas writing me to come down 
 
 [707]
 
 Worros- and go into a land speculation with him, 
 quoyacke and I think I'll accept." 
 
 " Small blame to you, my lad, to want 
 to 1'eave this dull neighborhood," said the 
 rector, kindly. " But bide awhile longer, 
 Dick, I've hopes of a better chance for 
 you than that. Blackburn, who is a capital 
 fellow, has been busy working up a scheme 
 for you in New York that, if I hadn't 
 pledged myself not to unfold it, you'd soon 
 see is well worth your while considering." 
 
 " I cannot consider it," exclaimed the 
 young man, hotly. " I decline to be 
 Blackburn's beneficiary. I shall go South 
 at once, and, if I see there is nothing in 
 Scott's affair, I can return here later. No, 
 Parson, don't try to coax me. You, if any 
 man, should understand that when I make 
 up my mind to a thing it is settled. But 
 I don't mind telling you there are reasons 
 why I cannot take such a favor from 
 Blackburn and retain my self-respect." 
 
 " Reasons ? " persisted the rector. 
 " Why a year ago you and he were as 
 thick as thieves, and if your friendship 
 has fallen off since it can only be because 
 Blackburn has been away globe-trotting."
 
 "If you must know, he has just mar- Worros- 
 ried the only woman I ever loved or ever quoyacke 
 can love," said the young man, stopping 
 short beside the rector's chair and looking 
 him full in the face. 
 
 " Good gracious ! " said the Doctor. 
 " Am I blind or ossified that I did not 
 find this out before ? Since when, Rich 
 ard, has it been going on ? " 
 
 u Since I first laid eyes on her," an 
 swered the young man, simply. 
 
 "Then I muffed it, didn't I, when I 
 brought her over here last year ? " went 
 on the bewildered rector. 
 
 11 You gave me, on the contrary, the 
 quietus I sorely needed. Since then it 
 has been plain sailing. But I'm not 
 ready to take material advantage from 
 her husband. Oh, no, Parson, that's not 
 like a Wilcox." 
 
 " If you want to know my opinion," 
 quoth the rector, after the interruption of 
 Sylvie's arrival with her omelet, " it isn't 
 like a Wilcox to run away in the face of 
 a crisis. No, Dick. Stay here and see 
 her and let yourself be cured for good, as 
 you will not be if you go off and dream of 
 
 Ew]
 
 her. Blackburn writes that his wife wants 
 to see a Virginia Christmas, and that they 
 will bring friends as before. We must do 
 our part, for the credit of our State. The 
 least you can do, dear boy, is to invite them 
 here to break bread with you for once." 
 
 The rector had his way, and after dark 
 on Christmas Eve saw the " great house " 
 at Worrosquoyacke in an unwonted stir 
 of preparation for company. A powder 
 ing of snow capped the hollies and cedars 
 of the lawn ; the air was crisp and invigo 
 rating, and stars shone in a brilliantly clear 
 sky. Along the final stretch of the avenue 
 leading to the house Chinese lanterns were 
 tied to the low branches of the trees, and 
 at intervals between them were stationed 
 little colored boys, each ineffably content 
 with the consciousness of a box of matches 
 in his pocket, and the sense that at a given 
 signal he was to be part of a show. In 
 the old hallway the scars of war and time 
 were covered with screens of wildwood 
 greenery, with boughs of crimson-berried 
 shrubs, with garlands of laurel and crows- 
 foot. For Hannibal and Sylvie well under 
 stood the old-time methods of decoration
 
 for a "party of gentlefolks," and to aid Worros- 
 them in preparation had convened half the quoyacke 
 black folks in the neighborhood. Impro 
 vised frames for candles upon every door 
 way were garnished with leaves of magnolia 
 laid one upon another, like the wreaths upon 
 great Caesar's brow. The large drawing- 
 room, rid of its shrouding bags, was pol 
 ished and warmed and lighted brilliantly. 
 All day long Sylvie had been proudly con 
 ducting to its threshold, to view its glories, 
 deputations of her own color, whose rapt 
 urous admiration filled her soul with con 
 tent. On the upper landing of the stairs 
 were seats for the musicians, a band of 
 negroes, who were presently to bring into 
 their performance the soft cries and hand- 
 clappings, the time marked with their feet, 
 that makes their dance-music often well- 
 nigh irresistible. 
 
 When Dick had informed her that he 
 was to offer on Christmas Eve a supper 
 to the new Mrs. Sydney Blackburn, who 
 would that day arrive in the neighborhood 
 with a house party of friends, the old 
 woman had gained two inches in stature. 
 And when, putting into her hand a sum
 
 of money that Dick knew, and Sylvie 
 knew, and each knew the other knew to 
 be extravagantly in excess of what he 
 could afford, he bade her spread a table 
 that should be a credit to her housekeep 
 ing, Sylvie accepted the trust with silent 
 resolve to do or die. What if he went 
 without afterward, thought the poor lad, 
 so long as his lady was honored fitly? 
 And it should go hard with her if she and 
 the old man couldn't scrimp to make up 
 for Marse Dick's outburst for the honor 
 of the house, thought Sylvie. 
 
 Thus for to-night had come back to 
 Worrosquoyacke the old baronial cheer of 
 long vanished days. The mahogany din- 
 ing-table, re-enforced by other claw-footed 
 supporters, revealed to the combined gaze 
 of ancestral Wilcoxes their once familiar 
 dishes and beakers and flagons of antique 
 silver, set upon it after the manner of sup 
 per-tables of the gentry in Richmond, as 
 Sylvie remembered them before the war. 
 At one end a huge block of ice set upon 
 a platter was hollowed out to receive raw 
 oysters. One of Hannibal's best hams, 
 rubbed in hickory ashes some three years
 
 before and brought to the perfection of Worros- 
 the nutty flavor he deemed desirable, now quoyacke 
 stuck with cloves and garnished with a cut- 
 paper rufF, occupied the other extremity of 
 the board. Between were jellied chicken 
 and tongues and a substantial round of 
 " huntsman's beef," cured after Mrs. Ran 
 dolph's famous receipt ; game, hot and 
 cold ; croquettes and salads were pres 
 ently to be added with a " hen's nest " of 
 eggs made of blanc-mange in a bed of 
 quivering jelly, the hay simulated by cut 
 lemon peel; charlotte russe, and other 
 tremulous and deliquescent sweets. There 
 was even a rumor that ran with ecstasy 
 down the line of lantern lighters outside 
 of ice-cream in stor.e, enough for the 
 black folks after the " quality " should be 
 fed. 
 
 Dick, called in by Sylvie just before the 
 arrival of his guests to survey his feast, 
 found her with Hannibal radiant with 
 pride. Not for worlds would Sylvie have 
 let any of her retainers without see her do 
 it; but, once inside and the door shut, she 
 lifted high her hands and voice : 
 
 " I bless Thee, Lawd, that Thou has
 
 Worros- let Thy sarvants see this sight in ole 
 quoyacke Wurrusqueak House agin befo' they dies." 
 
 And Hannibal, closing his eyes, devoutly 
 said " Amen ! " 
 
 " There ain't but one drawback to it, 
 Marse Dick, darlin'," went on the old 
 creature, fondly. "This here's the spit 
 en image of a weddin' supper, an' here's 
 the best-looking groom on Jeamses River, 
 ef I do say it as shouldn't. Ef there only 
 was a bride fitten to mate with him." 
 
 " Hush, old woman, don't talk non 
 sense," said the young man, his cheek 
 reddening as he walked into the hall. 
 
 At this moment a light twinkled far 
 down the avenue, another, another, then 
 two lines of them, then a bonfire of pitch- 
 pine shot up a glare of radiance upon the 
 facade of the old brick house. Dark faces 
 and forms that had gathered from all quar 
 ters to see the fun were revealed in unsus 
 pected numbers. As the first carriage drove 
 up before the wide open front door, Dick 
 advanced bareheaded to greet his guests. 
 
 There were two occupants only of this 
 vehicle Blackburn and the Countess Ca- 
 gliari. In the little excitement of greeting 
 
 [**]
 
 them, and going to meet another carriage Worros- 
 from which stepped two women robed in quoyacke 
 long furry wraps, and two men he did not 
 know, who immediately joined the first 
 arrivals on the portico to await the rest, 
 Dick could do no more than stammer a 
 few words in Countess Cagliari's ear : 
 
 " Your your niece is not coming 
 then ? " 
 
 " Of course. Camilla is in the next 
 carriage. You have no idea how eager 
 we all were to accept your hospitality and 
 how much Mr. Blackburn and I were 
 charmed with this compliment. The old 
 house is like a palace in a pantomime to 
 night, with all these lights music, too ? 
 How I love that negro music. It is like 
 nothing else. What a welcome to dear 
 old Virginia ! No, I assure you, you could 
 have done nothing to please us half so 
 much my husband has always " 
 
 " My wife is thanking you for both of 
 us, eh, Wilcox ? " interrupted Blackburn, 
 coming up genially and putting a hand upon 
 the shoulder of the late Countess Cagliari. 
 
 What he said more, what anybody said 
 or did, just after that, poor Dick could not 
 [/op]
 
 Worros- have testified to on oath. He stood stock 
 quoyacke still, the blood surging to his temples, his 
 heart beating violently, till a carriage door 
 opening gave into his very hand the gloved 
 lingers of Camilla Godfrey, who sprang 
 to the steps and turned toward his a face 
 made up of beaming joy and maidenly 
 reserve. There was no speech between 
 them, for, after the Pampatike party, came 
 neighbors thick and fast neighbors in 
 all sorts of vehicles from the old pumpkin- 
 colored chariot with unfolding steps, let 
 down from inside the doors, to a mule 
 wagon filled with young fellows and pretty 
 girls seated upon split-bottomed chairs and 
 making the night air resound with their 
 gayety. Dick had his hands too full with 
 greetings and congratulations upon the 
 reopening of his house to pay especial heed 
 to any one. Before the wide hall fire 
 place, wherein burnt a giant Yule log cov 
 ered with lichen and bearded moss, the new 
 Mrs. Blackburn stood between her hus 
 band and her host. Dick was struck with 
 the happy, restful look upon the lady's 
 mobile face, while her grace in receiving 
 their friends was never more apparent. 
 
 [7/0]
 
 At the first convenient interval, Parson Worros- 
 Fauntleroy, with a quizzical gleam in his quoyacke 
 eye, whispered in Dick's ear : 
 
 " By George, sir, we were nicely taken 
 in. When I told Blackburn just now 
 that to the last minute I'd believed he had 
 married the niece, he laughed as heartily 
 as if such an idea had never touched his 
 brain. He even had the cheek to tell me 
 it was a year ago down here at Pampatike 
 that he fell in love with the widow. And 
 he says, Dick, he wrote me all about his 
 engagement from Cairo last winter and 
 told me to tell you. Of course, we must 
 believe Blackburn ; but I'll bet any money 
 I mean I'm pretty sure he forgot to 
 post that letter if he ever wrote it. Never 
 saw a fellow more in love, though. Why, 
 Dick, it makes me think there's somebody 
 somewhere in this world waiting for an 
 old bachelor like me." 
 
 The Reverend Emilius slyly took this 
 turn to cover the glowing excitement his 
 words had produced in Dick. But as just 
 then the music struck up and the leader 
 of the band called out persuasively, " Gen 
 tlemen will please seleck their ladies and
 
 take their places for the fust set," it was 
 the host's duty to lead off the guests of 
 honor into the drawing-room, to open the 
 merry ball. 
 
 The good rector moved away chuckling 
 to himself. He had not thought it neces 
 sary to tell Dick that Blackburn had also 
 communicated to him the business offer 
 he was prepared on the morrow to make 
 to young Wilcox in due form an offer 
 of prospective independence to be won in 
 fashion so congenial that Parson Fauntle- 
 roy had no words in which to couch his 
 satisfaction with Dick's good luck. As 
 the dance progressed, the rector, standing 
 on the outskirts and looking well pleased, 
 happened to catch sight of the portraits of 
 Dick's father and mother, both appearing 
 from amid their Christmas garlands, like 
 wise intent upon the scene, and a lump 
 came into his throat. 
 
 " Their lives and fortunes, poor things, 
 were part of our great sacrifice," he said 
 within himself. " Thank God, their boy 
 has l outsoared the shadow of their night.' " 
 
 At last Dick was free to seek her. They 
 danced together, and at the end of it he 
 [//*]
 
 The Holiday Dance at Worrosquoyacke. p. 113-
 
 asked Camilla to go with him to the Worros- 
 well-remembered china-room, into which quoyacke 
 Sylvie, with artistic sense of color, had 
 put only pink shaded lamps that, with a 
 little fire of oak branches upon the dragon 
 andirons, gave to it a new feeling of 
 warmth and cheer. 
 
 Standing there again upon the faded 
 Turkey rug before the fireplace, they went 
 back together step by step over the months 
 that had separated them. At his solicita 
 tion, Camilla, in delicious fashion, told her 
 tale of wandering abroad with her aunt 
 until they were joined at Cairo by Mr. 
 Blackburn, after which the Countess' en 
 gagement to that gentleman wts made 
 known to every one concerned, and the 
 marriage arranged to take place in Rome 
 in the following November. 
 
 " Ah ! Why did I not know ? " inter 
 rupted he, fiercely. " Why have I lost all 
 this time ? " 
 
 " Could I write to you ? " she asked 
 archly. On her, now, there was no sor 
 row of the past that weighed. " Besides, 
 when Mr. Blackburn told Aunt Elizabeth 
 that he had informed Doctor Fauntleroy,
 
 Worros- and no answer came, pray what was one 
 
 quoyacke to think ? " 
 
 " But you knew oh, tell me you 
 knew," he went on with eager passion in 
 his tones, " that I loved you and wanted 
 you from the first the very, very first. 
 Would you have given yourself to me, 
 here, a year ago, just where we stand, 
 Camilla?" 
 
 " You expect me to admit everything," 
 began the girl, trying, as girls will, to keep 
 at bay the moment of surrender they know 
 is at hand. 
 
 Directly after this a Dresden clock upon 
 the mantel-shelf chimed twelve. Outside 
 arose a babel of sounds : horns, torpedoes, 
 shouts. The negroes around their bon 
 fires were bidding welcome to Christmas 
 morn. Simultaneously, upon the threshold 
 of the boudoir, appeared a little round-eyed 
 darky, an offshoot of Sylvie, sent by his 
 grandmammy to summon his master to 
 lead in the march to supper. But, as this 
 small person heard the sudden noise with 
 out, habit overcame borrowed ceremonial, 
 and with a joyous cadence in his voice he 
 cried : 
 
 [*]
 
 Chrismus' gif ', Marse Dick ! ' Worros- 
 
 And Dick, who, from the beautiful, quoyacke 
 happy eyes and lips close to his had just 
 received his own Christmas gift, did not 
 say the saucy rascal nay. 
 
 ["51
 
 Leaves from the Diary of Ruth 
 Marchmont, Spinster
 
 Leaves from the Diary of Ruth 
 Marchmont, Spinster 
 
 Part I 
 
 BY 9 A.M. this morning, I had finished Leaves 
 my breakfast, and was off to the from the 
 meeting of our branch of the Charity Or- Diary of 
 ganization Society, where I gave in my Ruth 
 report of visits among the poor, heard the March- 
 other reports read, and then walked briskly mont, 
 down Fifth Avenue to Washington Square, Spinster 
 and home to Thirty-fourth Street, in or 
 der to get my muscles into play and my 
 lungs full of fresh air. It was gloriously 
 crisp and clear; the best sort of spring 
 weather in New York. As usual, I made 
 note of all that was passing in the street, 
 and amused myself wondering why so 
 many clever people of my acquaintance 
 find ours such an uninteresting city. To 
 me, every paving-stone and chimney-pot 
 
 ["Pi
 
 Leaves is of interest. But then I was born 
 from the here, and my people before me were citi- 
 Diary of zens and a part of the local system of 
 Ruth - things, and our importance has grown 
 March- with the growth of New York. My 
 montj grandfather, in early life a thrifty and 
 Spinster reputable merchant, amassed wealth, be 
 came mayor of the city, won the respect 
 of the whole community, and, as I remem 
 ber the old gentleman, was a kindly, sim 
 ple-minded, public-spirited man. Until 
 after his death, however, the family had 
 not had the habit of spending money. My 
 father, indeed, was brought up in trade, 
 and had no college education. He mar 
 ried the pretty daughter of a thriving 
 druggist ; mama was ambitious ; their 
 children had every advantage of training ; 
 and to-day we are among the social leaders 
 of New York. But, somehow or other, 
 I am an outsider in the show. When 
 mama gives her great crowded receptions 
 to which all the fashionables come, instead 
 of enjoying myself like the rest of them, I 
 wander through the crush, and note this 
 one and the other one, and speculate about 
 their personality, their aims, their antece-
 
 dents, and the unfitness of so many of them 
 for the high place they occupy. Something 
 seems lacking perhaps it is in me; and 
 yet I do not think I am a morbid or un 
 happy girl. Mama and my sisters say 
 I am a faddist ; a hypercritic, who is not 
 satisfied unless she is finding fault with 
 established things. 
 
 Let me see what I can jot down of a 
 single day's experience, and then try to 
 judge of the whole. 
 
 After my walk, I went for an hour to 
 draw at the Art League, and brought home 
 from there to luncheon with me a girl in 
 whom I am exceedingly interested, Mary 
 Challoner, of Southern birth and good fam 
 ily, charming to look at with her clear 
 darkness of complexion, her eyes so darkly 
 blue, and her profuse silky black hair, the 
 finest little feet and hands ever heard of 
 out of a fairy book, and of the most 
 marked good breeding in manner and ap 
 pearance. The Challoners, I have ascer 
 tained, are dreadfully poor, have drifted 
 to New York to try to make a subsistence. 
 This girl has great talent with her pencil, 
 so much so, that the rest of us at the 
 
 Leaves 
 
 from the 
 
 Diary of 
 
 Ruth 
 
 March- 
 
 mont, 
 
 Spinster
 
 League fall back and gaze on her in de 
 spair; and she has also a surprising gift of 
 song and improvisation. I have fallen 
 into the habit of calling her Corinne, and 
 the others have taken it up. For some 
 monty time, I've been coaxing her to come to our 
 Spinster house, but only to-day would she consent. 
 When we got here, I took her at once to 
 my own " bachelor " quarters, with the sit 
 ting-room opening out of the tiny bedroom, 
 both littered and crowded with things I 
 have picked up in curiosity-shops and 
 travel. After her delight was a little sated, 
 we went down to luncheon. On the 
 threshold of the dining-room, with its 
 antique tapestries and carved black Vene 
 tian furniture, she paused, and drew a 
 breath of satisfaction. u Why, it is like 
 an Italian palace." " It all came out of 
 an old Italian palace, bodily," I said, laugh 
 ing. " Oh ! how I love great dusky spaces 
 and mellow backgrounds," she went on, 
 and the little thrill in her voice made the 
 girls, who were already sitting at the table, 
 turn and look at her in surprise. 
 
 These were my two sisters, Martha and 
 Elizabeth, and the Hamilton-Hooker twins, 
 [122]
 
 two members of the " smart set " much es 
 teemed by our family. Mama was away at 
 a great lunch party somewhere ; and, as I 
 introduced Miss Challoner to the others, I 
 said something in passing about her talent. 
 One of the Hamilton-Hookers actually put 
 up her glass to look at my friend, both 
 barely nodded, and they and my sisters 
 at once resumed their conversation about 
 the " bicycle tea " at Claremont. From 
 that moment, my sweet Corinne was as 
 much ignored among them as if she had 
 been a disembodied spirit. I saw she felt 
 it, that her color came, that she could not 
 eat; and, although I redoubled my efforts 
 to be friendly with her, the wound was 
 none the less deep. Directly after lunch, 
 she went away, and they did not vouch 
 safe an allusion to her. To them, a per 
 son out of their set was simply of no 
 earthly interest, and they had not tact 
 enough to feign what they did not feel. I, 
 who have grown tired of reasoning with 
 my own family on such points as these, 
 shut my lips and said nothing. But I ask 
 myself " are my sisters and the Miss 
 Hamilton-Hookers fit to be models in good 
 
 mont, 
 Spinster
 
 manners to the country at large ? If there 
 were a reform in society, would they be 
 among those who are to dominate the 
 new regime ? " For we need reform, and 
 quickly. Who is to bring it about, I 
 know not, but I believe the day will come. 
 Later that afternoon, a young man called 
 and was kept waiting in the hall. He was 
 a shabby young man, with bright eyes and 
 a handsome eager face. One of the foot 
 men who had admitted him, gauging him 
 by his coat and hat, had very contemptu 
 ously awarded him a seat upon a three- 
 cornered affair of marble ormolu that my 
 father calls the " chair of torture." There 
 he sat, forgotten, till I, passing through the 
 hall again saw him, and asked the reason 
 of his delay. He was the brother of our 
 little nursery-governess, Miss Smith, and, 
 having an hour before leaving for the 
 West, had called to spend it with her. 
 When I heard how he had been ignored, I 
 charged into my mother's morning-room, to 
 which she had just returned from the 
 party uptown. She was tired, her face 
 was flushed, she looked stouter than ever 
 in her costly attire of lace and jet. Full
 
 of complaint against the length of the Leaves 
 entertainment of which she had partaken, from the 
 she would hardly listen to my tale. Her Diary of 
 maid, busy in taking off her street costume, Ruth 
 warned her there was barely time to March- 
 change to another dress that lay upon the mont, 
 bed, in readiness for her day " at home." Spinster 
 " See Miss Smith ? I think that is quite 
 too much," she exclaimed, angrily. "When 
 Miss Smith is the only person who can 
 keep those children in order, and the house 
 is just about to be filled with company. 
 Besides, the children must take their walk. 
 Go at once, Maria, and tell James to ex 
 cuse Miss Smith to her visitor." Throw 
 ing myself into the breach, I pleaded to 
 be allowed to take the children out ; and, 
 for once, carried my point. I knew that 
 mama, who is kind-hearted when not in 
 too great a hurry, or pressed by the observ 
 ances of fashionable life, did not mean to 
 be unjust. The little governess went off 
 joyfully to walk with her brother, and I 
 took in charge the bevy of youngsters who 
 gave me as much as I cared to undertake 
 in the way of mental and physical exer 
 cise until five o'clock.
 
 Then I dressed hastily, and went down 
 stairs. The rooms were well filled, 
 mama's usual " menagerie," as papa and 
 I sometimes jokingly call it. Mama, 
 standing near the doorway, was kept busy 
 receiving newcomers, which she did, how 
 ever, in a perfunctory way, saying little to 
 her guests beyond the conventional " How 
 do you do." Poor dear! she can be lively 
 and agreeable enough, when she has time, 
 but her life is one long straining effort to 
 keep up with the rush. My sisters, at the 
 tea-table, looked lovely, and were dressed 
 in the perfection of good taste. I am 
 always proud of the girls in public, they 
 are, to look at, such charming types of 
 modern American civilization. But I 
 can't say I like the men they choose to 
 bring around them, and to invite to the 
 house. It seems to me that, with our 
 position, our education, our ample means, 
 we might have such delightful people here ; 
 and, from week's end to week's end, no 
 one comes except those few whose names 
 are repeated over and over in the doings 
 of fashionable life. Nor do I admire my 
 sisters' manners to their guests. If they
 
 are interested in conversation with some Leaves 
 of the young men in question, they make from the 
 no effort to be polite to any one else. Diary of 
 Older people, especially, are coldly of- Ruth 
 fered tea, then left to shift for them- March- 
 selves. My sisters, apparently, believe mont, 
 themselves to be of a caste set apart from Spinster 
 the ordinary necessities of civility to, or 
 exertion in behalf of, others. 
 
 A little woman came in and spoke to 
 mama effusively, to whom my mother 
 returned a rather measured greeting. At 
 once, I identified this newcomer as Mrs. 
 Dorval, the wife of a clever and rising 
 young professional man, who has seen 
 a good deal of society during the past 
 winter. When we first knew her at Bar 
 Harbor, some years ago, she was a fresh, 
 lively creature, with a great deal of social 
 tact, witty and original, rather proud of 
 her success in compassing effects with 
 small means. Recently they appear to 
 have had a little increase of income, and 
 she has made a bold dash into fashionable 
 life. They have moved into a new house, 
 give dinners, and she is indefatigable in 
 being seen everywhere. People like
 
 Leaves mama, who have everything they want, 
 from the give her only scant encouragement, but 
 Diary of still she is getting on. Remembering 
 Ruth Mrs. Dorval with pleasure, I advanced 
 March- to greet her. During the little time we 
 mont, stood talking under a portiere, I found it 
 Spinster impossible to rivet her attention to any 
 subject, so eager was she to nod to, and 
 be noticed by, the passing show. Out of 
 her talk every particle of originality has 
 gone. She asked me the usual questions. 
 Had I been to Mrs. X's dance ? Was 
 I going to Mrs. Z's reception ? Did I 
 know that it is whispered the Y's are to 
 be divorced ? In her eyes, I thought 
 I detected a weary look. I know it is 
 said the Dorvals are living beyond their 
 means. I wonder if what they are get 
 ting out of this venture repays them for 
 what has gone into it. Surely, Mrs. 
 Dorval for I believe her husband is 
 not responsible is not a fair type to fit 
 into the reformed society for which we 
 ought to hope. In that blest assemblage, 
 like will fraternize with like ; the iron 
 pots and the earthen pots will swim down 
 the stream in company with their own
 
 kind, not together. I believe half the Leaves 
 discontent I see around me now comes from the 
 from the attempt of mediocre fortune to Diary of 
 pattern itself in all things like the great. Ruth 
 
 Presently, arrived old Mrs. Thompson, March- 
 the wife of one of grandpapa's former mont, 
 partners in business. She, like ourselves, Spinster 
 is very wealthy, and lives in a fine house 
 uptown with richly woven shades of ecru 
 lace at every one of her front windows, 
 and a front door that is all stained glass 
 and ornamental iron-work. But she is not 
 " in society," and, after mama had shaken 
 hands, she was quite at a loss what to do 
 with her most recent guest. Then espy 
 ing a young man standing by unoccupied, 
 a young man who had dined with us 
 over and again, had sat in our opera- 
 box, and spent weeks with us at our house 
 in the country, bringing his valet and his 
 horse, she beckoned him to her. 
 
 " Please take Mrs. Thompson into the 
 other room, and tell Martha and Elizabeth 
 to give her some tea," my mother said. 
 But the gilded youth, muttering something 
 between his teeth, turned on his heel, and 
 left us. 
 
 Op]
 
 " Ruth, remind me never to let that 
 man be asked here again," mama said, in 
 an undertone. But I knew she would 
 relent, and that he would be asked again. 
 With all my heart, I hope his variety will 
 be eliminated from the good society of the 
 future. 
 
 Taking the old lady in charge, I started 
 for the tea-room, and there, to my satis 
 faction, she met Mr. Ledger, one of 
 grandpapa's old clerks, whom my mother 
 declares papa will keep on asking to the 
 house, when there is no longer any reason 
 for it. Mr. Ledger was drinking lemon 
 ade, and eating ices, and nibbling at vari 
 ous little cakes. He looked very happy, 
 and much honored when I consigned Mrs. 
 Thompson to his care. I do believe that, 
 to Mr. Ledger, mama and Mrs. Thomp 
 son are quite in the same grade ; but I am 
 glad mama is not aware of the fact, or 
 Mr. Ledger would then never be allowed 
 to nibble any more little cakes at our 
 house. 
 
 When I turned to go back to mama, 
 I overheard two people discussing the 
 dining-room. " Such an affectation to
 
 try to make it all seem old," said one of Leaves 
 them. "Were you ever in their other from the 
 house ? Anything more frankly bourgeois Diary of 
 was never seen than that establishment. Ruth 
 And they only moved ten years ago." March- 
 " How we apples swim ! " said the other mont, 
 voice. " But all her grandeur cannot Spinster 
 make the mistress look like anything 
 but a chambermaid. The girls are well 
 enough, though the oldest one is a little 
 touched in the upper story, and they sup 
 press her in consequence. But they are 
 all spoiled to death, and need a good tak 
 ing-down in consequence." 
 
 And these were my mother's guests, at 
 that moment engaged in eating her bread 
 and sharing her salt. In the reformed 
 society, I hope it will be out of date to 
 talk against one's hosts, until, at least, the 
 visitors who so desire to express them 
 selves have reached the sidewalk. 
 
 Then I was stopped by Mrs. Delamere, 
 who fancies herself much more to the 
 manner born than we are, and is patron 
 izing in consequence, though, as a fact, 
 they have the start of us by only one 
 generation. She is a large, plain-spoken,
 
 rude woman who, in some way or other, 
 has recently set up as a " Patriot's Grand 
 Daughter," or something of the kind, and 
 has bought a lot of old china and old 
 mahogany to refurnish her dining-room, 
 with row upon row of brand-new " Cop 
 leys " and " Gilbert Stuarts " and the like 
 upon the walls; and these she calls her 
 ancestors. 
 
 " Is it true, my dear, that your mother 
 has made application to become a l Patri 
 ot's Grand Daughter ' ? " she asked me, 
 in a high and cutting voice. u If so, you 
 being the brains of the family, as they say, 
 should warn her that she will have a per 
 fectly horrid time trying to get in." 
 
 " You certainly should know," I said, 
 unable to resist it, and wickedly rejoicing 
 to see her wince. As I moved on in the 
 crowd, I felt humiliated that everything 
 conspired to place us in a false position. 
 In actual truth, mama had never dreamed 
 of being a " Patriot's Grand Daughter," 
 though I don't know what she may do, by 
 next year. Just because we are spending 
 our money liberally and intelligently, and 
 patronizing art in decorating our house, 
 
 [*]
 
 why must we be taunted with aspiring to Leaves 
 be what we are not in American society, from the 
 Surely, these things will all have to be Diary of 
 readjusted before we attain the ideal. Ruth 
 
 At that minute, one of the footmen pre- March- 
 sented himself at my elbow. "If you mont, 
 please, miss, do you think I might be let Spinster 
 off to go away home ? I have had word 
 that my wife is very bad, and there's a 
 new baby, miss, that's come before its 
 time, and I can't get a chance to ask Mrs. 
 Marchmont's leave to go." I at once 
 reported the case in my mother's ear. It 
 was in the interval between the batches of 
 guests, and she looked tired and bored. 
 " Thomas, is it ? How very tiresome. 
 Of course he will have to go ; but there 
 are people to dinner and we need him 
 later. Tell him to come back if he pos 
 sibly can, Ruth. Who knows if the whole 
 thing is not made up ? I have been so 
 often deceived by that class, I can't trust 
 myself to feel sorry for them." 
 
 Thomas escaped with an alacrity and 
 an expression upon his face leaving me 
 no doubt that he was in earnest. But 
 mama was not all to blame for her lack of
 
 sympathy. Time and again we have been 
 taken in, egregiously, and made to regret 
 our kindness to his sort. While I was 
 reflecting upon the fact that in every de 
 partment of our present mode of living, 
 the same unreality crops up to confront us, 
 Mrs. Mammon made her appearance in 
 the room, attended by the last new sen 
 sation in society in the way of a titled 
 foreigner. This was the Vicomte de 
 Videpoche, so notoriously unfitted for the 
 society of decent people, that I felt a rush 
 of indignant blood come to my face when 
 I saw him take the tips of my mother's 
 fingers and bend over them in salutation. 
 Somehow or other, I thought of Poe's 
 story of the " Masque of the Red Death " 
 coming into the room, and how all the 
 revellers fell away from before it. But 
 here was Mrs. Mammon smiling and 
 chatting with him and introducing him to 
 people on either side of her passage through 
 the rooms, and everybody, without an ex 
 ception, smiled on him in return. Regain 
 ing my mother's side, I again whispered in 
 her ear. " Mama, dear, if you love me, 
 give that dreadful man a snub. Don't let 
 
 Ew]
 
 him think you are among the American Leaves 
 matrons he has upon his string." " Ruth, from the 
 you worry me to death ! " exclaimed my Diary of 
 parent, perhaps justly. "And I don't Ruth 
 know what you mean by a dreadful man. March- 
 Vicomte Videpoche is received everywhere, mont, 
 and he is going to dine here this evening." Spinster 
 "Then I stay up stairs," I said. "And 
 oh ! mother, I would give anything in the 
 world I own to prevent his daring to 
 speak to one of our girls." " I should 
 think you might trust your father and 
 mother to judge of such things," she said 
 resentfully. " If you are going on this 
 way, I think you had better stay up stairs. 
 Girls in these days are entirely too much 
 inclined to meddle with things they should 
 know nothing about ; and, for my part, I 
 call ideas like yours decidedly unfeminine, 
 if not worse." 
 
 A little later, some one tells me the 
 newest on dit ; that Videpoche is engaged 
 to Mrs. Mammon's eldest daughter, and 
 their wedding will be the most brilliant 
 affair that has ever been chronicled by the 
 New York newspapers. 
 
 After that, while people came and went
 
 Leaves and I said the civil thing to those of them 
 from the I knew, for I am literally unknown to 
 Diary of half my mother's friends, I felt dis- 
 Ruth heartened and lifeless. All of the glory, 
 March- the love of living, I had brought in from 
 mont, my morning walk had vanished. The 
 Spinster atmosphere around me seemed to be sur 
 charged with the spirit of shame. 
 
 At this point, my hand was taken by 
 my old friend Mrs. Gardiner, before I 
 knew she was near me. " What a beauti 
 ful, ideal home you have, my dear," she 
 said, in her sweet, cheery voice. " And 
 how the contrast with it must strike you 
 in some of those poor flats you and I make 
 visits to. By-the-way, I have had an 
 anonymous subscription to our Working 
 Woman's Recreation Fund, that takes all 
 care ofF my mind for the rest of the sum 
 mer; and I do believe it came from that 
 good father of yours. Your mother, too, 
 sent us a new piano unsolicited, for the 
 1 Home.' I felt so grateful, I had to 
 come here; though I confess I rarely put 
 in an appearance at a c tea.' I often 
 wonder, Ruth, if you and I realize how 
 many good people there are to care for the
 
 poor and helpless in this community that Leaves 
 is so much maligned for its shortcomings, from the 
 Come with me to the University Settle- Diary of 
 ment to-morrow, and we'll have a cosy Ruth 
 talk in the carriage going down." " I am March- 
 so glad you came," I said, rather incohe- mont, 
 rently ; " I needed something to restore Spinster 
 the balance of my spirits, which were 
 down all on one side. Yes, I will go, 
 to-morrow ; and, between us, we shall try 
 to find types of the higher civilization of 
 New York, with which to populate a 
 certain Dreamland I have in mind of a 
 society that is to be wholly lovely and of 
 good report." " I am always interested in 
 your dreamlands," she said, and my heart 
 warmed at her smile ; " and never fear but 
 we shall find your types." 
 
 I was just feeling a little ashamed of 
 myself, when the apparition of one of the 
 Hamilton-Hooker twins, followed by the 
 other, in the doorway beyond mama, re 
 newed some of my rebellion against the 
 artificiality of life. 
 
 " Those girls," I said to Mrs. Gardiner, 
 " are to me among the most trying speci 
 mens of our dominant society. Their 
 
 [w]
 
 handsome faces are like masks of self-sat 
 isfaction and indifference to outside human 
 ity. They are so convinced they are 
 made of superior clay, that many people 
 have ended by conceding as much to them. 
 My sisters look up to them, and copy them, 
 which is the chief reason of my animus 
 in their direction. Really, Mrs. Gardiner, 
 I doubt if either one of them ever knew 
 what it is to perform an unselfish or self- 
 sacrificing action." 
 
 As the second Miss Hamilton-Hooker 
 came into sight, following her sister, we 
 saw that she had, leaning upon her arm, 
 a very old gentleman, tottering, asthmatic, 
 blear-eyed. This was a well-known char 
 acter of New York society, their grand 
 father, once a famous beau and dandy, now 
 a butterfly upon his last flights, anything 
 but agreeable in his physical peculiarities, 
 and yet possessed with a mania for going 
 where other people congregated. As the 
 crowd pressed this pair near to us, I heard 
 him say, querulously, that he wanted to 
 sit down and rest a bit; and I was aston 
 ished at the quiet good temper with which 
 Louisa Hamilton-Hooker guided him to a
 
 chair, and placed him in it, standing there Leaves 
 and taking pains to point out people, and from the 
 chat to him about them. Diary of 
 
 Simultaneously, a man joined them, and Ruth 
 I recognized Delancey Jones, who, report Marck- 
 says, has been playing fast and loose with mont, 
 Louisa's affections, these two seasons past. Spinster 
 He is a handsome fellow, could give her 
 the position she expects in marriage, and 
 on this occasion I saw a blush of satisfac 
 tion at his approach appear upon her placid 
 countenance. 
 
 " Like to go into the room where the 
 new pictures have been hung ? " he said, 
 negligently ; but her eyes flashed joyful 
 assent, and at once she started to accom 
 pany him. 
 
 " Give Louisa her chance, and she'll 
 win," a satirical voice whispered near me. 
 Others than myself were watching the 
 little show. 
 
 " Louisa ! Louisa ! I want you to tell 
 me about all these people," wheezed the 
 shaking grandfather, plucking at her sleeve. 
 
 Poor Louisa looked about for her sister, 
 who was not to be seen. Then, with 
 a sort of appealing glance to the superb 
 
 twl
 
 Leaves Delancey to remain with them, of which 
 from the he took no manner of notice, she declined 
 Diary of his invitation and watched him saunter off. 
 Ruth " That's well ! Send him away, send 
 
 March- him away. Deuced uncivil fellow, any- 
 mont, how. You stay with me, Louisa; and 
 Spinster tell me when anybody comes along I 
 
 ought to speak to," piped the little old 
 
 gentleman. 
 
 As Louisa bent down quite patiently to 
 
 obey him, I saw something very like the 
 
 glimmer of tears in her porcelain blue eyes. 
 "We sha'n't exclude Louisa from all 
 
 our privileges, shall we ? " asked Mrs. 
 
 Gardiner, smiling in answer to my own 
 
 thought. 
 
 [140]
 
 Part II 
 
 Bar Harbor, Mt. Desert Island, Maine, 
 August, 189- 
 
 JUST a year ago our new house at New- Leaves 
 port was finished ; and, after getting from the 
 rid of the workmen with infinite diffi- Diary of 
 culty, and installing in their places all the Ruth 
 beautiful furniture and bric-a-brac she had March- 
 brought from abroad to put into it, mama mont, 
 threw open her stately establishment for Spinster 
 a ball, at which "all the world wondered." 
 Columns of eloquence about the decora 
 tions, the illuminated grounds, the flowers, 
 the supper, the toilettes, filled the papers of 
 the day. The affair was undoubtedly the 
 " smartest " of " smart " functions. Mama 
 confessed to the family afterward, that she 
 could not help comparing it with the tea- 
 parties her own mother used to give in 
 Brooklyn, when mama was a young girl; 
 where they had soda-biscuit, and frizzled 
 beef, and peach preserves, with ice-cream
 
 Leaves for a crowning treat. Somehow or other, 
 
 from the I always like to hear about those tea-par- 
 
 Diary of ties, and my good, plain grandmama at the 
 
 Ruth head of the table "pouring out." But it is 
 
 March- the rarest thing in the world for mama to 
 
 mont, speak of them, in these days, now she is a 
 
 Spinster great lady of the New York plutocracy, 
 
 and her children are so ultra-fashionable 
 
 in their ideas; all except homespun Ruth, 
 
 who persists in leading an independent life, 
 
 and in thinking for herself. 
 
 The desire of mama's heart had been 
 that great house at Newport. To secure 
 it, she first made papa forsake the " cot 
 tage " at Long Branch we once thought 
 so very swell, and rent one at Newport, 
 season after season, until gradually he was 
 brought around to the idea of building 
 there for himself. The result was a stone 
 villa of the most exquisite beauty in de 
 sign, erected by one of our great archi 
 tects ; and, in one year, the landscape 
 gardeners and florists brought the grounds 
 to external perfection. The bills stag 
 gered even my long-suffering and gen 
 erous father ; but they were paid, and the 
 opening ball was given ; and last season
 
 was passed by us in a blaze of fashion- Leaves 
 able glory. Just what we had been doing from the 
 all the winter in New York, we did over Diary of 
 again at Newport. We drove, we visited, Ruth 
 or went to luncheons and musicales and March- 
 afternoon parties, every day j in the even- mont, 
 ing there were dinners and balls, at all of Spinster 
 which mama made a point of being seen 
 with her younger daughters. My sisters 
 Martha and Elizabeth are beauties, and 
 consider themselves fin-de-siecle in all re 
 spects. As papa says, they take to all 
 this grandeur as ducks take to the water; 
 though that is an illustration mama re 
 gards as vulgar. I, only, Ruth, aged 
 twenty-five, thin, dark, nothing much to 
 look at, a book-worm and a dreamer, fail 
 to do credit to the Marchmont display be 
 fore the eyes of society. 
 
 What I started out to say was that, after 
 their extremely brilliant and successful 
 first season in our new house, my father 
 naturally expected to see his wife and 
 daughters return there to occupy it this 
 summer. But to his surprise, mama an 
 nounced, early in the spring, that her 
 rheumatism made it absolutely necessary
 
 for her to try a German bath-cure, and 
 that rather than be separated from the dear 
 girls, and the nursery children, they would 
 all spend the summer abroad. Accord 
 ingly, the Newport house remains shut up, 
 for mama is quite too great a lady to think 
 of letting her domicile for another family to 
 live in. Early in June, the " Paris " took over 
 in her best deck staterooms, Mrs. March- 
 mont, the Misses Marchmont, the young 
 Masters and Misses Marchmont, a variety 
 of governesses, maids, and valets-de-place^ 
 with a mountain of luggage that will be 
 increased after they pass through Paris 
 coming home. Papa, and my brother 
 John who is at college, and I, went off to 
 a farm we have in New Hampshire, where 
 I am to rejoin them later. And I then 
 accepted the invitation of my friend Mrs. 
 Wentworth, whom no one can help lov 
 ing, to spend August at her cottage at Bar 
 Harbor. 
 
 We arrived here last night, my maid 
 and I, after a tiresome journey from Bos 
 ton. But all the way I was saying to 
 myself: "What a delight to escape the 
 trammels of Newport conventionality, and
 
 go to a place where nature is the supreme Leaves 
 charm ! " Often as I had heard of the from the 
 rock-bound island in northern seas, where Diary of 
 mountains rise directly from the chafing Ruth 
 sea, and views are beautiful, and air is life- March- 
 giving, I had never been here. My fash- mont, 
 ionable friends had so often said to me : Spinster 
 " After Newport, Bar Harbor is such a 
 delicious rest." More than one artist has 
 told me that everything here is so pictu 
 resque, and at the same time within the 
 scope of eye and imagination. As we 
 sailed hither yesterday across the bay at 
 sunset, and I saw the rugged range of blue 
 mountains rise against softly radiant sky, I 
 went out alone on the deck, forward, and 
 silently took it all in, in thankfulness that 
 I am at last permitted to enjoy it. Here, 
 I said, we shall be far from the madding 
 crowd of gayety-seekers. We shall live 
 abroad, tramping the hills in loose moun 
 tain costume, or boating and canoeing 
 upon this sapphire sea. 
 
 At this juncture, a young man whom I 
 had met last season at dinner, Hugh Elliott, 
 who was standing near me on the deck, 
 turned, identified me, and took off his hat.
 
 Leaves He, too, was on his way to spend a month 
 from the at Bar Harbor, and, as an old frequenter 
 Diary of of the place, he undertook to point out the 
 Ruth localities, and give me any such information 
 March- as I desired. I was glad to meet Mr. Elliott 
 mont, again. During our brief intercourse of one 
 Spinster evening last winter, he had impressed me 
 as manly, intelligent, and unaffected. But 
 as he had then evidently chosen to regard 
 me as just " one of the Marchmonts," 
 whose name in New York is synonymous 
 with extravagant fashion, there was only 
 cool civility in his manner toward me; 
 now he seemed surprised to hear that I 
 was going to stop with Mrs. Wentworth. 
 "Dear Cousin Kate," he said with a 
 scarcely disguised curl of the lip ; " she 
 has more strength and more weakness in 
 her small body than any woman I know of. 
 She is so absurdly good to all the world, 
 and she has not the courage of her convic 
 tions to keep out of a society that she can 
 not approve. You will see all there is to 
 see of Bar Harbor gayety at Cousin Kate's 
 cottage. She believes herself a hermit, 
 whereas, in actual fact, she is in the centre 
 of the social system. I used to stop with
 
 her myself. But I found that if I wanted Leaves 
 rational enjoyment I must seek it else- from the 
 where. Fancy putting on a long-tailed Diary of 
 coat and varnished shoes, and wearing a Ruth 
 high hat, at a Bar Harbor * tea.' Yet that March- 
 is what some of these latter-day decadents mont, 
 have come to. And the dinners are as Spinster 
 numerous, as long, as conventional, as those 
 at Newport. Believe me, you will feel 
 quite at home." 
 
 I was divided between my desire not to 
 say another word to this scornful person 
 age, and my curiosity to hear more. 
 
 " Putting me and my tastes quite out of 
 the question," I answered, with self-con 
 trol, " is it possible that there is a regularly 
 organized system of fashionable life here ? 
 When I have heard people rave over it, I 
 thought their delight was in the drives, and 
 rides, and canoeing, the unrestraint of life 
 being understood." 
 
 "Surely you are not old enough to 
 remember the days when such an aborigi 
 nal state of things prevailed ? " he said. 
 " Long ago, when I came here as a boy, 
 and later, in my college vacations, we went 
 all day long in flannels, and concerned our-
 
 selves not a jot about conventions. But 
 now well, here we are, and, if I am so 
 fortunate as to find you and my cousin 
 Kate at home some day soon, you will tell 
 me your impressions of the place." 
 
 The Wentworths were on the wharf to 
 meet me, Kate charmingly dressed in a 
 pink cotton that must have cost a fortune 
 to make and trim as she had it. A French 
 hat of pink chip with a forest of black 
 feathers was upon her wise, kind, but over- 
 busy little head. She led me through a 
 crowd of people to a jaunty buckboard with 
 a pair of ponies, and a man in u smart " 
 livery to drive. While we whisked through 
 the streets, I was surprised again to see 
 shops like those at Newport, the sidewalk 
 thronged with men and women in ultra- 
 stylish costumes, the way encumbered with 
 vehicles of the latest build ; every evidence 
 of gay society in full swing. Kate's whole 
 time was taken up with nodding to people 
 among whom I recognized many fre 
 quenters of our house in town. 
 
 " Oh ! yes, the place is jammed," said 
 my friend, when she could speak to me. 
 " Sometimes I wish it were not so ; but
 
 I've been here so long, I've a natural 
 interest in seeing Bar Harbor come to the 
 front. We always feel as if it is a brand 
 snatched from the burning, when a New 
 port c regular ' comes here and come 
 they do, more every year, because it is 
 more countrified, I suppose, all told, than 
 Newport. And the air would put life into 
 a moribund, as you will find. I don't 
 know about its being cheaper here. The 
 whole scale of things has gone up with 
 every year of prosperity. And an enor 
 mous lot of money has gone into building 
 great houses, and reclaiming wild land to 
 make it as perfect as a park." 
 
 " I see nothing like a picnic," I exclaimed 
 in disappointment. " These women saun 
 tering along the plank-walk are all dressed 
 in the most costly summer frocks like 
 yours, dear, pretty, but overdone." 
 
 "There speaks my Timon," said Kate, 
 who is used to my sharp sayings. " I'll 
 declare, Ruth, the only person who is 
 crusty enough to match with you, is my 
 cousin Hugh Elliott ; and, as I live, there 
 he is stalking up the street to his old 
 lodgings in that little village house."
 
 " We crossed the bay together," I said 
 briefly. " But let us talk of this place. 
 It looks to me as if I am not going* to 
 taste the flavor I have always heard is Bar 
 Harbor's own especial charm." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Kate, who 
 had turned aside to bow to a foreign diplo 
 mat driving a tandem dog-cart. " Look, 
 Ruth, there are your sisters' friends, the 
 Hamilton-Hookers, in that victoria. Their 
 mother has taken a house here this sum 
 mer, and is entertaining tremendously. We 
 are due there, at a musicale, to-morrow 
 afternoon, for which they have brought a 
 string quartet from Boston, and a prima 
 donna from New York. Then you are 
 asked to a woman's luncheon at the Kebo 
 Valley Club to-morrow, and I have some 
 people coming to dinner in your honor 
 to-morrow evening. On the chance that 
 he might be in town, I sent a note asking 
 Hugh Elliott also, but I doubt if he 
 turns up." 
 
 A week later. 
 
 So much had I written when I laid 
 down my pen ; and, until to-day, I have 
 not resumed it. I might begin again, by
 
 saying that Kate's intuition was perfectly 
 correct. Mr. Elliott did not turn up at 
 her dinner, but sent a very formal "regret," 
 instead. I might never have seen him 
 again, except that, two days later, I went 
 out in the Wentworths' row-boat on a 
 smooth sea, propelled by Kate's fourteen- 
 year-old boy, who is a delightfully frank, 
 sweet lad. I had taken the oars from him, 
 and lost one of them, which floated away, 
 leaving us rather absurdly helpless. Then 
 a man in a canoe came along and recovered 
 the oar, and brought it back to us. This 
 hero proved to be Mr. Elliott, already 
 browned by Mt. Desert suns and life in 
 the open air. He lingered there beside 
 us in the glowing evening light, amid that 
 wonderful loveliness of landscape that 
 makes one forget all social exuberances of 
 the place in the joys nature confers at every 
 turn. Without intending to do so, I said 
 something to this effect, and Mr. Elliott 
 responded in kind. We had a merry, 
 jolly talk, in which Jack Wentworth took 
 his full share, and it ended by our agreeing 
 to go with Mr. Elliott the next day I 
 in his canoe, Jack in the boat over to 
 
 Leaves 
 
 from the 
 
 Diary of 
 
 Ruth 
 
 March- 
 
 mont, 
 
 Spinster
 
 Leaves 
 from the 
 Diary of 
 Ruth " 
 Marcb- 
 mont^ 
 Spinster 
 
 Sheep Porcupine, to spend the afternoon. 
 Mr. Elliott appeared to much better advan 
 tage than I have ever seen him before. 
 
 Ten days later. 
 
 I don't know why it is so much harder 
 to make regular entries in my diary here 
 than in New York or at Newport, even. 
 One is so perpetually wooed away by 
 charming effects of cloud upon the water, 
 and by other things. Kate's house is like 
 a bonbonniere, close to the water's edge, all 
 white enamel paint inside, with soft-hued 
 chintzes, and dainty bits of porcelain, and 
 flower-boxes in every window the pretti 
 est place imaginable, and just suited to her 
 Dresden china looks. I am all out of 
 harmony with it in appearance, but she has 
 given me a most bewitching bedroom that 
 seems to hang over the water; and here, 
 while Kate is away at her endless parties, 
 I sit and gaze at the far hills upon the 
 mainland ; at the islands with their spikes 
 of fir trees, scattered in the bay ; at the 
 glory of dawn and sunset ; and ponder 
 upon other things ! 
 
 Bar Harbor is better than I thought.
 
 Part III 
 
 Lenox, October, 189. 
 
 AFTER the month of August spent at 
 Bar Harbor with my friend Mrs. 
 Wentworth in her charming cottage by the 
 sea, I returned to join my father and brother 
 at our farm in New Hampshire, where papa 
 makes a pretence of breeding fine cattle, 
 and potters about in a straw hat and old 
 coat forgetting the fashionable existence 
 into which he has been translated late in 
 life by his ambitious wife and younger 
 daughters. My brother John, who, to his 
 mother's disgust, is a born farmer, really 
 " runs " the place. I think he would like 
 nothing better than to spend his days here, 
 improving the forests around us, and look 
 ing after the crops and stock. Papa, who 
 expects John to go into the business that 
 was the foundation of all our wealth, has 
 to be always reminding the poor dear boy 
 that as soon as college days are over, he 
 
 Leaves 
 
 from the 
 
 Diary of 
 
 Ruth 
 
 March- 
 
 mont, 
 
 Spinster
 
 must " buckle down to work in the office, 
 in town. " I have once or twice remarked 
 to my father, that, as rich as we are, we 
 might surely let John follow out his own 
 choice of life. But papa says, and perhaps 
 with truth, he has no such sum of money 
 accumulated as would suffice to support 
 all his seven children in the style in which 
 they have been brought up. "You are 
 the only one of 'em, Ruthie," he says to 
 me with a dry smile, " that, I think, could 
 work for a living, if necessity compelled 
 you to do so. You remind me of my own 
 mother, child; she was one of the lean 
 kine, like you, and never knew when to 
 leave oft" work." 
 
 Late in September, I was obliged to go 
 down to Newport, and look into the affairs 
 of the family of care-takers who, during 
 my mother's absence in Europe, had been 
 left in charge of what the newspapers 
 called the "Marchmont palace." It seems 
 that burglars, arrested on the premises, 
 proved to be near relations of these esti 
 mable guardians of our home. It was there 
 fore necessary to turn them out, and install 
 others. My father, easy going, ancj not
 
 inclined to exertion, accepted my offer Leaves 
 to attend to the whole matter. I spent from the 
 a day in solitary majesty in the great, Diary of 
 splendid, shut-up house, and then my Ruth 
 dear friend and co-worker in many char- March- 
 ities, Mrs. Gramercy, of New York, mont, 
 came and carried me off to pass the re- Spinster 
 mainder of the week with her in her 
 Newport cottage. 
 
 In Agatha Gramercy's company I al 
 ways feel at my best. She is eager, alert, 
 full of high aims and impossible fancies 
 like myself, but infinitely more pleasing 
 and pliant and winning to outsiders in her 
 way of expressing these ideas. She softens 
 my asperity of temper ; she encourages me 
 to believe there is something worth living 
 for in the circle of society we both belong 
 to ; and, at her house, one is always sure 
 of meeting live people. 
 
 At the end of the week nothing would 
 suffice Agatha but that I should accompany 
 her on a visit to her mother, who has a 
 house at Lenox. That accounts for the 
 heading of this entry in my diary. When 
 I left the farm, I had no idea of doing 
 anything but return there to await the 
 
 [W]
 
 arrival of my mother and sisters in New 
 York in mid-October. 
 
 There has been a change in their plans 
 also. Martha, the older of the two girls, 
 has become engaged to young Sir Wil- 
 loughby Caton, a baronet who has one or 
 two beautiful houses in England, and 
 spends his time on the Continent because 
 he cannot afford to keep up his ancestral 
 homes. Mama had written to my father 
 at length about the prospect of a proposal 
 from Sir Willoughby at the German spa 
 where they were all stopping. When the 
 proposal came, there was nothing for her 
 to do, therefore, but cable for papa's con 
 sent. As if he, poor dear, had ever vent 
 ured to go contrary to mama and Martha 
 and Elizabeth. So he obediently cabled 
 back his acquiescence, and as he says, "the 
 ladies " will soon be in Paris buying the 
 trousseau. The wedding is to occur in 
 New York in November, and Martha will 
 at once sail for her new home. She seems 
 to be enchanted with her prospects. How 
 much of it is love for the man, how much 
 excitement over her title, her trousseau, 
 the new tiara papa is to be made to give
 
 her, and all the rest of it, I can't make out. 
 
 One thing is certain. Sir Willoughby is 
 
 the " real thing," in the matter of position, 
 
 or Martha would not have taken him. She 
 
 is as level-headed a young woman as she is 
 
 beautiful and distinguished in appearance, mont^ 
 
 Papa will give her a liberal portion, and Spinster 
 
 what will become of Elizabeth unless she, 
 
 too, captures a title, I do not know. Those 
 
 girls have always seemed to think there is 
 
 nobody in their own country who can 
 
 offer what they merit in point of lofty 
 
 place. 
 
 How different it is with me. I but 
 then, I shall never marry. The few 
 who have sought me have wanted papa's 
 daughter, and papa's daughter's dot. He 
 whom I would no, I shall certainly 
 never marry. It is not upon the cards. 
 
 We have come to Lenox in its loveliest 
 season of the year. The rolling hill coun 
 try is full of delightful variety to the eye. 
 We go out every day for long drives, over 
 breezy uplands, down into verdant hollows 
 where lie jewel-bright lakes, between hills 
 clothed with wonderful masses of forest 
 foliage, just now radiant in tints I cannot
 
 Leaves describe. Some of the views from the 
 from the verandas of this house where I am staying 
 Diary of are like Turner's best canvases in point 
 Ruth of rich, soft, luminous color. I do not 
 March- wonder that wealthy, leisurely folk come 
 mont, here to linger away from New York and 
 Spinster Boston until nearly Christmas-time. The 
 air of the place, the houses, and the enter 
 tainments are more quiet and mellow than 
 anything in Newport or Bar Harbor. 
 There does not seem to be the strain in 
 living here. The inevitable dinners and 
 luncheons go on just as in the other re 
 sorts I have named, but one comes in to 
 dress for them after rides and drives into 
 the very fastnesses of Nature, through 
 shady, moss-carpeted woods amid a rain 
 of tinted leaves, or upon good roads high 
 among the hills looking over miles of 
 peaceful rural country. This daily attri 
 tion with Nature is restful and refresh 
 ing, and, after it, to " look in " as Agatha 
 calls it, at the pretty houses with the pleas 
 ant people around their tea-tables and 
 luncheon tables, is not a bad experience. 
 Perhaps Agatha's companionship is the 
 secret of my contentment here. And
 
 then, neither she nor her dear old mother, Leaves 
 Mrs. Weldon, pushes one to enjoy one's from the 
 self. There is never, at their breakfast Diary of 
 table, a breathless review of the engage- Ruth 
 ments for the day. They never go any- March- 
 where in the morning hours, unless to mont, 
 walk into the village. Every guest seeks Spinster 
 his or her own diversion, and is unchal 
 lenged by the hostess. Agatha, like me, 
 will not accept an invitation to a set lun 
 cheon, which she declares unfits one for 
 healthy exertion during the rest of the 
 afternoon and evening. To repeat such 
 a meal at dinner, a few hours later, is 
 beyond normal capacity, and no doubt 
 accounts for the " too solid flesh " under 
 which many of our American matrons 
 are groaning. In England, no matter 
 how great the establishment, luncheon is 
 a simple meal, with at most a couple of 
 hot dishes ; and people take what they 
 prefer are not served with each dish in 
 turn at their elbows. At some houses in 
 Lenox this same agreeable fashion pre 
 vails, and the Weldons' is of that kind. 
 Another nice thing about Lenox is the 
 habit of resorting to sit out upon velvet
 
 Leaves lawns, to look on at tennis or archery. 
 from the There is more land enclosed here, for pur- 
 Diary of poses of pleasure, around the houses, than 
 Ruth in most places of summer resort I know ; 
 March- and I dare say that, after all, is what gives 
 mont, Lenox its air of undeniable good-breeding 
 Spinster and reserve. 
 
 Having written so much in favor of 
 Lenox, I go back with a sudden exhila 
 ration of spirit to the memory of Bar 
 Harbor. Certain brilliant mornings out- 
 of-doors there, in the saddle among the 
 woods of pine and birch, certain after 
 noons in boat or canoe cutting the tranquil 
 bosom of the bay, or riding the swell of 
 the long Atlantic waves off the seaward 
 coast of the island, rise up before me 
 with irresistible power. I think I had 
 rather repeat these experiences than do 
 anything else in the world ; and I have 
 knowledge of a great many other choice 
 places in the world. 
 
 Ah me ! I have written that down 
 because I found myself actually saying it 
 aloud. I ruffle the leaves of this book, 
 and subsequent to a certain day in August, 
 I find no mention of Bar Harbor. Over 
 
 [**]
 
 and again, I have tried to put into black Leaves 
 and white emotions felt there during that from the 
 month, and have failed to do so. I can Diary of 
 hardly believe it is cool, self-contained, 
 indifferent Ruth Marchmont, who has 
 spent years of her life analyzing the 
 springs of action and feeling among those Spinster 
 around her, who dares not trust herself to 
 revert to an experience in which the chief 
 part was played by a man who could go 
 off and leave her without an expression 
 of regret ! 
 
 During four weeks at Bar Harbor, in 
 August, I saw Hugh Elliott almost every 
 day. From casual and rather antagonistic 
 acquaintance, we passed into a sympathy 
 of mind and feeling that is unique in my 
 experience. All this, be it understood, 
 without a hint of the relation between 
 man and girl that generally takes on a sen 
 timental complexion, and ends by wrecking 
 what might otherwise have been an ideal 
 friendship. But I was doomed to a dis 
 appointment in him, that has left me sore 
 indeed. One afternoon he called and left 
 two cards, two miserable little conven 
 tional visiting cards, one for my hostess,
 
 Leaves the other for me. The next day we heard 
 from the that he had left Bar Harbor. From that 
 Diary of day to this, I have never had a word, good, 
 Ruth bad, or indifferent, to show that he remem- 
 March- bers my existence. 
 
 mont, The above, as usual, was penned after 
 
 Spinster I went to my room at night. After writ 
 ing the last word, I heard a tap at my 
 door, and Agatha, in her trailing robe de 
 chambre^ of pearl color with rosy linings, 
 came in. " I thought I should find you 
 scribbling," she said ; " but I want a few 
 words with you before you go to sleep. 
 I've had a letter I want to consult you 
 about. You know my husband has a tre 
 mendous friendship with Hugh Elliott." 
 I started like a school-girl in love, but 
 Agatha did not appear to notice me. " I 
 wonder if I ever told you, dear, what a 
 splendid fellow we think Hugh is. The 
 'man of the future,' I always call him. 
 And when you and I set our ideal society 
 in order, he will occupy a high place in 
 it. Well born, more than well educated, 
 strong, and self-reliant, an American of 
 the best type, I had in my heart, associ 
 ated him, without knowing why, with you.
 
 Yet I could never get him to meet you. Leaves 
 He had a rooted objection to your l class ' from the 
 in society ; and I am too proud of you, 
 Ruth, to vaunt your attractions in such a 
 way. Why did you never tell me he met 
 you last summer at Bar Harbor; that he mont, 
 fell in love as fervently and earnestly as it Spinster 
 is possible for a man to do; that he left 
 you abruptly because he feared to trust 
 himself with a girl between whom and 
 himself there is such disparity of fortune. 
 Lately something very nice has happened 
 to him, an advance in place; a man as 
 clever as he was bound to get ahead, and 
 he is now sure. As it happened, mama 
 had invited him to come to-morrow for 
 a l Saturday-to-Monday,' and he accepts, 
 without knowing you are here. Now, 
 Ruth, I think too much of both of you, 
 to let him come, if " 
 
 "If what, Agatha," I said quite help 
 lessly, not knowing the sound of my own 
 voice. 
 
 " Oh ! Ruth, dear, as if I do not know 
 you better than you do yourself. What 
 is it that has so altered you of late ? " 
 
 " Agatha, if you do, I shall never for-
 
 Leaves give you as long as I live," I exclaimed 
 
 from the unmeaningly, and then cried ; and so did 
 
 Diary of she. And we kissed each other fondly, 
 
 Ruth as I am afraid the strong ideal women of 
 
 March- our future dreamland never will do. 
 
 Spinster Sunda x "feto- 
 
 I have been sitting out on the veranda 
 with Mr. Elliott. The stars shone bright, 
 and the air, soft as midsummer, was laden 
 with the delicious scents of autumn. 
 
 He says we shall work out together my 
 dream of a higher life.
 
 Thirteen at Table
 
 Thirteen at Table 
 
 IF any one had told Felicia Charlton, the Thirteen 
 year before, that she would be spend- a f Table 
 ing this summer at Newport as a dweller 
 in one of the most famous of the new 
 houses that are the glory of that favored 
 resort, she would have laughed in the face 
 of the recounter of such a fairy-tale, 
 that merry heartsome laugh of hers, for 
 Felicia well deserved her name. 
 
 But the event least expected had oc 
 curred. The gay, pretty, poverty-stricken 
 Southern girl, the daughter of an ancient 
 line; who during her nineteen years of 
 life had never known any but the hard 
 rubs of fortune; who had grown up to 
 womanhood under the wing of a widowed 
 mother scarce eighteen years her senior, 
 as lovely to look at as is Felicia herself, 
 but for the traces left on her face and form 
 by care and by thought how to make a 
 subsistence for the two and to provide an
 
 education for Felicia that should enable 
 her to be self-supporting. 
 
 Latterly things had gone from bad to 
 worse with the Charltons. They had 
 spent one year in the desolation of a poor 
 country neighborhood with relatives glad 
 of the pittance their board afforded ; and 
 at the end of it, Mrs. Charlton had ac 
 cepted an offer from a friend of early days 
 who was about to open a boarding-school, 
 to act as her housekeeper. At the same 
 time, Felicia entered upon the exhilarating 
 career of assistant to a decayed gentle 
 woman in Baltimore, who made and sold 
 the pickles and preserves so renowned in 
 old-time Maryland cook-books. And all 
 this while the girl's high spirits had never 
 flagged. She had laughed and prattled, 
 and won smiles from the little mother in 
 her hours of darkest despondency. She 
 had even coaxed into moments of cheer 
 fulness the broken-spirited lady who manu 
 factured pickles and preserves ; and, while 
 carrying on her uncongenial work, lost no 
 opportunity of looking for something better. 
 In this stress, to Felicia's credit be it in 
 scribed, it did not occur to her to write
 
 verses, or a story, and send them to a first- Thirteen 
 class magazine. at Table 
 
 Summer had come around again, and the 
 prospect of spending it in a piping hot flat, 
 in the temperature of Baltimore, between 
 June and October, and in the company of 
 Mrs. Ballantyne and her gas stove, was 
 all that presented itself to Felicia's mental 
 gaze. But in her heart a little bird kept 
 singing, over and over, the blithe tidings 
 that her mother's employer was to take 
 her old friend on a visit of two months 
 to the mountains of Virginia, where Miss 
 Kennard was wont to return in her vaca 
 tions to the household of parents who could 
 give her food and drink and a shelter, at 
 least. How much better was this than 
 Felicia had dared to hope ! Fresh air, 
 fresh milk, shade trees on a green lawn, 
 the Blue Ridge Mountains encompassing 
 their daily horizon, what matter if the 
 poor old plantation house were falling to 
 rack and ruin, so that there was a roof to 
 cover Felicia's dear little mother, to whom 
 all these luxuries were promised by Miss 
 Kennard. 
 
 It had not been without a fierce mater-
 
 Thirteen nal struggle in the little widow's breast, 
 at Table that this invitation had been accepted. 
 That she should be taken, and Felicia 
 left, cost her gentle heart strange pangs. 
 But Felicia, who had a way with her none 
 could withstand, had simply forced her 
 point. She had packed her mother's 
 trunk, had gone with her to the station, 
 had parted with her to all appearance joy 
 fully, and then, to save car-fare, had set out 
 to walk over the burning bricks of the pave 
 ment, on her return to Mrs. Ballantyne's. 
 Just then, a little victoria had driven 
 close to the sidewalk near her, and pulled 
 up. A young woman charmingly dressed 
 had leaned forward and hailed her by 
 name. Felicia with a start of pleasant 
 surprise recognized an old schoolmate, a 
 western heiress who had recently married 
 and taken up her abode here in her hus 
 band's city. 
 
 Between the two girls had passed the 
 usual expressions of fervent greeting, and 
 Felicia, promptly installed under the hood 
 of the victoria, was quickly on the way 
 with Mrs. Branham to her pretty bridal 
 home. 
 
 [7/0]
 
 What a contrast to it was presented by Thirteen 
 the dull and paltry sitting-room of Mrs. at Table 
 Ballantyne's flat, where, later, whilst ad 
 justing their modest tea-table, Felicia tried 
 to entertain her employer with her new 
 budget of gossip. But the dame, who had 
 a touch of toothache, and was not much in 
 sympathy with the holiday side of life of 
 which so little had fallen to her share, 
 responded sparely, and Felicia, after wash 
 ing the tea-things, had retired to the back 
 window to get a breath of air while medi 
 tating upon the exciting incidents of the 
 day. 
 
 More than on anything Maud Branham 
 had shown her, Felicia dwelt upon a hint 
 Maud had let fall of helping her to better 
 her fortunes. 
 
 " I have a cousin, Mrs. Dwight Cald- 
 well, who goes to Newport every summer 
 from New York," the bride observed; 
 " and I think, though I am not sure, I 
 heard her say she wishes to engage a sec 
 retary to take there with her this year. I 
 can easily ask, Felicia; and I'm sure, if 
 you got it, you'd be in luck. Such a 
 splendid establishment hers is, this of
 
 Thirteen mine would be swallowed up in it, and 
 at Table they entertain everybody and go every 
 where. She is one of the people one 
 reads about in the society columns of the 
 Sunday newspapers. Her husband is a 
 nice fellow, but he spends most of his 
 time at the club. Sally Caldwell certainly 
 goes at full speed in society, but she has 
 always been a good-natured thing when 
 I've seen her, and I don't doubt you'd be 
 good friends. I shall write this very night 
 and ask Sally ; and how awfully jolly it will 
 be if I succeed ! " 
 
 Felicia, in her calmer mood, recalling 
 Maud at school as a kind, chattering, but 
 somewhat dense creature, had a moment's 
 hesitation about trusting to the judgment 
 of her friend. But all night long her 
 dreams were roseate. A situation as sec 
 retary with a salary that she could lay by 
 for her mother's use next winter ! As 
 friend and patron, a brilliant cultured 
 woman of the world who would inspire 
 in her a thousand new ideas, as well as 
 open the door for her into a wonder world 
 of luxurious beauty ! Above all, oppor 
 tunity to see something beyond her accus- 
 
 '
 
 tomed horizon, to breathe a fresh delicious Thirteen 
 atmosphere, to see everywhere sights of at Table 
 refined loveliness ! Oh ! it was too good 
 to be true. 
 
 A few days later, a note arrived from 
 Maud Branham asking Felicia to luncheon 
 the next day; and when Felicia presented 
 herself as desired, no time was lost by the 
 good-natured young matron in communi 
 cating her great news. Sally Caldwell 
 was already at Newport ; Sally Caldwell 
 had just sent away a girl she had taken 
 there who turned out to be absurdly stupid 
 and inefficient, and saucy, too; and Sally 
 Caldwell was prepared to accept Maud's 
 friend upon Maud's recommendation, pro 
 vided she would " come right away," 
 naming a salary that seemed to Felicia's 
 limited experience a king's ransom in 
 amount. 
 
 The girl's head swam ; a mist came 
 before her eyes. When she recovered 
 her self-possession enough to speak, it 
 was, woman-like, to ask Maud's advice 
 about the clothes she possessed, and the 
 clothes she would require. Maud, also 
 a true daughter of Eve, was here quite 
 
 [TO]
 
 Thirteen in her element. Not only did she gener- 
 at Table ously offer to lend Felicia money for her 
 journey, but, after luncheon, took her to 
 her room, and there produced two or 
 three frocks and jackets and bonnets of 
 which Felicia was requested to make her 
 choice. 
 
 " For you know, dear, if I have a 
 weakness, it is for always buying some 
 thing in the latest fashion, and disliking 
 it when bought. It is ridiculous, the 
 things I have stored away that I can 
 never use, and that never would suit me 
 anyhow. If you can't take these as a 
 present from an old friend and school 
 mate, why, I shall never speak to you 
 again as long as I live." 
 
 Felicia's laugh rang out. Here was 
 Maud's old familiar threat of school 
 days. Just now, she seemed to be an 
 irresistible fairy-godmother, who had only 
 to wave her stick to be obeyed. 
 
 Mrs. Charlton, in her remote Virginia 
 refuge, had read her darling's first letter 
 from Newport with almost ecstatic pride 
 and joy. It seemed to the poor lady
 
 that no one had ever been blessed with Thirteen 
 such a lovely and loving and clever and at Table 
 successful daughter as was she. After 
 she had perused the epistle for the second 
 time, she took it out upon what old Mrs. 
 Kennard called the "front poache." This 
 was a rickety veranda over which grew 
 a vine of custard honeysuckle; and here 
 old Mr. Kennard sat, tilted upon his chair, 
 under a shelf supporting the water bucket 
 and a gourd, conning a weekly newspaper. 
 Near at hand, sitting also in a split-bottom 
 chair, with her knitting, the old lady lis 
 tened with admiration to the occasional 
 oracles of information transmitted to her 
 from the columns before him through her 
 husband's eyes. After long practise in 
 receiving her news and literature thus at 
 second hand, she had grown to esteem 
 him personally responsible for the well- 
 rounded sentences. Coming around the 
 corner of the house, Miss Kennard, in a 
 sunbonnet, was seen carrying in a wooden 
 bowl a brood of motherless chicks. Upon 
 the threshold of the door, and on both 
 steps of the porch, dogs were doz 
 ing. " How trivial everything else will
 
 Thirteen seem," thought the little widow, advan- 
 at Table cing proudly among them with her letter, 
 
 "when they hear what my child thinks 
 
 of Newport." 
 
 Whilst these things were occurring in 
 far tranquil Virginia, Felicia was looking 
 daily upon the passing show of Newport. 
 What a thrilling effect upon her imagina 
 tion had been created by the first view of 
 the sumptuous part of the town, as she 
 approached it in the little trap that had 
 been sent to meet her on arrival. It 
 happened to be at an hour when the gay 
 world was on wheels ; and while our little 
 girl was gazing with all her eyes upon the 
 kaleidoscope of vehicles and people, she 
 observed the groom, who was driving her, 
 touch his hat to a handsome, haughty lady, 
 whose gaze just then fell upon them from 
 her victoria. Felicia saw that she was 
 the object of this lady's thorough and 
 perfectly frigid scrutiny and, to her 
 surprise, became aware that the survey 
 was followed by an infinitesimal nod in 
 her direction. 
 
 When the carriages had passed each
 
 other, the groom, leaning back, said in Thirteen 
 rather too jocular a fashion for Felicia's at Table 
 sense of propriety : 
 
 " That's her. That's the madam, goin' 
 out for her drive." 
 
 Felicia, answering him with a cold look, 
 asked no questions. The incident, occur 
 ring upon the threshold of her new ex 
 perience, struck her unpleasantly. With 
 her simple, hearty, Southern ideas, she 
 could not imagine arrival in a strange 
 house without some sort of a personal 
 welcome from the hostess ; and the 
 quality of that investigating gaze was to 
 her totally unknown. But, taking heart, 
 she noted with delight the exquisite beauty 
 of the verdant lawns and radiant flower 
 beds on either side the well-kept driveway 
 leading up to such a house as surpassed 
 her fondest dream of imposing complete 
 ness. The striped yellow awnings over 
 all the windows on the front, shading 
 flower boxes that overflowed with bloom j 
 the verandas yielding glimpses of chairs 
 and couches and tall palms ; and, above 
 all, the flowers and plants massed in 
 every angle where they could be placed
 
 in exterior decoration, seemed to Felicia 
 incredibly enchanting. As she sprang out 
 of the trap and looked around her, catch 
 ing a distant vista of blue sea at the end 
 of a reach of velvet sward, she was dazed 
 with excitement. She forgot that she had 
 been left standing there alone; and her 
 first fall from the clouds was caused by 
 the too easy manner and language of a 
 lady's maid who came to escort her to 
 her room. 
 
 Felicia had nothing to complain of in 
 externals, certainly. The room that was 
 assigned to her, all white-and-rose and 
 green-stained furniture with a window look 
 ing upon the sea, was delightfully cool and 
 tempting. Tea was served to her there ; 
 her little trunk was brought in and un 
 strapped ; and upon the table she found a 
 book or two, should she wish to pass her 
 time otherwise than by looking out of the 
 flower-framed shaded window. But, by 
 and by, a sense of loneliness set in ; and, 
 to banish it, she stole out for a walk about 
 the grounds. 
 
 Gazing from a shaded bench upon the 
 cliff over the sea, an infinite peace fell upon
 
 her spirit. How long she had sat there she Thirteen 
 
 did not know, until she became conscious at Table 
 
 that a young man in summer flannels had 
 
 come along the path leading to her eyrie, 
 
 and was searching for something he had 
 
 lost. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said, taking off 
 his hat; "I did not know any one had 
 succeeded me in my favorite haunt." 
 
 " You are looking for this ? " she said, 
 holding out a little compass of gold and 
 crystal she had picked up, then forgotten. 
 
 " Yes, thank you. It represents the 
 economies of my small sister, who sent it 
 to me for a birthday gift to-day," he said, 
 taking the trifle from her finger tips. " I 
 suppose you have just come, and have not 
 yet seen our hostess." 
 
 Cheered by his cordial tone, Felicia 
 answered as girls of her race and bringing- 
 up are wont to do ; easily, fearlessly, smiles 
 playing around her rosy lips and in her 
 friendly eyes ; and, at once, they were 
 launched upon a conversation that proved, 
 apparently, as satisfactory to Duncan 
 Moore as it certainly was to our poor little 
 confiding Felicia, tongue-tied for so many
 
 Thirteen hours and aching to communicate her sen- 
 nt Table sations to somebody. 
 
 She at once discovered that Mr. Moore 
 was, like herself, an inmate of the house ; 
 was spending a fortnight with the Cald- 
 wells, and was already almost " done to 
 death" with the insistence of Newport 
 hospitality. He, of course, took this art 
 less and refreshing little person, whose good 
 looks charmed his eye, to be a guest upon 
 his own plane. Even if Felicia had sus 
 pected his mistake, it would not have 
 occurred to her to do more than laugh at 
 it. " Down South," the young lady engaged 
 to be governess or companion or secretary 
 is in all things a member of the family ; 
 and when, as usual, she is well born and 
 well bred, the fact of poverty is the merest 
 bagatelle, so far as social consideration is 
 concerned. How could it enter into 
 Felicia's head that she was henceforth to 
 be taboo to the familiar associates of her 
 employer ? 
 
 Luckily, upon this occasion, she was 
 spared finding it out. The maidenly re 
 serve that in her underlaid a manner al 
 most coquettish in its directness, prompted
 
 her to withdraw from the interview. As Thirteen 
 she arose, and Moore offered to walk to at Table 
 the house with her, with the prettiest gest 
 ure of a small white hand she motioned 
 him to remain 
 
 " But why ? " he said, " or, at least, 
 when shall I talk with you again ? " 
 
 " When you shall have been properly 
 introduced," she replied, vanishing from 
 his sight. 
 
 Moore sat for a while upon the forsaken 
 bench, till shadows lengthening upon the 
 lawn, and the purple light of evening on 
 the sea, sent him within doors to dress for 
 dinner. When he came down into the 
 library where the house-party met before 
 dinner was announced, he looked eagerly 
 about him, but in the various groups saw 
 no sign of the fairy of the cliff. As luck 
 would have it, his seat at table that night 
 was far away from Mrs. Caldwell's and, 
 until just after the men came in from the 
 smoke-room, he had no opportunity to 
 make inquiries of his hostess. 
 
 " The young lady who arrived this after 
 noon ? " repeated Mrs. Caldwell in bewil 
 derment. " You are dreaming. Nobody
 
 Thirteen new is here. You know they say I am 
 at Table faithful to the same old gang ; and you are 
 all present, I believe." 
 
 Moore shrank a little from her, as he 
 went on in his dogged way. 
 
 "Miss Charlton, I mean. The young 
 lady from Virginia, who came while you 
 were driving." 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell threw back her dark, 
 well-coifed head, with a peal of laughter. 
 
 " I see what you mean now. It's my 
 new secretary who's come to replace that 
 dreadful pushing creature I told you of; 
 and, if you believe me, I got in so late to 
 dress, I have not seen her yet. How could 
 you make such a mistake ? " 
 
 What mistake ? " 
 
 " To er suppose that she was one of 
 my guests ? " 
 
 Moore, angered by her supercilious 
 drawl, felt his color rise. Then restrain 
 ing himself, he turned on his heel and left 
 her, inwardly resolving not to spend an 
 other day under the roof of this preten 
 tious worldling. 
 
 But when the next day came, he did 
 not go away. 
 
 [/**]
 
 Poor Felicia ! It was all such a sad Thirteen 
 awakening. Twenty-four hours spent in at Table 
 her new capacity were quite sufficient to 
 show her that business, not friendship, was 
 the platform on which she stood. Mrs. 
 Caldwell, when, on the morning follow 
 ing her arrival, she summoned her latest 
 employee into the dainty boudoir where 
 Felicia's duties were to be performed, had 
 received her with the most perfunctory of 
 handshakes, and without a smile. The 
 girl, unaccustomed to this omission of 
 social courtesies, fancied herself an of 
 fender, and for a moment stood sick at 
 heart with wondering what she had done. 
 In a short time, however, Mrs. Caldwell 
 made it perfectly clear that Miss Charlton 
 had in no wise transgressed, and was even 
 welcome in the stress of her employer's 
 arrears of correspondence. Leaning back 
 in a deep wicker chair with fantastic frilled 
 cushions of China silk, beside a table filled 
 with specimen vases of emerald glass, each 
 containing a perfect rose, the great lady 
 dictated a dozen little notes of courtesy, 
 conventionality, or charity, which Felicia's 
 fleet pen transcribed upon sheets from a 
 
 [**?]
 
 Thirteen silver-mounted paper-case upon a table 
 at Table littered with every contrivance for elegant 
 dalliance with letters. This done, and 
 evidently done to Mrs. CaldwelFs satis 
 faction, Felicia received instructions to 
 fill up a series of dinner-invitations, with 
 names and dates, for a banquet to be given 
 three weeks off; and to address envelopes 
 from a list furnished her, for a musicale for 
 which a great artist had been engaged to 
 come up from New York. 
 
 " This will give you enough for to-day," 
 said Mrs. Caldwell, rising to go. "You 
 will consider this room your own to sit in 
 at all hours, but your meals will be taken 
 in what we call the school-room, which is 
 more convenient for the servants to carry 
 the trays into. I er think you prob 
 ably dined there last night. It is a nice 
 little room, and I hope you will take care 
 that they give you everything nicely. The 
 housekeeper has the strictest orders about 
 my secretary's comfort, and you must 
 immediately report to her if anything is 
 omitted. At any time when you want to 
 drive out, one of the grooms can take you 
 in the basket phaeton; and, as you see,
 
 there are books here and a piano, if you Thirteen 
 play. I am happy to say that I think at Table 
 you will suit me exactly; and I am glad 
 Maud Branham spoke of you. Your 
 salary will be paid monthly, and here 
 (handing her a cheque) is the first month 
 in advance, as you may have some pur 
 chases to make." 
 
 This was a kindly thought, and to it 
 Felicia's spirit responded ; but, looking 
 into Mrs. CaldwelPs ever-unsmiling face, 
 she dared not speak. The lady rustled 
 from the room, and Felicia, left alone in 
 the apartment that was so far beyond her 
 dreams of luxury, dropped her, little head 
 down upon the blotter before her, and 
 burst into tears. 
 
 " She does not mean to be unkind," 
 Felicia mused, after a week of her new 
 life had passed. " I think, in her heart, 
 she fancies she is a model patroness. But 
 oh ! the way I am made to feel my dis 
 tance ! Never a laugh or a jest for me ; 
 yet as soon as she rejoins any of her 
 guests, she is the gayest of the gay. She 
 must know Maud told her I am a
 
 Thirteen lady born, and entitled to rank with the 
 at Table best. I wonder if it ever occurred to her 
 what life is without anybody to talk to, or 
 to confide in. I suppose a really superior 
 character would find solace in this beauti 
 ful room and the walks and drives and, 
 above all, in books. But I never said I 
 am a superior character. I want people, 
 people, people. Somebody to sympathize 
 with me; somebody to hear my chatter. 
 How many things I've noticed here in 
 Newport, that it would be such fun to 
 talk over. I'll declare I almost hate this 
 lovely old-blue wall-paper, and the white 
 enamelled furniture, and the blue china 
 ornaments, and that heavenly bit of blue 
 glimmering sea over the flower-box in the 
 window. I know, now, how a canary 
 must feel in his cage. I want to get 
 out. I want to sing, to spread my wings 
 outside." 
 
 As Felicia spoke, the dimples came back 
 into her cheeks ; her eyes shone blue as 
 the sea; she sprang from her seat, and, 
 pushing away the chairs from a space on 
 the mirror-like parquetted floor, began to 
 tread the measure of a solitary minuet. 
 
 [1**]
 
 After Mrs. Caldwell had left her for the Thirteen 
 morning, she was sure of several uninter- at Table 
 rupted hours ; and now she must relieve 
 her restlessness or perish, the little maiden 
 thought. So, humming the minuet from 
 " Don Giovanni," she accompanied it by 
 footsteps light as thistle down. Nearing 
 the door into the hall, she did not per 
 ceive it was ajar, until a tap came, and 
 at the aperture was revealed to her startled 
 view a gentleman. 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Felicia, instantly 
 transformed into a statue of confusion. 
 
 " I don't know what you think of me 
 bolting in like this," said Mr. Duncan 
 Moore, penitentially. " But Mrs. Cald 
 well is responsible. She is just about 
 starting for her round of visits, and told 
 me to run up and get her address book 
 that is, she told her footman Miss Charl- 
 ton would give it to him, and as he did 
 not hear her, I came. I hope you won't 
 mind. I've been wanting awfully to see 
 you, ever since that day, and to ask you 
 to take a walk with me ; but, somehow, 
 I couldn't get a chance. Why do they 
 keep you mewed up like this ? It is
 
 Thirteen shameful to treat you as if you were fifty 
 at Table and a frump." 
 
 " Here is the book," said Felicia, putting 
 into his hands a silver-clasped affair of liz 
 ard skin. " You need not apologize, I am 
 not angry. I am only too thankful to 
 speak to somebody who is not a servant." 
 
 44 Thanks for small favors," he replied 
 rather nettled. 
 
 " But I am very much ashamed that you 
 saw me prancing about like a lunatic," 
 she went on ; " I was only taking a little 
 exercise, and now, please go, for Mrs. 
 Caldwell does not like to be kept wait- 
 ing." 
 
 " Will you fix an hour to walk with 
 me ? " he pursued eagerly. 
 
 " No, I can't j so don't mention it 
 again." 
 
 "Will you talk to me somewhere 
 anywhere ? " 
 
 " How can I ? " asked Felicia, ready to 
 cry, because in her heart she should have 
 liked nothing better than the companion 
 ship of this hearty, bright-faced young 
 fellow. 
 
 " Then I shall just go out of this house
 
 to-morrow," he said, like a spoiled child. Thirteen 
 " As if I hadn't stayed on here a week, at Table 
 for nothing but to get another peep at 
 you." 
 
 " Don't, please," said Felicia, now ear 
 nestly ; and with an impatient gesture he 
 departed. 
 
 That evening one of Mrs. Caldwell's 
 periodical dinners, for which the invita 
 tions had long been sent out and accepted, 
 was to take place. Felicia, who was by 
 now used to such things at secondhand, 
 when sent down to give the butler the 
 dinner cards and the chart of the seats, 
 had lingered, looking on at the glittering 
 table with its burden of silver and wax- 
 lights, and banks of maidenhair and roses. 
 She was no longer so much impressed with 
 mere externals as at first. Grandeur, 
 viewed from afar, had begun to pall on 
 her. But she had quaint, wistful imagin 
 ings of what it would be to be led in to 
 table by such a man as Duncan Moore, 
 for example, and sit there as a part of it. 
 In this crisis of her rash fancies, Hortense, 
 Mrs. Caldwell's maid, came in search of 
 her.
 
 " Hurry, mademoiselle," said Hortense, 
 with a touch of authority. " Madame must 
 see you immediately, dans sa chambre." 
 
 Madame, in her teagown, sat before her 
 mirror, the picture of perplexity, an open 
 note in her hand. 
 
 " Can you imagine anything more 
 vexatious ? " she exclaimed pathetically. 
 " Miss Clayton has a headache, and can 
 not come. That girl is spoiled beyond all 
 endurance by being set up as the season's 
 beauty ; and I don't believe in her head 
 ache in the least. I have racked my brain 
 to think of some one to replace her, and 
 failed. I should not mind, but Mrs. 
 Mammon, who thinks it such a tremen 
 dous condescension if she comes to you 
 at all, will not dine thirteen on any ac 
 count. She would not hesitate to call for 
 her carriage and go home, if she found 
 out we were thirteen. There's no help 
 for it, Miss Charlton, you must come 
 down and fill the vacant place. Dress 
 is, I suppose, your difficulty, but Hortense 
 is invaluable in suggestion for such an 
 emergency. In all my things she can 
 surely find something you can wear." 
 
 [/po]
 
 Felicia wanted to rebel against the whole Thirteen 
 of the programme ; but against the latter at Table 
 part of it, she did rebel. 
 
 " I have a pale-blue crepon that is very 
 nice," she said quietly. " It has a low 
 bodice trimmed with a fall of just such old 
 Malines lace as you have on your pearl 
 color, but finer. It was my mother's 
 lace," she added, seeing Hortense stare. 
 "If I may wear that, Mrs. Caldwell, to 
 oblige you I will come down." 
 
 "Certainly, certainly," cried the relieved 
 lady, breathing freer. "I er suppose 
 you won't wear ornaments, Miss Charl- 
 ton." 
 
 "Don't be afraid of that," exclaimed 
 the girl lightly, and then ran off to her 
 room. 
 
 Resentful of her enforced position, she 
 glided down stairs just as the guests were 
 falling into line to go into the dining- 
 room. From the shadow under the stair 
 way, she was intercepted and captured by 
 Duncan Moore. 
 
 " I am actually, and without solicita 
 tion, to take you in to dinner," he said, 
 
 1*9*]
 
 Thirteen offering her his hand. I have been look- 
 at Table ing for you ever since Mrs. Caldwell gave 
 me notice of my good luck." 
 
 He did not tell her the notice was 
 accompanied by profuse apologies at im 
 posing this service upon a " very good 
 friend." In his heart, he rejoiced at 
 escaping that conceited Irene Clayton 
 who could think and speak of nothing 
 but her own successes in the social world 
 of Newport. And, as the dinner pro 
 gressed, he observed, with considerable 
 satisfaction, that many approving glances 
 were cast by the other men present upon 
 his charming little partner. For Felicia, 
 forgetting her woes, arose to the occasion 
 royally. Her color deepened ; her eyes 
 grew starry; her animation was irresistible 
 to look upon and to share in. The man 
 on her other side, a maker of opinion in 
 Newport, even turned his back upon the 
 conversation of Mrs. Mammon to enjoy 
 this delightfully fresh and sparkling little 
 new girl whom Mrs. Caldwell had been so 
 clever as to discover. 
 
 From exultant satisfaction, Mr. Duncan 
 Moore retired more than once into the
 
 sulks, when he found her attention as Thirteen 
 freely bestowed upon her other neighbor at Table 
 as upon himself; then, each time that 
 Felicia returned to him, he was renewed 
 in hope. 
 
 It does not require as much time for 
 Cupid, sly wight, to wing a shaft into a 
 young man's bosom that will rankle there 
 for all time, as for me to write this sentence. 
 
 Already Duncan Moore, whose desira 
 bleness as a parti did not in the least affect 
 Felicia, vowed to himself that if he could 
 not win this young woman to be his, he 
 would not look at any other. It may be 
 added that it was in consequence of a fall 
 ing out with him, whom Miss Clayton had 
 believed to be her own possession, that the 
 young lady had failed to be present at the 
 dinner which afforded him his chance at 
 her rival. 
 
 " How very, very good of you," mur 
 mured Mrs. Caldwell to Mr. Moore, when 
 the men came out from dinner. 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Mammon ; " and as 
 I understand it was all for my sake, I 
 appreciate it the more."
 
 "Where is that charming Miss Charl- 
 ton ? " asked Mr. Trent, who had sat 
 upon Felicia's right at table. " How one 
 does enjoy those little Southern thorough 
 breds, when they are both pretty and 
 merry, as she is ! You are a clever 
 woman, Mrs. Caldwell, to get such at 
 tractions for your feast." 
 
 Moore, who had responded to neither 
 lady's speech, stood glaring into the cor 
 ners of the great dusky drawing-room 
 with its pink shaded lamps, as if in search 
 of her. 
 
 " I think it likely my secretary has gone 
 to her own room," said Mrs. Caldwell to 
 Mr. Trent. " I was just confessing to 
 Mrs. Mammon that I had her in to play 
 the quatorzieme on a pinch." 
 
 Moore who saw what had- happened, 
 that poor little Felicia, like many an 
 other of her sex before her, left alone 
 among the women, had been driven from 
 the field felt a sudden desire to cham 
 pion the oppressed before the world, to 
 which he did not, at first, exactly see 
 his way to give expression, without trans 
 gressing propriety.
 
 "You are really very civil," said his Thirteen 
 hostess with a short laugh. " Why should at Table 
 you look like a thunder-cloud because Miss 
 Charlton has shown the good sense to go 
 back to her proper place ? One would 
 think that, with you, instead of being 
 quatorzieme, this young person is premiere" 
 and she laughed again, meaningly. 
 
 This gave Moore his opportunity. " She 
 is not, but shall be, if you are going to be 
 kind enough to give me your help to win 
 her," he said, where she alone could hear 
 him. Mrs. Caldwell, who had begun to 
 laugh as if this were a capital joke, was 
 silenced by the earnest expression of the 
 young man's eyes. And then, by one of 
 those caprices of nature, who delights in 
 the development of unexpected traits, the 
 woman's heart inside of her crust of world- 
 liness was touched. 
 
 " Good gracious, I believe you mean 
 it ! " she exclaimed, wondering. 
 
 " I do mean it," he answered seriously. 
 
 " To tell the truth, I have found noth 
 ing but good in her," went on the lady; 
 " and now, I think she is lucky as well as 
 good."
 
 Thirteen Thus Felicia's episode as a bread-winner 
 at Table in the circles of high society was shortened 
 
 in the fashion varied, but substantially the 
 
 same, from age to age.
 
 At a Winter House-Party
 
 At a Winter House-Party 
 
 IT was pleasant tidings to all concerned, At a 
 that a woman of fashion and conse- Winter 
 quence, yclept by her friends Mrs. " Algy " House- 
 Bliss, had taken it into her good-natured Party 
 head to open a big house she owned in the 
 hill country some hours out of town, warm 
 it to summer heat, stock it with cates and 
 comforts, servants and recent magazines, 
 and ask twenty people to come there for a 
 mid-winter house-party. 
 
 The season of gayeties in town had just 
 reached the happy point when the healthy 
 boys and girls of this athletic generation, 
 who are its chief supporters, felt them 
 selves overdone with artificial pleasures. 
 To most of them, the real entertainment 
 of life consists not of dancing, that /*<?<& 
 resource of outworn society, but of golf, 
 bicycling, riding, tobogganing, and the like, 
 so that the prospect of a " Friday-to-Mon- 
 day" out-of-doors was almost a requital
 
 At a for what they had undergone in the way of 
 Winter dinners, the opera, and balls. As for the 
 House- semi-occasional chaperon included in Mrs. 
 Party Algy's invitations, she could look forward 
 to an oasis of good food and good company; 
 with leave to go to bed early in the sooth 
 ing silence of a wide amphitheatre of hills, 
 and to wake up late with no sound of 
 vehicles rattling upon a stony street to 
 distress her nerves. 
 
 Mrs. Algy's hospitality was therefore 
 rewarded by unanimous acceptance and 
 prompt appearance at the tryst. Twenty- 
 four hours of fun and frolic with Dame Nat 
 ure in winter livery, had put everybody in 
 the very best of spirits. They had come 
 down for a skating contest upon a pretty 
 sheet of crystal girdled with tall woods and 
 cheered by two mighty bonfires on the 
 shore, that sent billowing smoke-wreaths 
 high toward the heavens already streaked 
 with the crimson of the sunset. 
 
 The point of meeting and departure for 
 the skaters was a rustic tea-house, near the 
 edge of the lake, fitted inside with a pictu 
 resque jumble of Eastern draperies and 
 screens and studio " effects " in general. 
 [200]
 
 In a massive fireplace constructed of At a 
 rocks, to which still clung the moss and Winter 
 lichens of the woods, a fire of logs of hick- House- 
 ory was burning. Before it was spread a Party 
 Turkish rug, and on this little island of 
 gay color appeared a tea-table, presided 
 over by Mrs. Algy herself, well wrapped 
 in becoming furs. Upon the good lady's 
 handsome face was seen no mark of care 
 surpassing her anxiety that everybody 
 should have the right number of lumps of 
 sugar in her tea. A pair of admirable 
 footmen, moving about with cups, seemed 
 to have been expressly provided by Heaven 
 to forestall Mrs. Algy's needs. 
 
 Standing by her hostess, one slender foot 
 on the low, wrought-iron fender, was a 
 tall, distinguished-looking girl, with rather 
 weary large blue eyes. One could see at 
 a glance that she had been "out" for 
 several seasons, and had not yet done with 
 theories. 
 
 In a wicker-chair drawn up to get the 
 best part of the blaze sat a lady, also un 
 married, no longer young, not pretty, but 
 possessed of a certain decorative quality in 
 attire. Miss Brenton was desirable to
 
 hostesses, in that she was passed along 
 their line, burdened with the most recent 
 budget of infinite nothings concerning the 
 only people really worth hearing about 
 the members of their own set. At the 
 present moment, while apparently stirring 
 her tea, she was actually engaged in watch 
 ing the effect upon her former schoolmate, 
 Gwendolyn Talcott, of a speech she had 
 thought well enough of to reiterate. 
 
 u Yes, I had it if not exactly in so 
 many words from the girl's own mother 
 to-day. Pray how does it strike you, Gwen 
 dolyn ? " 
 
 " How does any announcement of a new 
 engagement strike any one ? A little 
 wonder, a little babble, and the thing glides 
 down the stream," said Miss Talcott, tak 
 ing her foot from the fender, and beginning 
 to pull on her jacket to go out. 
 
 " Let me help you with your sleeves, 
 dear," exclaimed Miss Brenton, jumping 
 up to face Gwendolyn, as she effusively 
 performed the proffered service. 
 
 " Isn't she rather young for him ? " 
 asked Mrs. Algy, who was never too much 
 surprised by anything.
 
 "Young?" exclaimed Miss Brenton, At a 
 her eyes fixed upon Gwendolyn's face, Winter 
 while hovering officiously about her. House- 
 11 Bless me, dear Mrs. Bliss, do you forget Party 
 that for a man, time stands still between 
 thirty and forty and Brook isn't more 
 than thirty-two ! It's a dreadfully unfair 
 distribution of things; for here, Gwen 
 dolyn and I, at twenty-six, are already c old 
 girls.' All the younger set call us ' Miss,' 
 and get up and offer us seats when we 
 come into the room. Besides, a man like 
 Brook, who has seen everything, needs, 
 when he marries, to be refreshed, amused, 
 looked up to as an oracle. He doesn't 
 want a mature being with a mission, behind 
 his coffee-urn, but a little pink and white 
 Dresden shepherdess, like Gracie. Lucky 
 Brook ! He can be choosing still, while 
 Gwen and I must wait to be picked up and 
 thank the picker eh ! Gwendolyn ? " 
 
 Miss Talcott made no reply, but Mrs. 
 Algy supplied the deficiency. She was 
 conscious of a faint discomfort that even 
 the admirable footmen could not remove. 
 
 " Then that accounts for it. My hus 
 band wired me this morning, that Brook
 
 would probably come up with him this 
 afternoon, to stay over Sunday. And here 
 I was wondering why he was so sociable 
 all at once, when he has never before 
 accepted one of my invitations. I think 
 Mrs. Wotherspoon might have given a 
 hint of this first to me, instead of to you, 
 Josephine. She said it was neuralgia that 
 kept her at the house this afternoon." 
 
 " Don't be severe on her, dear," said 
 Josephine Brenton, nimbly. " Think 
 what a rise for the Wotherspoons to inter 
 marry with the Brooks." 
 
 41 Gracie is my Clara's age," pursued the 
 matron, " and I should never have thought 
 of Clara and Mr. Brook together. The 
 child is pretty, of course, for any one who 
 admires that excessively fair hair and pink 
 cheeks " (the Misses Bliss were as brown 
 as hot-cross buns). " But I've often felt 
 like telling poor Mrs. Wotherspoon that 
 her daughter was overdressed, especially 
 when I saw her come out, just now, in 
 white cloth lined with rose-color and 
 bordered with chinchilla fur. So theatri 
 cal, I think, don't you ? " 
 
 " I heard Brook himself say last sum- 
 
 [204-]
 
 mer at Newport that the girl looked like At a 
 a fashion plate on rollers," remarked Winter 
 Josephine. " But perhaps she will get House- 
 over that second-rate taste when she mar- Party 
 ries Brook. At any rate, Mrs. Brook can 
 dress as she pleases." 
 
 "Should you think a white cloth skat 
 ing costume would be becoming to Clara ? " 
 asked Mrs. Bliss, a little anxiously. 
 
 " Clara's brown and crimson is so per 
 fect," answered Miss Brenton, loyally, 
 while helping herself to another pate sand 
 wich ; and Mrs. Bliss allowed herself to 
 be convinced. 
 
 As the door on the lake side of the 
 house opened, at this moment, to let in, 
 on a burst of frosty air as stirring as the 
 blare of a trumpet, a group of merry chat 
 tering young people, conspicuous among 
 whom was the white-vestured maiden 
 under recent discussion, Gwendolyn 
 Talcott, her fur collar pulled up well 
 around her cheeks, a little black veil 
 drawn down over her eyes, started to 
 pass out along the way by which they 
 came. 
 
 " Oh ! I wanted so much to talk to 
 [205]
 
 you about being Secretary to our new 
 Society for Inducing Citizens not to Strew 
 Paper in the Streets," interposed her 
 hostess, with a sort of parenthetical 
 breathlessness that was common to her. 
 
 " Another time," said Gwendolyn. She 
 longed to be out of the atmosphere in 
 which she was beginning to believe the 
 best part of her had been wrecked. Pass 
 ing through the incoming crowd, she found 
 a boy to put on her skates, and was 
 soon along with her thoughts, speeding 
 swiftly over the farthest confines of the 
 lake. 
 
 At eighteen, she had "come out," as 
 lovely and blooming and impetuous a 
 young creature as one would wish to see. 
 Her father, well born, indulgent, and of 
 ample means, had placed her in uncon 
 trolled possession of the reins of his estab 
 lishment. All of his friends, and a new 
 crop of her own, had speedily arisen to do 
 her homage. 
 
 Had she been of a less masterful dis 
 position, no doubt Miss Talcott would 
 have married early, and at the present 
 O<5]
 
 moment would have been filling a place in At a 
 the ranks of young matrons elate with Winter 
 hackneyed joys. But, at first, she was Home- 
 intoxicated by her opportunity for power. Party 
 Her scope to rule, to adjust, to dictate 
 other people's affairs had proved too 
 tempting. Gwendolyn had verily believed 
 that her fine intuitions were entrusted to 
 her for the use of humanity at large. No 
 sacrifice of self, no exertion, was too great 
 so long as she could be informing her fel 
 low-beings of what was best for them. 
 By these efforts, she dreamed of moulding 
 her own life into some new Titanic form, 
 at which women condemned to mediocrity 
 might gaze, on its pedestal in the chilly 
 corridors of the temple of Fame. 
 
 To such an exalted frame of mind, 
 suitors, naturally, were a jarring interrup 
 tion. Those who presented themselves 
 were refused by her with the gentle sever 
 ity of one misunderstood. She told her 
 father, once, with heavenly magnanimity, 
 that she was not angry with a man who 
 had asked her to be his wife, but disap 
 pointed, because she had thought him pos 
 sessed of a higher intelligence than the
 
 rest. This lover was Louis Brook, and 
 three years later, he had repeated his offer, 
 with the same success. 
 
 In the interval Gwendolyn's boundless 
 energy of character and her splendid 
 health, had sent her upon a steeple-chase 
 after charity and philanthropy, that resulted, 
 on the whole, in wasting a great deal of 
 her time, and in confirming in wrong 
 doing many dependents upon society. She 
 had many disappointments, and of disillu 
 sions not a few. 
 
 After that, Miss Talcott's intellect as 
 sumed sovereign control of her. Study, 
 research, discussions of all questions of 
 the day that could with convenience be 
 taken up by one of her age and sex, and 
 of some that had better have been left 
 untouched, absorbed her waking hours. 
 In crowded gatherings for social inter 
 change, she pleased herself by fancying 
 her own a lonely spirit, and, as a conse 
 quence, was often left alone in body. 
 Every-day people soon tire of superiority, 
 and forsake it as cheerfully as congrega 
 tions do the clergyman after he has shut 
 up his sermon case for another week. 
 
 [**]
 
 Still, Miss Talcott was not without her At a 
 vogue, and as a figure-head of originality Winter 
 was put forward by her friends whenever House- 
 a demand for that variety of womankind Party 
 was made. People looked to her to arise 
 if there were a visiting author, or foreign 
 bel esprit, before whom it was deemed 
 necessary to illustrate American culture 
 spelt with a capital C. 
 
 In the case of a gathering of exclusive 
 fashion like the one now convened by 
 Mrs. Algy Bliss, it was also natural to 
 expect to see Miss Talcott present, even 
 though hers was fast becoming in gay 
 society a rather monumental pose. 
 
 The two people whom, during her 
 years of experiment, Gwendolyn had most 
 nearly admitted to her intimacy, were her 
 father and Louis Brook. The first, be 
 cause he was always cheerful, long-suffer 
 ing, and brave enough to kiss her in the 
 middle of one of her dissertations, and to 
 go off down town. The second, since 
 nothing that had passed between them 
 had robbed her of his friendship, or of his 
 evident preference for her society. For 
 six long years, in season and out, Brook 
 [209]
 
 had been in the habit of visiting her, walk 
 ing with her, dropping in to dinner on 
 Sunday evenings, writing her nice notes, 
 and sending her new books and flowers. 
 Except during the brief periods when he 
 had lost his head and proposed, he had 
 always preserved toward her the attitude 
 of quiet receptivity of her ideal man. 
 Two or three weeks before the present 
 date, he had gone across the continent on 
 a matter of business ; and, until Mrs. Bliss 
 had announced the fact, Gwendolyn did 
 not even know of his return eastward. As 
 to his sentimental alliance with the prettiest 
 debutante of the year, she had not dreamed 
 of the like of that ! A sensation so much 
 akin to an electric shock as the hint of it 
 had not fallen to her experience and yet 
 she was not afraid ! 
 
 She recollected, now, that the pretty 
 child had made timid overtures to her since 
 they had been first thrown together here 
 yesterday. She had several times caught 
 Gracie's eyes fixed upon her face with a 
 reverential expression, to which, however, 
 Gwendolyn was rather too accustomed 
 from young admirers to have made espe-
 
 cial note of it, in this case. But, flying, At a 
 still, over the glassy plain, as the evening Winter 
 shadows gathered upon the valley, and in the House- 
 opal of the sky shone a crescent moon, she Party 
 felt a resentful rush of blood into her cheeks. 
 Brook's wife this callow intelligence, 
 this mere piece of prettiness ! And her 
 people his worse and worse! It was 
 inconceivable that he should allow him 
 self to be dragged out of his element and 
 landed upon that distinctly foreign shore. 
 Brook, a calm, clear-sighted, refined, in 
 tellectual man, who could not, any more 
 than herself, abide the veneered side of 
 society; who had always shrunk from 
 contact with the types of the Wotherspoon 
 variety; who was noted for his exclusion 
 of show people from his intimacy as 
 well expect him to put on cap-and-bells 
 and dance a fandango in the middle of a 
 cotillon. The story was, evidently, one 
 of Josephine's ingenuities of annoyance. 
 Who, as well as Gwendolyn, could know 
 the absurdity of it ; who as well under 
 stand that in reality Brook had been for 
 years entirely content with the role she 
 had apportioned to him ?
 
 From the incredulous mood, she passed 
 into one of retrospect. For the first time 
 in her life, perhaps, she thought more of 
 Brook than of herself. Their experiences 
 together, unrolled in memory, showed him 
 wise, patient, forbearing with her, because 
 his strength of character enabled him to 
 be so. There had never, in her acquaint 
 ance, been a man so noble, so truly fit to 
 share and guide an ambitious woman's life. 
 If he had a fault, it was an indolence of 
 manner that encouraged her own impetu 
 osity ; yet who would want to go through 
 life with a man exactly like oneself! . . . 
 Oh, no ! There was nobody like Brook ! 
 
 Tossing her head, Gwendolyn laughed 
 aloud. In her absorption she had not 
 noticed that the lake was now free of 
 skaters. One of the two men who were 
 about to rake out the bonfires came to 
 her, speaking civilly. 
 
 " I beg pardon, miss ; but there's been 
 some mistake, I think. The boy, that was 
 told to tell you when the last carriage was 
 ready to start, ran home to his supper, and 
 they've all gone and left you. If you'll step 
 inside the tea-house, of course Mrs. Bliss
 
 will be sending back for you presently. It At a 
 wouldn't be more than half an hour to Winter 
 wait, at the longest." House- 
 
 "Oh! it's no matter, I'll walk," she Party 
 answered, with more suavity than the 
 countryman had expected from this hand 
 some, haughty young lady. 
 
 "No doubt you'll meet the trap, miss," 
 he said, while unbuckling her skates. "If 
 you like, I'll go with you." 
 
 But Gwendolyn would not hear of this. 
 She revelled in the prospect of a solitary 
 tramp under the new moon and the spar 
 kling planets that gemmed the steely sky. 
 As she set oft" through the woods, her nos 
 trils were greeted by faint delicious scents 
 of forest spicery, and the dead leaves 
 underfoot, powdered with rime, gave forth 
 a sound as pleasant to her ear as the tinkle 
 of the streamlet that, in spots, escaped 
 from its glittering prison, and prattled of 
 Spring to come. 
 
 It was cold, as the night drew on apace, 
 but the air was dazzling clear. Was it 
 rapid exercise, or a new joy bounding in 
 her bosom, that exhilarated her so glo 
 riously ? Was the world really renewed
 
 in beauty, or had she just been born again 
 into it ? Her cares, her doubts, her fears, 
 had fallen away; she felt gay and light 
 some, and ready for any frolic enterprise. 
 Catching a silvery thread of swift-running 
 water from a spring on the hill above, was 
 a trough by the roadside ; she bent over to 
 taste of it, and could feel that her lips and 
 her cheeks were glowing, but not with 
 cold. 
 
 Through the dusk of the high-road, she 
 presently sighted approaching her the 
 bright tip of a cigar. Something told her 
 that Brook was coming ; and, for the first 
 time in their intercourse, she felt her heart 
 leap up within her at his approach. As 
 he materialized from the shadows and 
 greeted her in the old familiar quiet way, 
 she did not even pretend to be surprised ; 
 it was all so much in answer to her 
 thoughts. 
 
 " Of course, when I found out that you 
 were left behind," he said, " I asked to be 
 put out of the wagonette to walk back, on 
 the probability that you would prefer set 
 ting out on foot to waiting. You see, I 
 got to the tea-house just in time to return
 
 with the last party ; and as soon as it was At a 
 discovered you should have been with us, Winter 
 I quitted them. The carriage, however, House- 
 will no doubt be soon upon us." Party 
 
 And, in effect, the carriage lamps were 
 perceived, in a moment, gleaming on the 
 descent of a steep bit of hill, ahead. 
 
 44 How tiresome, when I had far rather 
 walk ! " she exclaimed, with almost the 
 wilful intonation of a child. 
 
 She had let her hand rest in his, and 
 Brook was struck by this unusual action, 
 and by a joyous thrill in her voice. It, 
 somehow, carried him back to the day of 
 her debut i when she had stood in a high 
 white frock before a screen of the bou 
 quets sent by her father's friends, and 
 curtsied to half New York. 
 
 44 There is really no good reason why 
 we should take the carriage," he said, 
 laughing. So the coachman (not sur 
 prised, for the retainers of Mrs. Bliss were 
 warranted never to be taken aback by the 
 vagaries of a house-party) was ordered to 
 turn around and go back without themj 
 and the horses started briskly homeward. 
 
 Thus the two pedestrians had to them-
 
 At a selves the silent, starlit world, the fields 
 Winter about them guarded by couchant hills, 
 House- here and there farm-house or cottage lights 
 Party trembling out upon the slopes. 
 
 For a time Gwendolyn, her hands 
 clasped in her muff, kept quietly in step 
 with her companion, in the road bordered 
 on either side by banks showing dim 
 chevaux de frlse of bare thorns and alder 
 bushes and dead mullein spears. She did 
 not want to spoil the hour by trite questions 
 about trains and time tables and telegrams. 
 
 On Brook, also, the spell of reticence 
 had descended. 
 
 " How beautiful this is ! " he said, at 
 length, in a voice that did not seem to her 
 quite natural. 
 
 " And we are to have it for a whole day 
 and evening yet, and part of another day 
 still," she answered, almost exultingly. 
 
 " I always told you you should have 
 lived in the country," he returned. " But 
 then, what would have become of your 
 mission to help your fellow-beings 
 though, I suppose, one fellow-being, if he 
 were all you could get hold of, would be 
 as big a jewel in your crown as a lot of
 
 them that came to you easily. Still, you At a 
 could never have borne monotony." Winter 
 
 " Oh ! don't remind me of my mis- House- 
 takes," she cried. " That is the way you Party 
 have often ended by condemning me seri 
 ously when you began to say something 
 quite light and airy." 
 
 " I have never intentionally condemned 
 you or judged you, as to that. You have 
 been the one person of my acquaintance 
 privileged to confuse my sense of " 
 
 " I hope you were not going to add, 
 right and wrong ? " she said, as he paused. 
 
 "Hardly that. But I think I might 
 have saved you from some of the annoy 
 ances I let you run upon, simply because 
 you went at them with such splendid dash 
 such belief in your own infallibility 
 a sort of an archangel's swoop through the 
 ether, it seemed to me." 
 
 " What a vain bruised mortal it gener 
 ally was that you ran to help after her 
 fall, and set to preening her borrowed 
 pinions ! Ah, well ! I have learned 
 wisdom. Those days are over, forever. 
 Hereafter, I am going to creep instead of 
 swooping."
 
 At a " This is not creeping, certainly. Your 
 
 Winter tread is so light and almost martial. It is 
 
 House- delightful to me to think of you as vigor- 
 
 Party ous and hopeful at a time in a young 
 
 woman's experience when so many of 
 
 them look pulled-down and disheartened 
 
 and uncertain." 
 
 Surprised by his tone, she turned quickly 
 toward him. 
 
 " This sounds like a valedictory. Or 
 are you making late amends for previous 
 hard judgment ? " 
 
 " No ; but I, who have borne with you 
 the strain of the fray, feel privileged to 
 congratulate you upon approaching vic 
 tory. I believe you are going to be 
 happier hereafter. Something tells me 
 you are to find your long-sought clue to 
 life; and, believe me, I even I can 
 rejoice in it." 
 
 " Even you ? Why, what do you 
 mean ? If it were not you, I should say 
 there is a tinge of bitterness in your voice. 
 That is what I don't look for from you 
 who have spoiled me perhaps ! " 
 
 " Perhaps though I don't know that 
 I would recall it, if I could."
 
 " At any rate, you have nothing with At a 
 which to reproach yourself; and it is I Winter 
 who have suffered all," she said, with an House- 
 attempt at lightness, half alarmed at the Party 
 unwonted gravity of his manner. 
 
 "Suffered," he burst forth, as if irresist 
 ibly. " Great heavens ! I believe you 
 don't know the meaning of the word ! 
 Suppose you had been condemned to serve 
 one purpose with all your might, for years, 
 until long waiting for reward had rusted 
 your heart's core. A hundred times, I 
 have said to myself, * She is a woman who 
 has cultivated herself to catch every echo 
 of human woe and solace it, and yet she 
 plays with mine.' And now you say, c It 
 is I who have suffered all.' " 
 
 Gwendolyn, although greatly perturbed, 
 did not answer. She was gathering up 
 her forces for the belated avowal she had 
 determined presently to yield him ; the 
 avowal so richly deserved, that would make 
 their past a blank, and flood their future 
 with delight. In the interval, it was 
 almost a luxury to hear herself thus de 
 nounced by him. 
 
 "Yes; a hundred times," he went on,
 
 " and oftener, I have left you, wounded to 
 the quick. If there had been another 
 Richmond in the field, I'd have dropped 
 out long ago; but I knew, I knew, that I 
 gave you the companionship no other man 
 could offer, so I stifled my passion and re 
 sumed my patient attitude. Your depend 
 ence on me was my only requital. It was 
 a poor part to play, I grant you; but for 
 your sake I played it ; and still you gave 
 no sign. That you did feel my love 
 and divine my hope, I could not for a 
 moment insult your intuition by doubting. 
 I even believe you liked to feel it, and to 
 know that, when you chose, at the lifting 
 of a finger, you could secure the pleasant 
 emotion an expressive response to it would 
 cause you." 
 
 " Oh ! But that is cruel," she ex 
 claimed, between quick breaths. 
 
 "Cruel, perhaps. If it is unjust, God 
 forgive me, for I have suffered much. 
 Consider, Gwendolyn, it is six years of a 
 man's life you have appropriated, and 
 given him nothing in return. There has 
 not been a hairy dirty crank from any 
 other country that brought a fad to our 
 
 [*>]
 
 shores, whose lot you would not have set At a 
 yourself to ameliorate in preference to Winter 
 mine. I shouldn't have felt this to be a House- 
 wrong^ mark you, had I not believed that, Party 
 deep down in the bottom of that veiled 
 heart of yours, there was all along an 
 intention to put me, some day, out of 
 my misery by making me your husband. 
 But even that illusion went at last, and 
 the result " 
 
 He stopped. She was trembling so 
 violently that he extended his arm to steady 
 her; then abruptly withdrew it, and laid, 
 instead, her hand within his arm. When 
 Gwendolyn felt she could control her 
 voice, her words came out with a passion 
 ate flow and emphasis that astonished 
 beyond measure the man who had thought 
 he knew her better than any one. 
 
 " I see it all, now. Oh ! Go on ; say 
 more ; say anything, if it is a relief to 
 you. I suppose mine was one of those 
 crimes the law doesn't reach ; but God is 
 my witness, I did not mean to go so far. 
 I think a girl can't always understand 
 what a man may feel for her, even if she 
 I was vain, presumptuous, overbearing,
 
 if you please, but I was innocent of real 
 harm Harm ? to you " 
 
 Could that indeed be Gwendolyn, so 
 arch, so sad, so proud, so humble, so 
 tender, so enchanting ? She would not 
 heed his movement as if to hold her back. 
 
 " It is true, all true, what you said, just 
 now. You saw right, you read my real 
 self. Since I've known you, there was 
 never really a moment " 
 
 "In pity, Gwendolyn," he exclaimed, 
 hoarsely interrupting her. 
 
 They had reached the crest of a hill 
 and, over on the slope beyond, saw the 
 great dark mass of the house facing them, 
 light shining from every window. As she 
 paused bewildered, he started away from 
 her, making a gesture in its direction. 
 Her arm, freed from his, dropped by her 
 side, and they walked, mechanical, speech 
 less, to the gateway of the lodge, where a 
 hanging lamp revealed their faces to each 
 other. 
 
 They exchanged one wretched glance ; 
 and in that moment something went out 
 of his life, and out of hers, that was to 
 come back no more.
 
 The Secret of San Juan
 
 The Secret of San Juan 
 
 Part I 
 
 A SCORE of years after our war The 
 between the States, Lloyd Sar- Secret of 
 gent, of Boston, a young man whose pas- San 
 sion for the remote and picturesque had Juan 
 led him to investigate in person many 
 of the combinations of fable and reality 
 presented by the old world, before set 
 tling down to the search for romantic 
 color in his own country, was cruising 
 in his little yacht, Campaspe, off the 
 shores of southern Georgia. The boat, 
 chartered from a western millionnaire who 
 had built it for the pleasure of his family 
 in southern waters, proved at the first 
 hint of rough seas to be a mere exasper 
 ating toy that must needs fly for safe 
 keeping into the nearest harbor ; but dur-
 
 The ing the long stretches of brilliantly clear 
 
 Secret of weather common to that region, when she 
 
 San would glide swiftly under a sky as blue 
 
 Juan as Italy's, in the shallows along shores 
 
 fringed with silvery palmettos, her deck 
 
 was a lotos-eater's paradise. 
 
 One evening, at sunset, following a 
 favorite caprice, Sargent directed his na 
 tive pilot to turn inward from the bay, 
 through a narrow passage that cleft a 
 wide verdurous plain of grass and reeds 
 and flowers. Soon the Campaspe was 
 apparently ashore. All before, behind, 
 around her, was a mass of waving, glis 
 tening green arched by the pearly radi 
 ance of the sky. So fantastically winding 
 was the inlet along which she nosed her 
 way, she seemed at moments to be run 
 ning headlong into a morass, out of an 
 island of aquatic vegetation. Far east 
 ward, Sargent espied the sails of ships, 
 like white birds winging their way over 
 the marsh; and his ear was not forsaken 
 by the swash of the surf upon the outer 
 beach. But, practically, he had Nature 
 for his own. 
 
 After a while, standing to survey the
 
 scene beside the man at the wheel, he The 
 caught, away over the green boundaries Secret of 
 of creation, a red lustre that could be San 
 nothing but the level rays of the sun Juan 
 striking a window pane. 
 
 "A house, with trees?" he said, in 
 surprise. " I don't remember to have 
 seen one at that point." 
 
 " Because we've never come in this 
 way before, sir," answered the pilot. 
 " It's built on a little neck o' land run- 
 nin' out of a bit of jungle over yonder. 
 Queer people live there, Mr. Sargent. 
 I've often thought of asking if you 
 wouldn't like to take a look at 'em." 
 
 " Who are your queer people, Adams ? " 
 asked the young man, who had before 
 encouraged his guide's loquacity in local 
 chronicles. " And, while you are telling 
 me, by all means let's run over and 
 have a look at them. If they have 
 fresh eggs and milk to sell, so much 
 the better for our commissariat." 
 
 " Aye, sir, and honey too, if you're 
 
 fond o' that article. Peter Parsons, the 
 
 head o' the family, is a famous bee hunter 
 
 in these parts. He's an old man now, 
 
 [227}
 
 The and has got three sons and three daughters 
 
 Secret of well on in life, that's livin' there with 
 San him. None of them got married, cos 
 
 Juan none o' that stock ever married out o' 
 their own connection, and their supply 
 o' wives and husbands has 'bout run 
 short, I reckon. Curious matter that, 
 sir. Sence time out o' mind, them folks 
 have been livin' there; and they all came 
 out o' two families that was brought over 
 from England, they say, by old Governor 
 Oglethorpe with the people he imported 
 to colonize the State o' Georgy with ; 
 settled here in the swamp, and inter 
 married, till now they've dwindled down 
 to three old cracker maids and three old 
 cracker bachelors, all o' the same parents. 
 Last year the old woman died, and they 
 put her away in the family burying-ground 
 somewheres in the swamp, nobody knows 
 where. Fact is, it's all guess-work about 
 the Parsonses concerns, anyway. Nobody 
 I ever knowed has crost their door-sill; 
 and only onst in a long time people get 
 a sight of the old man in his boat. They 
 grow corn, and beat it between two stones 
 for their meal ; and cotton, that they spin
 
 and weave into cloth to make their clothes The 
 out er. None of 'em can't read or write ; Secret of 
 and they do say the Parsonses never heard San 
 tell o' the war the time it lasted; an', Juan 
 seein' as I've got a bullet from the fight at 
 Ellerson's Mill, in Virginny, rollin' around 
 in me somewheres at this ere blessed 
 minute, and old Parsons is as hale and 
 sound as ever he was, I can't help wish 
 ing I'd been situated so as I didn't hear 
 of it, nuther." 
 
 Sargent, beguiled by the man's prattle, 
 did not realize the distance they had 
 traversed in following the doublings of 
 their watery way, till the Campaspe, saucy 
 and triumphant, slid out of the marsh into 
 the lakelet surrounding the cracker settle 
 ment. The banks of the little peninsula 
 upon which a few decaying cabins built 
 of logs were huddled together, beneath 
 gaunt pines, were so gnawed by the action 
 of the tides as to leave the roots of the 
 trees hanging bare over them. But there 
 was space reclaimed from the marsh at 
 one side for a garden, together with a 
 plot or two of grain ; and from the win 
 dow of a shanty, propped by piles over the
 
 The flood, a meek-faced old horse looked out 
 
 Secret of with wonder at the newcomers. Behind 
 
 San all, stretched the inky shadows of a wall 
 
 yuan of jungle. From the chimney of one of 
 
 the huts a faint waft of smoke signified 
 
 inhabitance. But of sound there was 
 
 none, except the flop of mud-turtles into 
 
 the coffee-colored waters, the far cry of a 
 
 loon, and the note of night-birds already 
 
 beginning their communings in the deep 
 
 tangle of the woods. 
 
 " Impossible to imagine a gloomier spot 
 for human habitation," said Sargent, quite 
 under the spell of the scene, and the skip 
 per's tale of these melancholy folk. 
 
 " It ain't, so to speak, cheerful, sir," was 
 the answer. " Might's well be a dead 
 house, for all the notice they take of us. 
 Seein' you're interested in these parts, Mr. 
 Sargent, supposin' we take a short cut 
 through the woods, and come out by San 
 Juan Island, where you can see a real old 
 style quality mansion. Could tell you 
 stories about that house, sir, would make 
 your flesh creep." 
 
 " Agreed," said Sargent, smiling. " Just 
 as soon as we see whether we can make
 
 an impression upon this cracker fortress, The 
 and coax from them some of their mer- Secret of 
 chandise, I'm with you." San 
 
 All in vain the pretty Campaspe blew Juan 
 her whistle before the unresponsive huts. 
 No face appeared at a window, no form 
 at a door; and, at last, disgusted with the 
 incivility of the boors within, Sargent gave 
 orders to pursue their course. 
 
 They -now turned sharp into a little 
 creek threading their ever sinuous way 
 through a cypress wood dense with growths, 
 gnarled, misshapen, serpent-like. The 
 trees, springing from mossy hummocks, 
 were wrapped and strangled in vines and 
 pendent moss. In the accumulation of 
 dead leaves and black ooze on either side 
 of the stream, the deadly moccasin, with 
 frogs, turtles, and other subaqueous small 
 fry, kept up a repulsive animation. From 
 the elevation of the yacht's bridge, Sargent, 
 well satisfied to maintain this distance 
 from their base of operations, descried 
 through an opening between the trees, at 
 still a considerable way ahead, an object 
 that he took to be a boat. Then a twist 
 in the channel caused him to lose sight of
 
 The it before he could be certain it was not a 
 
 Secret of floating log. 
 
 San "It would be a brave voyager who 
 
 Juan would venture in here alone, at this hour," 
 he said to Adams. 
 
 "If it's anybody, it's old man Parsons 
 himself, I reckon," was the reply. " But 
 there ain't many likely to be round here. 
 The nighest family lives at San Juan, 
 where we are goin' to." 
 
 "You were about to tell me more of 
 them," said Sargent, good-naturedly. 
 
 " It's a grand family, the Trevelyans, 
 sir, regular tip-toppers ; but they've pretty 
 much run out now. The island's be 
 longed to them since the State was set 
 tled, and 'cept for the four years when 
 the master was away righting for the Con 
 federacy, there's some on 'em always 
 lived there. But it's been an unlucky 
 house, sir. Accidents, and duels, and 
 sudden deaths, and misfortins o' one kind 
 or another, always happenin' in every 
 generation. Before the war broke out, 
 Capt'n Trevelyan's that's the present 
 owner, sir father an' mother died within 
 a day o' each other, and the Capt'n went
 
 off up the country an' married his first The 
 cousin, like the Trevelyans always did. Secret of 
 She was the child o' first cousins, and so San 
 was he; so the Trevelyan blood now is Juan 
 pretty much of a muchness, and the Capt'n 
 and his wife and daughter are as like each 
 other as peas in a pod. Well, sir, the 
 Capt'n's young wife stayed with her parents 
 in the northern part of the State, while 
 he went to the war, and for four years 
 the island grew wild, without nobody to 
 look after it but a few niggers in their 
 cabins that 'lected to keep on stayin* 
 there. Then the Capt'n was badly 
 wounded in one of the battles around Rich 
 mond, and laid for months in the hospital 
 there, 'fore they patched him up so as he 
 could get home to his wife. Nuthin* 
 would do him but to come back to live 
 on San Juan. But what with fire, and 
 armies, and relations dyin' off, and losing 
 property, the Trevelyan family ain't what 
 they used to be. There ain't much pros 
 pect for their child the girl that was 
 born at San Juan soon after the war." 
 
 " Then there is no son ? " 
 
 "There was one, sir," said the man,
 
 The dropping his voice. "The young lady 
 
 Secret of is the livin' image of the Capt'n, when I 
 
 San first see him in the war. The gayest, 
 
 Juan open-handedest, handsomest, young officer 
 
 in his brigade. They say his heart's 
 
 bound up in Miss Ariana." 
 
 "Ariana, by George!" exclaimed Sar 
 gent ; " there's a name for you." 
 
 " It's a family name, sir," answered 
 the man, who saw nothing to smile at. 
 " I've only seen the young lady once, my 
 self, when I took a sailing party in near 
 their shore to get a look at the island ; 
 and then she was riding her tackey poney 
 into the surf to give it a bath. A regular 
 beauty, Mr. Sargent a dare-devil Tre- 
 velyan all over ; pity there ain't any better 
 look-out for her, or anybody good enough 
 to marry her, and take her away from the 
 wreck o' that old tumble-down house and 
 family." 
 
 " You are not consistent in your sym 
 pathy for the Captain," observed the 
 young man, upon whom this bold charge 
 had been made with a sidewise glance, 
 half-cunning, half-pathetic. 
 
 " Oh, sir ! but I haven't told you.
 
 When you know all that's happened at The 
 San Juan since the war, and all that's Secret of 
 feared may happen there, you'll understand San 
 me better." Juan 
 
 " Then go on with your yarn ; though 
 I can't say it's inspiriting in such sur 
 roundings." 
 
 "Well, sir, the story about their only 
 son is well known hereabouts. He was 
 a beautiful boy, six years old, and full o' 
 spirits ; and one evening, in the dark, he 
 went outside to play he was a wild cat. 
 Bein' a good climber, he got out on a 
 branch of a tree near the house where the 
 leaves nearly covered him, and made a 
 sound to imitate the creeter he was pre- 
 tendin' fur to be. The Capt'n, hurrying 
 to the door with his gun, fired in the direc 
 tion of the noise and deed, sir, I'm 
 the father of a little kid myself, an' it 
 chokes me to this day down fell the 
 youngster, dead ! " 
 
 " Good heavens ! " exclaimed the lis 
 tener. 
 
 "Yes, sir, dead and he lies in the 
 buryin' ground of the island, one of a 
 little row of graves with black crosses
 
 The over 'em. For, after that, the Capt'n's 
 
 Secret of wife's heart broke ; more babies were born, 
 
 San but her children never throve. The only 
 
 Juan one of the lot that survived to grow up 
 
 strong and hearty was Miss Ariana. I 
 
 kinder wish you could make acquaintance 
 
 with the young lady, Mr. Sargent. She's 
 
 prettier than any of them that come down 
 
 here pleasurin' in winter time and I've 
 
 steered many a party of fine folks through 
 
 these waters. It's foolish, maybe, but we 
 
 people round here respects the old Tre- 
 
 velyan name; and, now it's about goin' 
 
 under, we'd like to see one of the breed 
 
 saved from the fate of the rest of 'em." 
 
 " You are a creature of infinite conceit, 
 Adams," said his employer, amused. " But 
 what else is it you hint at about the present 
 condition of the family at San Juan ? " 
 
 "Nobody knows, sir. It's all rumor, 
 but there's an idee goin' the rounds that 
 the mistress is insane, and may do damage 
 to her husband and daughter. She's not 
 shut up, that's certain ; for ole Fishin' 
 Dick, who lives on the island, told me 
 she buys fish from him at the door, quite 
 regular; but she's dead white lookin', he
 
 says, and her black eyes glitter ; and she The 
 ain't never seen to smile since her boy was Secret of 
 shot." San 
 
 "And no wonder. But 'the Capt'n' Juan 
 has he, poor man, ever held up his 
 head since the tragedy ? " 
 
 "That's the strange part of it, sir. 
 Fishin' Dick says he's about with the 
 young lady sailin' and ridin' and gunnin', 
 quite lively and cheerful ; looks like a boy 
 himself, and seems not to mind anything 
 so long as he's got his daughter's com 
 pany. Only the madam never leaves the 
 house " 
 
 " Look out ! " suddenly shouted Sargent 
 in a voice of thunder. 
 
 They had been rounding the last bend 
 of a bow-knot in the stream. In the 
 shadows directly ahead of them, he saw a 
 canoe paddled by a solitary figure clothed in 
 white ; and heard from it a cry of warning 
 in a woman's voice. 
 
 Before the engines could be reversed 
 the canoe had sheered off to one side ; but, 
 in escaping collision with the yacht, it ran 
 upon the sharp end of a sunken branch, 
 and capsized immediately.
 
 The Sargent, on the lower deck in a mo- 
 
 Secret of ment, was not so quick as a young sailor 
 in his employ, who throwing a rope to the 
 struggling woman, contrived with dexter 
 ity to bring her alongside the yacht's steps, 
 by which simple means she was helped 
 aboard, before she had fairly realized her 
 plight. 
 
 But it was Sargent whose hand met 
 hers, to whom she addressed herself in a 
 voice singularly soft. 
 
 " It was my fault, not yours," she said ; 
 " when I heard you coming, I stopped to 
 wonder who it could be, instead of getting 
 out of the way. It isn't often any kind 
 of a steamboat comes along our creek, you 
 know." 
 
 " I can only be thankful that you are 
 safe," he exclaimed, fervently. " I was 
 never so horrified as when I saw you go 
 into that loathsome water." 
 
 " You are more afraid of snakes and tur 
 tles than I am, who have been brought up 
 among them," she answered, shaking out a 
 mass of night-dark hair with a movement 
 all womanly, and striving to wring the water 
 from the skirt of a shabby cotton gown.
 
 Sargent, who beheld in his treasure- The 
 trove one of the most beautiful young Secret of 
 women he had ever seen, divined at once San 
 that he had secured as a passenger the Juan 
 daughter of San Juan. 
 
 " I am sorry that we have no ladies 
 aboard," he said, with courtesy ; " but my 
 cabin is at your disposal, and so is the 
 yacht, for that matter. You will find in 
 there a mackintosh, at least, and if you 
 will direct us where to take you " 
 
 " I am Miss Trevelyan of San Juan," 
 she said, with a touch of hauteur ; " and 
 my father's house is not very far from here. 
 Might I trouble you to have my canoe 
 brought aboard, and see if it is fit for me 
 to get into again ? " 
 
 " Not until you have had some wine or 
 something," he persisted ; " and I'm afraid 
 I must insist upon that mackintosh." 
 
 "And I insist upon getting into my 
 canoe," she said, with childish wilfulness. 
 
 But the canoe, upon recovery, proving to 
 have received from the bough a disabling 
 wound, Miss Trevelyan was compelled to 
 withdraw from her attitude of superiority. 
 
 u Please take me home," she said, tears
 
 The starting suddenly to her eyes. " It's too 
 
 Secret of dreadful to think of papa, if you hadn't 
 
 San picked me up. He doesn't like me to 
 
 Juan come in here after the sun goes down; but 
 
 I'm not a bit afraid, and I did so want to 
 
 get some of the Parsons' guinea eggs for 
 
 his supper. And now they are gone, poor 
 
 things Oh ! no, there's my egg-basket 
 
 floating. Do, please, somebody, bring it 
 
 in with a boathook." 
 
 " Certainly, if you will put on this," 
 replied Sargent, after disappearing for a 
 moment to return with the rejected mack 
 intosh, the steward attending him with a 
 glass of sherry on a tray. "And drink 
 this," he added, smiling, though with a 
 note of authority in his voice. 
 
 " Yes, yes, only save my egg-basket," 
 she said, appealingly j and, his behests ac 
 complished, Miss Trevelyan had the sat 
 isfaction of seeing the contents of the 
 canoe brought safely aboard, including a 
 large gourd covered with a white cotton 
 cloth in the basket with the eggs, which 
 she hailed with heart-felt satisfaction. 
 
 "So that is what became of the good 
 things I didn't get ? " exclaimed Sargent.
 
 " They are so cross to strangers, those The 
 poor Parsons," she answered, apologeti- Secret of 
 cally ; " when they've nothing to sell, they San 
 won't come to the door, even. But few Juan 
 people go there, and if it were not for old 
 Peter with his boat, they wouldn't sell 
 much of anything. I'll give you some of 
 my honey, if you like. It's the best you 
 ever tasted ; out of the heart of the swamp 
 old Peter gets it, and it smells of magnolia 
 blossoms see ! " 
 
 Sargent did not know whether to make 
 her his guest, or leave her to herself. To 
 the delight of old Adams, who received her 
 like a princess, the young lady insisted 
 upon mounting to the bridge, where, her 
 tears, if not her garments, already dried, 
 she enjoyed, as if it had been a pleasure 
 mapped out for her, the novel experience 
 of her homeward voyage. 
 
 And now the sailors came up and 
 lighted behind them knots of pitch-pine 
 heaped in an open brazier set on the upper 
 deck, that flared with magnificent effect 
 into the vault of branches meeting over 
 head and woven together with vines and 
 parasites. By this illumination all the
 
 The higher mysteries of the forest were sud- 
 
 Secret of denly laid bare ; even the birds in their 
 San nests, like black patches against the sky, 
 
 Juan were seen through the tracery of leaves. 
 It was a wonder-world of tropic luxuri 
 ance, at which Ariana clapped her hands 
 with joy. 
 
 " Oh ! never, never," she exclaimed, 
 " have I seen our woods like this. I shall 
 tell papa what a delight you have given 
 me ; and he will thank you better than I 
 can." 
 
 Was she child or woman ? Sargent 
 could not tell. He only knew that her 
 presence exhaled a charm inexpressible, 
 that her face was beautiful as a dream of 
 a southern night.
 
 Part II 
 
 AS gay Campaspe, leaving the noisome 77,^ 
 gloom of the swamp, sped through Secret of 
 another green and fertile plain to seek the San 
 open water of the coast, behold ! San Juan 'Juan 
 lay before her, as if blocking her prog 
 ress to the eastward, along the shore. 
 
 Viewed in the clear of evening, a silver 
 surf curling upon its belt of sand marble- 
 white, its surface overgrown with wood 
 land that shook out spicy odors upon the 
 breeze the white walls of its old stuccoed 
 mansion gleaming through orange and 
 myrtle, bay and roses Miss Trevelyan's 
 home justified to the full local pride in its 
 beauty. But to Sargent's praises of the 
 island the girl hardly lent ear, so intent was 
 she in gazing at a point of the shore, on the 
 bay side, where a landing came into view. 
 
 " I see him now ! He's there, with old 
 Joshua, wondering with all his might at 
 your pretty little steam-yacht. How sur-
 
 The prised he'll be to know that I am aboard 
 
 Secret of of her," she exclaimed, joyously ; then, 
 
 San arching both hands over her mouth, she 
 
 Juan gave vent to a long cry, clear as a bird's 
 
 note, to which there was speedy answer 
 
 from the landing. 
 
 When the yacht ran close to the wharf, 
 Sargent saw coming to meet them across 
 the rotting boards a handsome man, so 
 youthful in appearance as to make it hard 
 to believe he was not Ariana's brother 
 rather than her father, and with a bright, 
 trustful look in his eyes that was Ariana's 
 own. Dressed in a suit of home-spun 
 cotton, and wearing a broad-brimmed hat 
 plaited of palmetto straw, there was no 
 other token of the rustic about Guy Tre- 
 velyan's appearance ; and his manner in 
 receiving his daughter's explanations, as 
 well as her new acquaintance, was full of 
 her easy grace. Adams was right. These 
 two scions of an ancient, hapless house 
 were strikingly alike in person; and from 
 the glad manner of their meeting, Sargent 
 correctly judged that their lives were en 
 twined in love for each other. 
 
 " It is really the first time this wild
 
 rover of mine has ever come to serious The 
 grief," said Trevelyan. " And now, Mr. Secret of 
 Sargent, you will let me show my appre- San 
 ciation of your care of her, by spending Juan 
 at least the night with us. Oh ! we will 
 take no denial, if you can put up with 
 plain fare and lodging. People call it an 
 interesting old house ; and you will find 
 no better anchorage for the yacht than in 
 our little bay, here. It will be a variety 
 upon your cruise; and we'll give you, if 
 nothing more, a southern welcome." 
 
 There was no gainsaying hospitality 
 like this ; and in a short time Sargent 
 was strolling, between his host and the 
 young lady, under an avenue of live oak 
 and olive canopied with the luscious 
 blooms of yellow jasmine, and so planned 
 to divide the island that, at the far end 
 of the road, they caught a glimpse of the 
 bounding surf on the outer beach beyond. 
 
 Sargent, until they were well on their 
 way in this bowery path, did not observe 
 that their footsteps were accompanied by 
 a man of middle age, meanly dressed, with 
 a pallid complexion and deep-set, sombre 
 eyes, stooping at the shoulders, but yet of
 
 The a build suggesting great physical strength, 
 
 Secret of who had taken his bag from a sailor, and 
 
 San was carrying it after them. 
 
 yuan Trevelyan, seeing his guest glance in 
 
 quiringly at this attendant, did not think 
 it necessary to comment upon the circum 
 stance ; but Ariana said, in her soft voice, 
 " He is a deaf mute, poor fellow ; one of 
 the sons of old Peter Parsons, whose 
 house you passed in the marsh. He has 
 lived with us oh, ever so long; and my 
 mother nursed him through a serious ill 
 ness. He follows my father like a dog. 
 I don't think Joshua could have a con 
 tented minute, if papa were out of his 
 sight." 
 
 "A grewsome comrade in perpetuity," 
 Sargent thought, while rather surprised 
 at the fact that Mr. Trevelyan appeared 
 not to hear his daughter's explanation. 
 But as at this juncture they emerged 
 from the cloying sweetness of the jas 
 mine grove into an open plateau in the 
 centre of the island, his attention was 
 claimed by the old mansion of San Juan. 
 Ancient and mouldering, the chimneys 
 leaning out of line, the roof bulging in
 
 places and sunk in others, the balustrade The 
 of the plaisance on top fallen away under Secret of 
 the weight of roses, the windows in chief San 
 part hermetically sealed, the walls of tabby Juan 
 plaster stained by the tempests of a cen 
 tury Nature had yet so enwrapped and 
 embalmed the old house in leaves and 
 flowers, it seemed to be springing from a 
 huge bouquet. 
 
 " 4 A poor thing, but mine own,' Mr. 
 Sargent," said his host, pausing to cast an 
 affectionate glance upon his dwelling, be 
 fore conducting his guest inside of it. 
 
 Upon the flag-stone of the front door, 
 Sargent started at the apparition of a large 
 black snake writhing across his pathway. 
 Seeing the visitor's look of irrepressible 
 disgust, the mute dashed nimbly forward, 
 and, with two blows of a stout stick he 
 carried, disposed of the offending reptile. 
 Sargent was quite unprepared for the 
 pallor that swept across his host's face at 
 this incident, and the dilation in his eyes 
 as if of fear. 
 
 "You must get over your antipathy to 
 snakes, if you want to enjoy our island, 
 Mr. Sargent," laughed Ariana in the
 
 The young man's ear. " It isn't uncommon 
 
 Secret of for the negroes at work here to find them 
 
 San curling about their legs ; and if only they 
 
 Juan do not rattle, we do not mind. But you 
 
 know papa can't bear to have anything 
 
 killed near the house." 
 
 Sargent was amazed that she should so 
 lightly hazard such an allusion to a tragedy 
 that must be still bleeding in her father's 
 memory. But Trevelyan, now quite him 
 self again, had preceded them into the 
 house and, turning upon the threshold 
 with quaint, old-fashioned courtesy, was 
 in the act of bidding his guest welcome 
 to San Juan. 
 
 It was quite dark as they entered, until 
 a negro girl, barefoot and stealthy, came 
 from behind a door, holding in her hand 
 a candle of bog-myrtle wax in a heavy 
 silver candlestick, by the faint light of 
 which Sargent saw that they were in the 
 panelled hall with wide double staircase, 
 familiar to frequenters of southern houses. 
 Ariana having melted, as it seemed, into 
 the panelling, her father, announcing that 
 supper was almost ready, led the way be 
 fore Sargent into a room in a wing on the
 
 ground floor, where a four-posted bed, an The 
 armchair, a washing-stand, and a dim mir- Secret of 
 ror over a mahogany chest of drawers, San 
 supplied the necessaries for his toilet. J uan 
 
 Left alone in his chamber, Sargent 
 abandoned himself to musing over the 
 strange impressions he had received. Tre- 
 velyan's beauty, distinction ; his mercurial 
 temper ; the dreadful story that had appar 
 ently left so little imprint upon him; the de 
 pressing comradeship of his mute shadow ; 
 the incident of the killing of the snake; 
 and above all, Ariana's charming contra 
 dictions of manner and character ex 
 cited their guest's keenest speculation. 
 An odd feature of the situation was that, 
 during his entire conversation with the 
 young girl and her father, neither of them 
 had mentioned the lady of the house, ex 
 cept when Ariana had touched lightly upon 
 her mother's former work of mercy in 
 nursing Joshua. 
 
 Of course it was as Adams had hinted. 
 Mrs. Trevelyan, mentally unhinged by 
 her sorrows, was by common consent of 
 her family kept in the background of their 
 speech. That he should see her, Sargent
 
 The was glad not to believe ; the consciousness 
 
 Secret of of being under the same roof with her, 
 San was enough to make him wish that, save 
 
 yuan for the bright eyes of Ariana, he were 
 again safely afloat in his yacht. Then, 
 smiling at his feebleness of spirit, he an 
 swered a summons to supper. 
 
 The meal, served in a large, bare but 
 stately apartment, was a new surprise to 
 him. The table, set with rare antique 
 damask and porcelain and silver, presented 
 such dainties as roast marsh-hen, turtle in 
 a silver dish that might have been offered 
 to the palate of a king, a crab salad, with 
 oranges and olives plucked from their own 
 plantations, and Ariana's honeycomb to 
 supplement the inevitable waffles. Coffee 
 more savory than that dispensed by Miss 
 Trevelyan from a Colonial urn surmounted 
 by a large pineapple in beaten silver, Sar 
 gent could not remember to have tasted 
 in Paris, or in the East ; and at the close 
 of the feast Trevelyan produced for him 
 a dusty bottle of Madeira that had for long 
 years been ripening under the sunshine 
 that bathed the roof of the old house. 
 "Delicious," said the guest, as he tasted
 
 the first sip of the fragrant nectar. " How The 
 is it that this has a flavor all its own ? " Secret 
 
 "That is our mystery," answered Tre- San 
 velyan, beaming like a pleased boy. "It Juan 
 is almost the last of a lot laid down by my 
 father forty years ago. But this much I 
 can tell you : with us, good Madeira is 
 not entombed in the gloom of a cellar 
 underground ; it is rather offered high up 
 on the altar of the sun in the garret." 
 
 During the progress of the meal, of 
 which Trevelyan ate but sparingly a 
 couple of the little brown guinea eggs, 
 fetched by Ariana from the house in the 
 swamp, forming, indeed, the chief part of 
 his repast Sargent did not see the mute. 
 The service of the table was performed by 
 a purblind negro butler, wearing trousers 
 of Confederate gray cloth, with an old 
 dress-coat and a ruffled shirt, evidently 
 assumed in honor of the occasion. But as 
 Trevelyan, warmed with a glass or two of 
 wine, waxed gay and even jovial, Sargent 
 became conscious, by the movement behind 
 a tall Chinese screen of black and gold set 
 before the pantry-door, that their party was 
 probably under observation by unseen eyes.
 
 The " It is that tiresome Shadow," he said 
 
 Secret of to himself; u truly, there is a point at 
 which loyal devotion can become abhorrent. 
 But as long as my host and his beautiful 
 daughter make no account of this unpleas 
 ant presence, it is surely not my affair to 
 do so." 
 
 Ariana, vanishing for a time after the 
 meal, rejoined them on the veranda, 
 whither the two gentlemen had repaired 
 to smoke their cigars under the light of a 
 moon that now flooded earth and sea with 
 radiance. So innocent her manner to him, 
 that heretofore the young man had hardly 
 felt more for her than an impulse of pro 
 tecting admiration for a lovely and confid 
 ing child. But when Trevelyan, excusing 
 himself, went into the house, Sargent rec 
 ognized with a throb of vivid emotion that 
 he was in danger of succumbing to a 
 power no child ever wielded over man. 
 Perhaps it was the inevitable march of 
 fate; but at this hour, under this light, 
 she looked like the embodiment of all he 
 had ever pictured as most winning in a 
 woman. Sitting, not upon the bench be 
 side him, but opposite on the railing of
 
 the veranda under an arch of Cherokee The 
 roses, of which the flowers, in the argent Secret of 
 gleam of the moon, looked as if sculptured San 
 from Parian marble, her shapely form and Juan 
 fair face were to him a revelation of de 
 light. A passionate admiration and sym 
 pathy arose within him for this scion of an 
 ill-starred race. He longed to snatch her 
 from behind the veil of sadness and mys 
 tery that baffled him, and go with her out 
 into the light of every day. 
 
 They talked long and of many things, 
 Ariana revealing to him more and more 
 the sweet lack of sophistication in her 
 nature. He was, by now, quite convinced 
 they had kept from her the true character 
 of the tragedy of her brother's death, 
 occurring when she was of tender years. 
 But he had not fathomed other things 
 concerning the relations of the household 
 to each other; and, most of all, he was 
 perplexed by the light-hearted insouciance 
 of the host who, returning after a while 
 to join them with all the gayety of a 
 child, made the rest of the evening pass 
 away merrily. 
 
 Sargent, again in his chamber, had no 
 
 1*33]
 
 The desire to go to bed. But for a glimpse at 
 
 Secret of the end of a leafy vista of his fairy yacht 
 San riding at anchor upon the illuminated bay, 
 
 Juan he would have thought himself under the 
 delusion of a dream. Approaching one of 
 the French windows that opened directly 
 upon a little court embowered in lemon 
 and orange trees, in the centre of which 
 a tiny stream of water trickled into a ruined 
 fountain surrounded by japonicas and cape- 
 jasmines, he gazed for so long upon the 
 bewitching pageant of the night, that at 
 last he could not resist stepping out-of- 
 doors to enjoy it further under the vault 
 of heaven. 
 
 Hardly had he gained the seclusion of 
 a clump of oleanders arching over what 
 had once been a gravel-walk, than he 
 heard a door open near him, and saw the 
 noiseless appearance upon the step outside 
 of it of a woman dressed in white, who, 
 after a brief hesitation, glided out into the 
 fuller light of the court, and turned her 
 face in scrutiny of the windows of his 
 own room. 
 
 Sargent saw at once that it was Ariana, 
 and his heart leaped up at sight of her
 
 solitary beauty. Then he perceived upon The 
 her countenance a look foreign to Ariana's Secret of 
 face, and, bewildered, he stood spellbound, San 
 wondering at the change. Surely mortal Juan 
 woman's eyes never expressed more of 
 poignant sorrow, of abiding apprehension, 
 than did this poor creature's, wandering 
 alone into the night. As he stood debat 
 ing whether to show himself and offer 
 the help or counsel she seemed to need, 
 another figure issued from the house, in 
 whom Sargent recognized the mute. 
 
 This uncouth fellow, going swiftly to 
 join the lady, was received by her with a 
 manner of chiding, which he took with 
 the patience of a loving dog. After they 
 had talked for some little time together in 
 a sign language Sargent could not under 
 stand, the man, while seeming to urge his 
 point, took out of his pocket, and held up 
 before her with chuckling and pathetic 
 glee, a large iron key. At this, the lady 
 appeared to give over her seeming opposi 
 tion, and together they passed down the 
 garden walk, and were swallowed in an 
 abyss of shrubbery. Sargent did not stop 
 to discuss with himself the ethics of the
 
 The case, but, under the goad of a young 
 
 Secret of man's infatuation, followed the pair. 
 San The path along which they preceded 
 
 Juan him opened into an alley of dwarf trees, 
 whose foliage had been long overgrown 
 and smothered by masses of hanging moss 
 that dropped like gray stalactites overhead, 
 creating a gloom neither moon nor sun 
 had power to penetrate. From this inex 
 pressibly dreary passage, the couple ahead 
 of Sargent diverged to an enclosure cleared 
 out of the environing darkness of the 
 wood, and walled with the tabby ma 
 terial peculiar to that vicinity. Here the 
 broad moonlight held again full sway, and 
 Sargent surmised that the spot was the 
 burial-place of the Trevelyans. As if to 
 typify the family's decadence in place and 
 fortune, the tombs in the middle of the 
 plot were large, costly, embellished with 
 armorial bearings and pompous epitaphs ; 
 elsewhere arose simple headstones, and in 
 a far corner, under the shelter of the 
 broken wall, stood a row of five wooden 
 crosses, marking little graves. 
 
 Swiftly approaching the largest of these 
 tiny mounds, the lady upon whom Sar-
 
 gent's gaze was riveted dropped upon her The 
 knees; and then, bending over it with a Secret of 
 burst of such impassioned grief as but one San 
 earthly love bestows upon the long-gone Juan 
 dead, she clasped with both arms the dust 
 heaped over her buried hopes. 
 
 In a flash was revealed to the looker- 
 on that this hapless mourner was not the 
 daughter of the house, but the crazed 
 mother, of whose singular resemblance to 
 her child he now remembered Adams had 
 spoken to him. With a thrill of shame 
 at his intrusion, Sargent withdrew into the 
 dense shade of the funereal avenue, but not 
 before he had seen the mute, casting his 
 own unwieldy bulk upon the ground 
 beside his mistress, seem to plead with 
 her in what could be nothing else than 
 a rude attempt at consolation. 
 
 Retracing his steps, Sargent stood once 
 more by the trickle of the fountain in 
 the little court. What he had just seen 
 touched him with deeper compassion, with 
 tenderer sentiment, for Ariana. Reckless 
 of consequence, he began turning over in 
 his mind every conceivable plan by which 
 it might be possible for him to come to
 
 The her relief, assuage the distresses of her 
 
 Secret of family, awaken in her a new sense of the 
 San joy of living carry out, in effect, all the 
 
 Juan glorious, quixotic schemes ever engendered 
 by fancy and moonshine, the plash of foun 
 tains, and the scent of flowers at midnight, 
 in a young man's ardent brain. 
 
 At last, entering his chamber by way 
 of the window as he had escaped, Sargent 
 lingered, irresolute as to whether, under 
 such environment, it were worth while to 
 attempt to court sleep at all. Suddenly, 
 the silence of the night was riven by a 
 cry from within the house a cry that 
 sickened his heart, and robbed him for an 
 instant of all strength for it was one of 
 mortal terror, and the voice was Ariana's.
 
 Part III 
 
 SARGENT dashed to his bedroom door The 
 to find it locked on the outside. Secret of 
 Outraged and reckless, he tried to force San 
 it, and failed ; then, the awful cries con- Juan 
 tinuing, bethought him of the door opening 
 into the garden by which Mrs. Trevelyan 
 had come out; and, springing through his 
 window into the court, he ran toward it. 
 As he had hoped, this barrier yielded at a 
 touch, and he found himself at the foot of a 
 flight of narrow stairs, steep and unlighted, 
 up which he groped, his heart thumping his 
 ribs at the ominous silence that had suc 
 ceeded the horror of Ariana's shrieks. 
 
 Alas ! at the top of the steps another 
 locked door interposed itself between him 
 and the poor girl he longed to succor. 
 Again and again, with frenzied strength he 
 threw himself against it in vain ; again he 
 heard Ariana's appeal for help, this time it 
 seemed to him in weaker tones. Then,
 
 The between impotence and uncertainty, he 
 
 Secret of clenched his fists and swore at fate, draw- 
 San ing back to gather all his power for a final 
 
 Juan onslaught upon the door. 
 
 Simultaneously, there was a scramble up 
 the stairs behind him ; a figure flying like 
 the wind brushed against him ; pinning 
 him against the wall, and uttering moans 
 of anguish, Sargent knew he should 
 never forget to his dying day, she put a 
 key into the lock. After her bounded the 
 mute, emitting sounds of unearthly anger, 
 his .great frame shaken with stertorous 
 emotion. Hurling Sargent out of his 
 path, the furious creature followed his 
 mistress through the door, which imme 
 diately closed after them as with a spring. 
 Chafing and humiliated at his failure to 
 be of use, horror in his heart at the possi 
 bilities of Ariana's fate, Sargent lingered, 
 with an ear against the door, straining his 
 sense of hearing, but not a sound again 
 broke the dreadful silence of the house. 
 
 What had it been ? After all, whatever 
 Ariana's terror or extremity, had not her 
 father been near to succor her ? Sargent 
 knew that, according to southern custom,
 
 the negro servants had gone away to sleep The 
 in their distant cabins ; and, with the idea Secret of 
 of detecting or intercepting some marauder, San 
 he walked around the house, looking up at Juan 
 the windows, and keeping an ear upon the 
 shrubbery. In two of the upper bedrooms 
 lights burned; he heard the murmur of 
 low voices, but all signs of violent alarm 
 had ceased. Could it have been a night 
 mare ? In any case, Trevelyan, as his 
 host, would assuredly soon come down to 
 relieve the anxiety of his guest necessarily 
 aroused by the disturbance. Had not 
 Sargent seen the one person of the family 
 from whom an unnatural outbreak might 
 have been most counted upon, away from 
 the house, he would certainly have charged 
 Mrs. Trevelyan with Ariana's terrible ex 
 perience. But not only the poor lady's 
 absence, but her mien and actions exoner 
 ated her from such suspicion. If Sargent 
 were a judge, she was no lunatic, but a 
 loving, sorrow-smitten woman, crushed to 
 earth by affliction, and shunning the eye 
 of man. And what was that moan heard 
 by him as she had rushed past him in the 
 darkness of the stairway, if not an expres-
 
 The sion of agonizing fear for the safety of one 
 
 Secret of dear as her own life ? 
 
 These thoughts chased each other 
 through Sargent's head till it felt like 
 bursting. He went back to his room and 
 waited there, seated by the door which, to 
 his amazement, he had found locked. An 
 hour, two hours passed, and Trevelyan 
 did not appear. Finally, exhausted, the 
 young man threw himself as he was upon 
 the bed, and sleep gave him merciful relief. 
 
 From a deep slumber Sargent awoke 
 next morning with a start. Through his 
 windows the sunlight poured in a dazzling 
 stream around him. In an orange-tree 
 outside a mocking-bird sang with irresisti 
 ble sweetness. From where he lay he 
 could look out upon the blue sea-line 
 laughing in matin brightness. All nature 
 was awake, refreshed, exuberant. Only 
 he carried in his bosom a heart like a 
 stone. 
 
 For, in a second, it all came back to 
 him. Stiff and sore he arose and went 
 over to drink some water from a carafe left 
 upon his table the night before. There, 
 [262]
 
 beside the tray with the water and glasses, The 
 lay a folded piece of paper. Quickly he Secret of 
 went to the door and tried it ; it had been San 
 unlocked and his visitor had come to him Juan 
 unperceived. 
 
 Sargent lost no time in speculation. 
 Tearing open with a fevered hand the 
 quaintly folded note, he looked first at 
 the signature ; to his joy it was Ariana's 
 name. 
 
 " I am safe," was written in trembling 
 characters, " but in great distress of mind. 
 After what has passed, there is nothing 
 for me but to ask you to go away from 
 our most unhappy house. If you could 
 come to the marsh-house Saturday, in the 
 afternoon, I will try to be there and ex 
 plain to you what it is due to you to know." 
 
 The man who devoured this poor little 
 scrawl paused for a moment in uncer 
 tainty, then, hastily packing his bag, went 
 out of the house wondering at the fervor 
 of his desire to remain there. 
 
 Looking back, before the foliage should 
 shut the old mansion from his sight, he 
 paused, and, with a faint hope she might 
 see him, raised his hat. But answer or
 
 The token from her there was none. What 
 
 Secret of might have been a wave of his lady's 
 handkerchief from window or balcony was 
 only the drift of white rose petals to the 
 earth. With a deep sigh he strode on his 
 way through the woods. 
 
 Vanished now was their charm for him. 
 The million dew-drops, strung upon jas 
 mine wreath and mossy stalactite, shone 
 for him in vain. The rich odor of blos 
 soms that courted his nostrils seemed to 
 him akin to the fragrance of flowers on a 
 coffin lid. 
 
 Adams, who greeted the master upon 
 his return to the yacht, was of the private 
 opinion that Mr. Sargent was about to go 
 under with an attack of malarial fever. 
 Nothing else could account to him for the 
 prompt check upon his garrulous curiosity 
 concerning the visit to San Juan. 
 
 Sargent, as long as the island remained 
 in sight, and after it had passed into a 
 pencilled streak upon the horizon, stood 
 on deck, gazing in its direction. When 
 well out again upon the dancing sea, he 
 went below to his cabin, and remained 
 there until they had made a landing. 
 
 ww
 
 A few days later, the yacht received The 
 orders from the hotel of the little town Secret of 
 on the coast that was Sargent's head- San 
 quarters for the nonce, to be again in Juan 
 readiness for a short cruise. Adams, 
 when his employer came aboard, was as 
 glad to welcome him in apparently good 
 health, as he was to unburden himself of 
 important gossip. 
 
 "You'll excuse the liberty, sir; but 
 I'm mighty relieved to see you about 
 again, lookin' like yourself. I made sure 
 that day in the swamps had laid you up 
 with chills and fevers. We people down 
 here don't 'low it could hurt us, if we 
 stayed there week in, week out. But folks 
 from the Nawth is different, I've noticed. 
 Mr. Sargent, sir, I saw Fishin' Dick from 
 San Juan in town with a fine lot o' sea 
 bass, yesterday, and there's bin a misfortin 
 happened in the family. They've lost 
 Josh. Parsons, sir, you may remember of 
 seein', that deef and dumb feller that kept 
 around always with the Capt'n." 
 
 " Lost him ? " repeated Sargent. 
 
 "Yes, sir. Heart disease, they called 
 it, that took him quite suddent j must ha*
 
 The been the very day we left there. Fishin' 
 
 Secret of Dick says the Parsonses came arter the 
 
 San body with a barge covered all over the 
 
 Juan deck with a load of fresh grass, and took 
 
 him away lyin' flat atop of it, the old man 
 
 a-polin', an' the rest uv 'em singin' hymns; 
 
 and o' course nobody ain't any idee where 
 
 he's buried. Considerable loss, Josh, was 
 
 to the Trevelyan family, I reckon, though 
 
 Dick hadn't seen any of 'em to hear how 
 
 they was a-takin' it. Mr. Sargent, have 
 
 you spoke to the doctor, sir ? You look 
 
 palish still, and kinder sickly ; and there's 
 
 stuff that'll knock spots out o' fever an' 
 
 agur, if you only take it in time." 
 
 " Thank you, I shall do very well," 
 said the young man, walking away. 
 
 Adams' tidings were a fresh opening of 
 the wound he had tried hard to heal. And 
 the fate of the poor, faithful mute excited 
 in him anew the dark suspicions with 
 which he had left San Juan. Was it 
 indeed heart disease, or was the real cause 
 of the unfortunate man's death hidden 
 forever among the accursed mysteries 
 that had made a victim of the sweetest, 
 loveliest young girl Sargent had ever 
 [266]
 
 met ? Bah ! the mere thought of it was The 
 insufferable ! Secret of 
 
 If Ariana fulfilled her promise of meet- San 
 ing him to-day, he should soon know "Juan 
 better how to deal with the problem of 
 her misfortunes. A thousand wild fancies 
 had suggested themselves, of relieving her, 
 each of them breaking in turn against the 
 wall of difficulty that confronted it. 
 
 Leaving the Campaspe at some distance 
 from the marsh-house, Sargent got into a 
 canoe, and despite the warnings of Adams, 
 that he had better let the wooded part of 
 the swamp alone, paddled up the silver 
 way leading to his destination. 
 
 When he came within sight of the 
 Parsons' settlement, his heart misgave him 
 lest Ariana had failed to come; but there, 
 tethered to the rude wharf, was her well- 
 remembered craft, patched, evidently by 
 the negroes, to serve its former purpose of 
 utility. The door of the one inhabited 
 cabin being closed, Sargent could only 
 paddle to and fro, awaiting events. Ere 
 long, he was rewarded by Ariana's appear 
 ance upon the threshold. 
 
 It was clear daylight in which he now
 
 The beheld her, and he was at once conscious 
 
 Secret of of a. great change in her young face. But 
 
 San she came down to meet him with a flash 
 
 yuan of welcome in her eyes, and, asking him 
 
 to secure his canoe at the wharf, led the 
 
 way back to the house. 
 
 The room they entered was empty, save 
 for a gaunt, impassive woman who, dressed 
 in a homespun frock of archaic cut, sat 
 spinning by a hearth where smouldered a 
 few embers covered under for the after 
 noon. The clay floor, the few chairs and 
 tables, testified to the most elementary 
 notions of comfort on the part of their 
 owners ; but the place was clean, and 
 Ariana, offering her friend a splint-bottomed 
 chair, took one near him, and sat looking 
 into his eyes with a plaintive deprecation 
 that touched him to the core. 
 
 "You need not mind her," began the 
 girl, indicating their companion. " Mary 
 is poor old Joshua's twin, and like him is 
 deaf and dumb. There is so much for 
 me to say to you, and it is so hard to say 
 it, I hardly know where to begin. But 
 first, I must ask you to pardon us for the 
 cruel way you were treated under our roof.
 
 It is not like that that the Trevelyans have The 
 been accustomed to entertain their friends, Secret of 
 but it was kind and merciful of you San 
 to go from my window I watched the Juan 
 Campaspe steam away I could hardly be 
 lieve that I had been on her deck, it was 
 as hard to realize that, only the day before, 
 I had been a happy, wilful child, for whom 
 life was one long, bright summer's day." 
 
 " Thi& is too much for you," said the 
 young man, seeing the woful tears gather 
 in her eyes, her mouth twitch pitifully. 
 
 " No, no, let me go on ; I am strong 
 enough ; I must tell you all at least, as 
 much as you ought to know to justify 
 what you had to bear. Long ago, Mr. 
 Sargent, when I was little more than a 
 baby, something dreadful happened at our 
 house all I remember of it was a little 
 coffin covered with roses, carried by ne 
 groes down the avenue to our burial- 
 ground and after that, there were other 
 baby funerals, and they were all blurred 
 together in my mind. Until since I have 
 known you, I never knew the real cause 
 of my little brother's death " 
 
 "Do not distress yourself by telling me
 
 The of what I have already heard," interposed 
 
 Secret of Sargent, impetuously. 
 
 San " You knew it, then ? I suppose every- 
 
 "Juan body did, but myself," she said. " But 
 there is something at San Juan far worse 
 something no one knew excepting my 
 poor, stricken mother who has carried 
 the dead weight of it all these years, and 
 our faithful Joshua who was in her con 
 fidence. After that terrible occurrence, 
 my poor father became subject to fits of 
 mania that took the turn of of wishing 
 to destroy me, also. To avoid parting 
 with her husband whom she adored, and 
 because in the intervals he was perfectly 
 oblivious of his awful fancies while insane, 
 my mother gave up her life to watching 
 him and me. And to think she had no 
 one to help her in her struggle, excepting 
 Joshua, who would have died for her 
 poor Joshua, who did die for her ! " 
 
 Her articulation was overpowered with 
 tears. At the sight of her despair, Sargent 
 sprang to his feet, and paced the floor, 
 while the stolid woman at the wheel, 
 aroused to notice what was passing, 
 came over and stood behind the girl, and
 
 stroked her hair, with a grim attempt at The 
 comfort. Secret 
 
 " That night," went on Ariana, finally, San 
 " he was excited more than usual by your Juan 
 presence and conversation. My mother, 
 never suspecting the approach of one of 
 his attacks, went away from her bedroom 
 for a visit to my brother's grave, leaving, 
 as she thought, Joshua sleeping as usual 
 on a cot in my father's room. Joshua, 
 who could not bear to have her go out at 
 night alone, followed her, after locking 
 my father in his room it was Joshua 
 whose hand turned the key on you, also, 
 for your safety, Mr. Sargent ; and it was 
 I who left the note on your table when 
 you were fast asleep " 
 
 " Need you tell me the rest ? " he 
 asked, as her agitation began again to rise. 
 
 " Why not ? " she said, with a dreary 
 attempt at self-command. " I don't want 
 you to think any worse of us than need 
 be. My father awoke, found Joshua 
 gone, and got hold of a key he had hidden 
 in his last attack. He came into my 
 room, and aroused me. For the first time, 
 God help me, I saw him as he is.
 
 The Oh ! it was too horrible. He told me he 
 
 Secret of loved me so dearly, he had resolved to 
 
 San send me to stay with my little brother. 
 
 Juan I begged and pleaded then I screamed 
 
 for help; and after that I believe I 
 
 fainted. Mama came, and Joshua. Joshua 
 
 captured him and carried him back into 
 
 his room. When mama could leave me 
 
 to go to them, she found papa quietly 
 
 asleep, and Joshua sitting, dead of heart 
 
 disease, beside his bed." 
 
 " And yet you sent me away from 
 you ? " protested Sargent. 
 
 " I did not know of Joshua's death till 
 afterwards. Mama, who seemed to me 
 suddenly the brave, strong, helpful person 
 of the house, did everything. She made 
 me write to you to go. Ah ! Mr. Sar 
 gent, if I have lost one parent I have 
 gained another in all these years she 
 has not dared show me her love for me, 
 because it excited him. Her life has been 
 one long sacrifice." 
 
 "These things are not for my ears," 
 said Sargent, seeing what the recital cost 
 her. " With all my soul I pity you. 
 After this it will be impossible, for your
 
 mother's safety and yours, to allow Mr. The 
 Trevelyan to remain under the same roof Secret of 
 with you. Surely you will let me act as San 
 I would for my own mother and sister Juan 
 under such circumstances." 
 
 " It is no use," she said. " My mother 
 would not consent to part with him. It 
 is I who am to be exiled. I am going 
 away from San Juan to live with a cousin 
 who knows our story. All I can ask 
 of you, Mr. Sargent, who have been so 
 strangely interwoven with our sorrow, is 
 that you will forgive us and forget us. 
 I know I have your sympathy. You saw 
 how we loved each other. To spare my 
 poor darling a knowledge of what he 
 tried to do, I had rather go away from 
 him forever " 
 
 " That is, at all costs, your best plan," 
 said Sargent, brightening. " And, by-and- 
 by, when the memory of this terrible trial 
 shall have worn away, will you allow me 
 to come to you again ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell," she said, listlessly. " I 
 think I shall be better by myself. You 
 see, Mr. Sargent, I am not as other girls 
 are. Everything I love best is doomed.
 
 The Even poor Joshua could not be spared to 
 
 Secret of protect me as he has done for years. For 
 
 San my sake he died at his post of duty. Yes, 
 
 Juan Mary," she continued, turning with signs 
 
 to the mute woman who was following 
 
 Ariana's agitated story with her eyes, 
 
 "I'm telling about your dear brother, who 
 
 was faithful unto death." 
 
 With a whimpering sound the woman 
 shrunk away, resuming her seat at the 
 distaff. To her, through habit, to Ariana 
 who had wept so much, tears did not now 
 come easily. 
 
 Sargent, after two turns over the cabin 
 floor, came back to Ariana's side. "It is 
 no use," he said ; " whatever you may 
 think, I can't help telling you. If you 
 will give me the right, I'll devote my life 
 to you." 
 
 " To me ! " she exclaimed, turning pale 
 and faltering. " To me ? " 
 
 "What does anything matter, except 
 that you are the one woman in the world 
 for me!" he said impetuously. 
 
 "You forget that I am the last of the 
 Trevelyans of San Juan," she said, color 
 mounting into her wan face.
 
 " I know what you mean, but since I The 
 laid eyes on you I have thought of noth- Secret of 
 ing else but your loveliness. Your sor- San 
 rows, the afflictions of your house, make Juan 
 you but dearer to me. Don't go to your 
 cousin, Ariana; or, if you must, let it be 
 for a time only ; then come with me, as my 
 wife, and in my love forget your past." 
 
 "I did not think there would be ever 
 any one to say those words to me," she 
 answered, still quietly, so quietly that his 
 fire was, in spite of him, held in check. 
 "You must be the most generous man in 
 the world, Mr. Sargent ; and indeed I'm 
 not ungrateful. But even if I could love 
 if I could trust myself I have made 
 a promise to my mother a solemn prom 
 ise never to marry any one " 
 
 " No one has a right to bind you by 
 such a promise you, a mere child, with 
 a lifetime before you ! " he interrupted 
 hotly, but, even as he looked, beheld in 
 her face a likeness that made him stop 
 suddenly and catch his breath. 
 
 "You see I am not like other girls," 
 she repeated forlornly, finding no better 
 phrase ; and, after that, though their hearts
 
 The were over full, conversation between them 
 
 Secret of halted, until she bade him a sad farewell. 
 Sargent, after helping her into her 
 canoe, stood on a gnarled knot over the 
 water watching her light form till it 
 was lost in the Stygian shadow of the 
 swamp. Then, in a tumult of feeling, 
 he embarked in his own canoe and pur 
 sued his way in the opposite direction. 
 
 Long years after these events, Sargent 
 repeated his assay at voyaging along the 
 Georgian coast. This time he was not 
 alone, and, in the vigor of a successful 
 manhood, and the fulness of a happy mar 
 ried life, he was able to revert with com 
 posure to the painful episode of his visit 
 to San Juan. Through inquiry of old 
 Adams, who was still pursuing his avoca 
 tion of pilot for pleasure parties from point 
 to point along the coast, he learned all 
 that was known to the public of the late 
 owners of the island. 
 
 Mrs. Trevelyan, who had died of 
 natural causes, was laid in the cemetery 
 across the feet of the children she had 
 lost; and, on the day following, her hus-
 
 band had been found dead by his own The 
 hand upon her grave. The young lady, Secret of 
 who for years had been living with a rela- San 
 tive in another part of the State, was said Juan 
 to have come back on one occasion to 
 visit her birthplace ; but this, Adams re 
 marked, was hearsay, as nobody knew for 
 certain anything subsequent to the death 
 of Captain and Mrs. Trevelyan, except 
 the burning down of the old house one 
 windy night of autumn. 
 
 "And yet," said the old pilot, reflec 
 tively, after he had delivered his informa 
 tion, " seems to me Fishin' Dick said he 
 thought he seen Miss Ariana a year or 
 two back at the marsh-house; she was 
 goin' off in a flat-boat poled by the last o' 
 them Parsonses, a deef woman twin o' 
 Josh., Mr. Sargent, if you remember him. 
 All the rest o' the Parsonses had died ; and 
 the deef woman kept house there by her 
 self for a spell; that's certain. PVaps 
 Miss Ariana came and got Mary to live 
 with her somewheres. And I forgot to 
 tell you, sir, Fishin' Dick said the lady 
 was dressed up like one o' them nuns he 
 seen onst at St. Augustine." 
 
 Cw]
 
 The Stranger Within Thy 
 Gate"
 
 "The Stranger Within Thy 
 Gate " 
 
 Part I 
 
 A WOMAN, neither young nor old, "The 
 good-looking, well-dressed, of a Stranger 
 poise of manner indicating that she was Within 
 accustomed to take the lead of affairs Thy 
 in which she had part, sat in a luxurious Gate" 
 morning-room, dictating to a stenographer 
 answers to the pile of letters lying open 
 upon her desk and held in place by a 
 paperweight incrusted with gold and 
 gems. Many of these letters were in 
 the form of application for help to their 
 writers. Some looked business-like, and 
 were reminders of dates set for philan 
 thropic meetings or associations for semi- 
 political ends. Others were invitations 
 to be present at discussions by women of 
 a variety of subjects ranging from Colonial 
 [281-]
 
 research to the green carnations of mod 
 ern fiction, or the study of modern deca 
 dent dramatists. With each in turn Mrs. 
 Ordway dealt in admirable fashion con 
 siderately, unemotionally, showing both 
 judgment and good sense. Little Miss 
 Clinch, the stenographer, to whose hard 
 lot it had previously fallen to serve at the 
 chariot wheels of some fashionable philan 
 thropists of a different stripe, felicitated 
 herself upon being in Mrs. Ordway's 
 employ. In a short time the formidable 
 pile of documents was reduced by two- 
 thirds. The tense look upon Mrs. Ord 
 way's face relaxed. Business was over, 
 and she was about to regain comparative 
 freedom for another day. 
 
 " You did not decide whether you will 
 take the chair at the Mission Meeting for 
 the Protection of Girls in their Teens," 
 suggested Miss Clinch, going back to a 
 request tabled while under consideration. 
 
 " Let me see. Wednesday of next 
 week at eleven. That crowds the Anti- 
 suffrage Meeting at twelve, doesn't it? 
 But I think I had better risk it, in view 
 of the importance of what is proposed."
 
 At this moment there was a tap upon " The 
 the door. Strange 
 
 " Come in," said Mrs. Ordway, with a Within 
 tinge of impatience in her voice. Thy 
 
 " I beg your pardon, madam," said a Gate " 
 decent elderly woman, entering; "but 
 we can do nothing at all with the new 
 housemaid who came last week ; and I 
 think there's no use trying to keep her. 
 I believe the girl isn't quite right, ma'am. 
 All last night I heard her muttering and 
 catching her breath like, in the little room 
 next to mine. So, if you don't mind 
 giving me the trifle of wages that's due 
 her now, perhaps it would be better to let 
 her go, without further trouble." 
 
 " How exceedingly tiresome ! " cried 
 the lady ; " when you had just told me 
 she did her work so well." 
 
 " I know it, ma'am. There hasn't been 
 one of them we've had in a long time 
 that was as quick and tidy. The way 
 she did the bath-rooms was a pleasure to 
 look into, let alone the pitchers and 
 basins, that I've generally such a trouble 
 to get them to clean properly. But I've 
 always noticed, ma'am, that when they're
 
 be right one way they're wrong another. 
 Stranger My own opinion is the girl is out of her 
 head somehow or other, and most of the 
 servants agree with me. They're all for 
 having her go." 
 
 "In that case," answered Mrs. Ord- 
 way, smiling, " the voice of the majority 
 carries the day. Miss Clinch, please get 
 out my wage book, and enter this pay 
 ment of four dollars for a week's services 
 to date to Ann I forget her last name 
 yes, Ann Woods, housemaid. Here, 
 Martha, is the money. Of course, she 
 can't ask me for a reference; and I do 
 hope you'll get her out of the house with 
 out a fuss." 
 
 " Never fear, ma'am ; she's not one of 
 the noisy kind ; she seems dazed like. 
 And I'm surprised at such an office as 
 Mrs. Climer's sending her to you." 
 
 " Perhaps she drinks," said Mrs. Ord- 
 way, with a look of disgust. " I shall 
 make it my business to stop in at Mrs. 
 Climer's and tell her she ought to investi 
 gate this person's habits before introduc 
 ing her into another respectable household. 
 She is young, you said, Martha ? "
 
 "Yes, m'm; Ann can't be above "The 
 seventeen, but she's tall and hearty for Stranger 
 her age." Within 
 
 "Then next time we'll have none but Thy 
 a settled person. Oh, dear! between Gate" 
 old cranks and young flibbertigibbets, one 
 doesn't know what to choose. Really," 
 she added to her secretary, as old Martha 
 withdrew, " things have come to such a 
 pass with the servant question now that I 
 try to ignore their presence in my house. 
 Old Martha and my butler and the kitchen- 
 maid are rocks who stand by me ; but the 
 rest come and go until I am worn out 
 with thinking of them. If they were not, 
 the matter would fall over me like a pall 
 every time I enter my own door." 
 
 "Then I am to accept for you the 
 chairmanship of the Mission meeting ? " 
 resumed the methodical Miss Clinch, who, ' 
 in so large a measure behind the scenes of 
 her employers in general, was well accus 
 tomed to complaints like the foregoing. 
 
 " Yes ; and, while we are about it, let 
 us jot down the points that occur to me 
 for my opening address. I will take them 
 with me presently to the meeting of our 
 
 [**.*]
 
 " The Hospital Board, where I can consult Miss 
 Stranger Cranmer, who has so much more experi 
 ence with that class than I have, about 
 what is best to say." 
 
 Miss Clinch obeyed ; and, as was Mrs. 
 Ordway's custom in composing her fluent 
 and incisive addresses, that lady arose and 
 walked back and forth in the warm, brill 
 iant, homelike apartment, where a wood 
 fire and flowers, books and easy chairs 
 and choice pictures, contributed to the 
 sense of delightful comfort. 
 
 Puzzling for a moment over an idea 
 she had not yet disentangled from the 
 gray matter of her brain, the mistress of 
 all this luxury paused in the bay window 
 looking down upon the street bounding 
 one side of her handsome corner house. 
 It was drizzling rain, and a raw east 
 wind swept up from the river, sending 
 into retreat all pedestrians not obliged to 
 be abroad. At that moment she saw 
 emerge from her own basement door the 
 figure of a young woman, carrying beneath 
 her arm a bundle wrapped up in news 
 paper. The person had no umbrella, and 
 her only protectors from the wet were a 
 
 [Jiff]
 
 smart, cheap straw hat and a thin and "The 
 tawdry jacket of drab cloth. Stranger 
 
 ut Taken away,' as De Quincey elo- Within 
 quently says," repeated Miss Clinch, " c be- Thy 
 fore injuries and cruelty have blotted out Gate " 
 and transfigured her ingenuous nature, and 
 while yet there is time for reform.' ' She 
 paused longer than usual for Mrs. Ordway 
 to go on. 
 
 " I do believe that is Ann Woods," ex 
 claimed the lady, with a regretful accent ; 
 " and she has no umbrella. Martha should 
 have seen that she had one. The girl 
 certainly seems to stagger. What a dread 
 ful thing if she should be under the in 
 fluence of liquor, and coming from this 
 house ! " 
 
 The writing was suspended, while Miss 
 Clinch came also to the window; and 
 together the two women watched their 
 forlorn sister swaying uncertain on the 
 curbstone of the street below. After a 
 brief time of apparent indecision the girl 
 started out, walking steadily enough, in the 
 direction of a line of street cars close at 
 hand. As the last flutter of the wanderer's 
 garments disappeared from view, Mrs. Ord-
 
 u The way turned around shivering, and went over 
 Stranger to put another stick of hickory upon the fire. 
 " Ugh ! I am cold," she said, extending 
 her palms to the leaping blaze that pres 
 ently sprang up. " I wish Martha had 
 not let Ann go without an umbrella. Of 
 course, she has friends, and will go to 
 them they always do; and the money I 
 paid her will keep her for a week, until 
 she gets another place. Somehow or other, 
 inefficient as they may be, those creatures 
 invariably manage to get another place. 
 It is we, the poor mistresses, whose homes 
 are disrupted by their quarrels and want of 
 conscience, who are the real objects of 
 pity in these days." 
 
 Nevertheless, Mrs. Ordway, who pos 
 sessed a somewhat vivid imagination, re 
 curred oftener than once that day to the 
 image stamped upon her mind of the girl, 
 scarcely more than a child, who had been 
 obliged to flee out of a comfortable home 
 into the stony welcome of the streets. 
 At the play that evening, when a great 
 actress was winning tears for the mimic 
 sorrows of the outcast she represented, 
 Mrs. Ordway forgot the stage and the
 
 splendid pose of the despairing Magdalen ''The 
 who held it, to think again of that lithe, Stranger 
 wavering form in the drab jacket and Within 
 cheap straw hat, with the bundle wrapped Thy 
 in newspaper beneath her arm. Gate" 
 
 Early next day, still under the spur of 
 this reminiscence, Mrs. Ordway drove to 
 the intelligence office whence the girl had 
 come to her, and interrogated the woman 
 in charge concerning Ann Woods. 
 
 " Ann Woods ? I am sorry she left 
 you, m'm. No, she has not come in here 
 to ask about another place yet ; but I 
 suppose she'll be along in a day or two. 
 I can't say I knew the girl myself, m'm ; 
 but I knew of her. Her father and mother 
 both died last year, and she's only begun 
 to live out. A pretty girl too pretty 
 not to be in a good home, Mrs. Ordway; 
 and a nice, pleasant manner, so far as I 
 can see. Don't know how she came to act 
 so queer in your house. Never heard any 
 such complaint of her before; but I sup 
 pose some of the other help went against 
 her grain, and she got kind o' nervous. 
 They will sometimes, and then they're 
 ashamed of it ; and no doubt that's Ann's
 
 "The trouble. She's proud, and she wouldn't 
 Stranger want to think a complaint had been made 
 Within against her here. I told your butler that, 
 when you sent him yesterday after a woman 
 in Ann's place. If you don't like the new 
 person I sent, Mrs. Ordway, there's an 
 other, a Swedish girl, I think will give you 
 satisfaction." 
 
 " Don't speak of another change," said 
 Mrs. Ordway, laughing, as she went out 
 and threw herself, relieved, into her carriage. 
 Of course it was as Mrs. Climer said. 
 Ann, nervous and hysterical, had escaped 
 from notice temporarily. But in New 
 York, for a good worker and nice-looking 
 girl, was there anything easier than to get 
 a place at excellent wages, where her em 
 ployers would be only too solicitous to 
 make her satisfied to stay ? Lastly, Mrs. 
 Ordway asked herself, dismissing Ann 
 Woods for good and all from her over 
 crowded sympathies, had she ever inter 
 ested herself thoroughly in the affairs of 
 one of her household servants when real 
 gratitude, or even appreciation, had been 
 her reward ? She was glad, in this case, 
 to be spared the usual result ! 
 
 \. 2 91
 
 Part II 
 
 MONTHS passed on, and still Mrs. "The 
 Ordway pursued her work for her Stranger 
 fellow-beings with the capacity and cool Within 
 zest that often made her twice as useful in Thy 
 an emergency as a more emotional and Gate" 
 softer-hearted woman could be in her place. 
 Delighting in the acts of direction and con 
 trol after her inborn inalienable nature, she 
 knew not fatigue nor tarried by the way 
 when there was a scheme to be carried 
 out in the face of difficulty. Naturally, 
 she was the pearl without price of all boards 
 and committees fortunate enough to secure 
 her, and the amount of solid accomplish 
 ment laid up to her credit in a given space 
 of time was known only to Providence and 
 Miss Clinch. But in the middle of this 
 admirable career early in the autumn 
 following the incident just narrated 
 poignant grief laid hold of Mrs. Ordway's 
 happy, prosperous life, and, like an axe at
 
 the roots of a healthy forest tree, brought 
 her crashing to the earth. Her daughter, a 
 young girl just entering lovely womanhood, 
 died, after a brief illness of diphtheria ; and 
 thenceforward there was no more heard of 
 her for many a day in the world of gay 
 society of her, a woman who had been 
 so long one of its most active members. 
 And as it is not intended that we may 
 come out of great sorrow quite the same 
 as when we passed into it, Mrs. Ordway 
 brought back with her to the consideration 
 of everyday affairs a softer side toward the 
 personality of the suffering, a greater in 
 terest in individual cases, for which she 
 was now not only ready but eager to let 
 slip into somebody else's hands the ma 
 noeuvring of undertakings for relief of 
 wrongdoing and poverty in the mass. Her 
 great energy of character took her again, 
 erelong, into several of the more needy of 
 her old charities, but it was not as a direc 
 tor that she appeared. In her deep mourn 
 ing robes, with her pale, unsmiling face, 
 she would pass from hospital wards to slum 
 visits, and spend hours upon missions in 
 the heart of such distressful regions of the
 
 great city as rent her heart with self-re- "The 
 proach that she had known them only by Stranger 
 hearsay until then. Within 
 
 One day the matron of a small down- Thy 
 town hospital Mrs. Ordway was in the Gate" 
 habit of visiting because she had found 
 there a field for her labors uninvaded by 
 those who had been her associates before 
 greeted her, upon arrival, with an ex 
 cited face. 
 
 " We have an interesting case brought 
 in this morning, madam," the woman said; 
 " a very young girl. They sent for our 
 ambulance to fetch her from the lodging 
 house where she was found lying uncon 
 scious upon her bed. The doctors have 
 been working at her for hours with a new 
 respirator, and they're beginning at last to 
 have hope they may bring her to. As I'm 
 pretty busy just now in the baby ward, I 
 thought maybe you mightn't mind being 
 by this poor creature and saying a kind 
 word to her when she can understand it." 
 
 "No, certainly not," answered Mrs. 
 Ordway, preparing to hasten to the spot 
 indicated. " What was the cause ? " 
 
 " Opium, they say ; suicide, most 
 
 1*93]
 
 "The likely," replied the matron, who had no 
 Stranger time to spend in multiplying words. 
 
 Stretched on the narrow cot where they 
 had put her, still surrounded by the 
 doctors, the patient lay stark and numb 
 awaiting the full return of the trembling 
 vital spark. 
 
 " She'll do now, by George ! " exclaimed 
 the chief surgeon to his assistants, who 
 drew back on either side of the bed. 
 " Ah, Mrs. Ordway ; glad to see you, 
 madam. If you'd like to help, here's your 
 chance, for our nurses are hard run this 
 morning. Keep sponging her face and let 
 her inhale this liquid now and then. 
 There's a fellow waiting for us in the 
 men's ward, but one of us will be back 
 here presently to make sure. It would be 
 a good thing for you to try to catch any 
 thing she may say to throw light upon her 
 story." 
 
 " Where did you get her ? " 
 
 " Called by the police to a so-called 
 lodging house, with a woman in charge 
 whose only concern was lest this girl 
 should die on her hands. Woman said 
 the girl had hired a furnished room there
 
 some weeks back, and was out of money. " The 
 Had pawned all her clothes but the dress Stranger 
 she has on, and was found this morning Within 
 insensible on her bed. Our people had Thy 
 hardly got the patient out of the house to Gate " 
 put her in the ambulance when the hag 
 slammed the door after them and locked it. 
 'Tisn't often you see one of the class she 
 represents as good-looking and refined as 
 this poor thing. There, madam, for the 
 present, I'll leave my patient in your 
 care." 
 
 Lying still and white, her hair dropping 
 in loose rings over the pillow, her dark 
 lashes sweeping a wasted young cheek, the 
 soft modelling of childhood still lingering 
 around her mouth, the sufferer suggested 
 to Mrs. Ordway something, she knew not 
 what, that laid hold upon the watcher's 
 memory with a sudden, unyielding grip. 
 
 Where under heaven could she have 
 before encountered this poor sinner, whom 
 it would have been almost more merciful 
 to let lie in the gulf of everlasting sleep ? 
 
 Little by little she retraced her recollec 
 tions of the preceding year; then suspicion 
 was aroused ; then came swift certainty.
 
 ''The Sick at heart, she recognized her dis- 
 
 Stranger charged servant, Ann Woods. With 
 Within horrible precision of detail she recalled the 
 manner of the girl's exit from her house 
 her own bored indifference about it ; the 
 pitiful swaying of the uncertain figure 
 on the curbstone in the rain ; her dis 
 appearance, alone, into the maze of 
 the great city. And oh, what a black 
 abyss it was that lay between the safe 
 shelter of Mrs. Ordway's luxurious home 
 and the haunt in which Ann had sought 
 her death ! 
 
 In ministrations to the now fully 
 aroused patient the nurse tried to forget 
 the stab of these poignant thoughts. Ere 
 long she had the satisfaction of seeing a 
 more human look come into the distraught 
 eyes, an expression of release from pain 
 around the lips. 
 
 "You feel better now, Fm sure ? " asked 
 the lady, softly. 
 
 " Oh yes, m'm ; it's like heaven to 
 what it was. God bless you for taking 
 pity on me ! It's the first I've had in 
 many a day." 
 
 " It is the doctors to whom you owe 
 
 1*9*1
 
 your life. I am only the nurse, and I "T%e 
 want you to rest now, and try to get Strange) 
 better, and not let anything trouble you. Within 
 Whatever you have suffered, it's over Thy 
 now. We will take care of you, after Gate" 
 this." 
 
 " Oh, the sweet words ! " cried the girl, 
 wildly. " And I that thought I was goin* 
 to wake up in Lady, is it me you are 
 crying for ? Don't cry ; I'm not worth 
 it. I'm no better than the dirt in the 
 streets ; and sure that's the way the old 
 woman's been treating me since I hadn't 
 the money to give her." 
 
 There was a brief silence. The lis 
 tener could not have answered. The 
 speaker waited to regain her strength. 
 
 "And me just eighteen to-morrow, 
 lady . . . But I wasn't always bad. It 
 ain't much more than a year since I was 
 bad. Lucky my father and mother died 
 before it. If they'd have lived, they'd 
 have saved me, maybe. Once, not so 
 long ago, I had the thought in my mind 
 to go to the lady I was living out to ser 
 vice with, and tell her about my trouble. 
 But she was a great lady, one of the big
 
 highflyers; an' I was only one of her 
 under-servants she'd hardly looked at. 
 Maybe, if I'd ha' told her then " 
 
 " Good God ! " came in a moan from 
 Ann Woods' nurse. The patient, un 
 heeding it, continued to doze and ramble. 
 When the doctor returned he found Mrs. 
 Ordway looking so pale and faint that he 
 insisted upon her leaving the ward at 
 once. 
 
 "The police have informed us," he 
 said, accompanying her to the door, " that 
 the girl was called Nan Woods. What 
 her real name is, of course no one can say. 
 Before her attempt to commit suicide to 
 day, she was reduced almost to starvation, 
 and I have no doubt was cruelly treated 
 by the woman with whom we found her. 
 As I told you, her clothing consists of the 
 single dress she has on now, and perhaps 
 you would like to send her something in 
 that line. For the present she is doing 
 fairly well, but there is great weakness to 
 overcome." 
 
 u I shall come back this afternoon with 
 clothes for her," said Mrs. Ordway, in a 
 voice she hardly recognized as her own.
 
 "In the meantime, here is money. Let "The 
 her want for nothing I can supply." Stranger 
 
 " Certainly, certainly," replied the doc- Within 
 tor, helping his visitor into her carriage, in Thy 
 waiting in the narrow, grimy street. " But, Gate " 
 if you will let me suggest, madam, you 
 take these things too hard. When you 
 have our experience now Good morn 
 ing, Mrs. Ordway." 
 
 As the carriage drove away, its solitary 
 occupant burst into a passion of long-re 
 pressed weeping. All that she had done 
 in public in the way of conscientious en 
 deavor during her lifetime seemed as noth 
 ing beside this one thing left undone in 
 the very sanctuary of her home. With a 
 thrill of fear she wondered whether what 
 had so recently and distressingly come as 
 a visitation to herself had not been punish 
 ment meted out to her. 
 
 Later in the same day, her spirits re 
 newed by a faint hope of reparation 
 through plans she had already evolved for 
 Ann's future welfare, Mrs. Ordway re 
 turned to the hospital. Reaching the 
 women's ward, she saw that a screen had 
 been drawn around Ann's bed, and with
 
 u The trembling limbs stood for a moment out- 
 
 Strangtr side of it. At this moment the matron, with 
 
 Within a grave face, came from behind the screen. 
 
 Thy "Oh, Mrs. Ordway," she said. "I 
 
 Gate" might have known you'd be back. You 
 
 never forget us when we need you. But 
 
 it's all over with Ann Woods. She died 
 
 just now. And I really don't know as I 
 
 could wish the poor thing to live, after 
 
 what she's been telling me."
 
 His Lordship
 
 His Lordship 
 
 IN the morning-room of a house in Hill His 
 Street, London, S. W., a council of Lordship 
 three had been for some time sitting over 
 the affairs of young Humphrey Augustus 
 William Frederic Dale, eighth earl of 
 Teviot, known to his intimates as " Tev." 
 
 The dominant figure of the council was 
 a lady, of aspect large, fair, and troubled. 
 She wore her bonnet, and that fact, added 
 to the general appearance of the house in a 
 winter livery of brown hollands, suggested 
 that the dowager countess of Teviot had 
 come up to town for the day only. 
 
 Standing with his back to the fire was 
 a gentleman advanced in years, spare, 
 hook-nosed, courteous, well-dressed 
 evidently in ordinary times a delightful 
 and lovable old boy but at present ab 
 normally out of humor. He was Colonel 
 Kilgore, cousin on the father's side and 
 late guardian of the young earl.
 
 The third member of the inquisition 
 revealed himself in look and manner so 
 unmistakably the family solicitor that en 
 largement upon his appearance were need 
 less. Mr. Cliff was a type of a class as 
 unchanging and as solid in exterior as the 
 Bank of England. But, in spite of his 
 composed countenance, in all the years he 
 had been bestowing advice upon the noble 
 house of Teviot, he had never at heart 
 felt more depressed than now. 
 
 "I really think, Adelbert," said Lady 
 Teviot, addressing herself to the colonel, 
 after an interval of uncomfortable silence 
 between the three; "I really think you 
 might give me your definite opinion about 
 my poor, dear boy." 
 
 " God bless my soul, madam," an 
 swered the old gentleman, explosively, 
 "do you want me to say that I think 
 he is a very bad egg ? " 
 
 The dowager shuddered, extending her 
 right hand to ward off the unpleasant 
 image. 
 
 " No, Adelbert," she answered, angeli 
 cally ; " I do not ask you to be vulgar, 
 and to wound my feelings, already lacer-
 
 ated by misfortune. If my son has been His 
 imprudent " Lordship 
 
 " Imprudent ! Imprudent ! " interrupted 
 the colonel, shifting his position to walk 
 up and down the hearth-rug like a lion in 
 a cage. " He has wrecked his future and 
 brought you to poverty, and made himself 
 the talk of the kingdom by his monstrous 
 follies. That much is indisputable. The 
 question now is what remains to be 
 done with him, and with Belmore ? " 
 
 " He might sell one or two of the 
 pictures out of the gallery at Belmore 
 and I dare say the gold service would 
 fetch a pretty penny," murmured Lady 
 Teviot. 
 
 " Pooh T A mere drop in the bucket 
 beside his debts, and what the place costs 
 to keep up," replied the colonel. 
 
 " Then, it will be no doubt best to let 
 Belmore to some of those rich Americans." 
 
 " I wish we could be so fortunate," 
 said the colonel, dryly. 
 
 "And this house is sure to be taken 
 for the season at a good price ; but he 
 must do over the drawing-rooms. As for 
 me, I can get on at Cosycote; for the
 
 His house is comfortable, if small. Or we 
 
 Lordship might go to Alassio, where one lives for 
 a mere trifle. If I could only induce 
 Tev to go with me to Alassio, I would 
 tell Jennings to begin packing at once, 
 so that we might start this week. There 
 is the little villa Lady Dorking had last 
 year; if we could engage it, by wire, Jen 
 nings wouldn't mind hurrying, for once. 
 In that delicious air of the Riviera, Tev's 
 health might improve." 
 
 "It is not Tev's health that concerns 
 me," remarked the heartless colonel. " He 
 is strong enough to do more mischief in 
 his day, and my advice to you is to keep 
 him away from Alassio. It is quite too 
 convenient to Monte Carlo. No, my dear 
 Agnes, Cliff and I are fully agreed on one 
 point. There will be no money to carry 
 on Belmore a week longer at the present 
 rate. You must dismiss the establishment, 
 and remove to Cosycote, where, with the 
 trifle of income you will have, you can 
 live at least respectably." 
 
 " As to giving up Belmore, it is only 
 what I should have done, had Tev mar 
 ried Gertrude ; so I am prepared for that.
 
 But I am awfully afraid, Adalbert, that His 
 my poor boy will hardly be content at Lordship 
 Cosycote." 
 
 " I presume not," said the colonel, a 
 grim smile in the wrinkles around his 
 eyes. " But I hardly think I would 
 trouble myself, Agnes, with preparations 
 for Lord Teviot's accommodations any 
 where in England, just at present." 
 
 " Then what what is there to do ? 
 You know Tev hates travel for travel's 
 sake. But no doubt it would be better 
 for him to go somewhere, out of this 
 cruel, carping society of ours, which has 
 no mercy on the indiscretions of a lad." 
 
 " Hum ! Yet London can stand a fair 
 share of 4 indiscretions,' " said the colonel. 
 " However, my dear lady, there's nothing 
 to be gained by harping on the old string. 
 If Lord Teviot does us the honor to keep 
 his engagement to meet us here this morn 
 ing, it is possible we may obtain from him 
 some token of what are his own wishes in 
 the matter." 
 
 " Oh, Tev wishes only to please me 
 and you " murmured Lady Teviot, 
 melting at thought of her son's submissive
 
 His state of mind. " I sent you the beautiful 
 
 Lordship letter he wrote me, Adelbert. I have not 
 had such a letter from him since that time 
 he was in trouble at Eton. A young man 
 capable of writing such a letter as that, 
 Colonel Kilgore, must not be judged by 
 the laws that apply to mere commonplace 
 people." 
 
 u Unfortunately, society at large is not 
 prepared to segregate Lord Teviot from 
 mere commonplace people ; and his offences 
 against it have been too numerous and 
 flagrant to be overlooked. In plain words, 
 Lady Teviot, your son is an outlaw in 
 most of the houses he was born with the 
 right to enter." 
 
 The dowager burst into tears. Mr. 
 Cliff, not unaccustomed to scenes of this 
 nature, and in the case of this especial 
 client having been treated to them more 
 than once, walked to the window and 
 looked out, clearing his throat in a fashion 
 that might mean anything. 
 
 "To tell you the truth, Adelbert," 
 sobbed her ladyship, "Teviot has disap 
 pointed me in many ways, but in nothing 
 more than in his conduct regarding his
 
 engagement. I had every hope from the His 
 project of his marriage with Gertrude Lordship 
 Clair." 
 
 " Lord Brelincourt has forbidden Lord 
 Teviot his house, madam," replied the 
 colonel, briefly ; " and Lady Gertrude 
 would be a brave woman if she took 
 Teviot now." 
 
 " There are others," went on Lady 
 Teviot, dreadfully depressed, but making 
 a forlorn attempt to nail her colors to the 
 mast. " With our large connection, Teviot 
 can certainly find somebody as good as 
 Gertrude Clair, and with as good a fort 
 une, too." 
 
 The colonel shrugged and made no 
 answer. 
 
 " Then there is no help for it ! " ex 
 claimed Lady Teviot, between genuinely 
 bitter sobs. " He must marry an Ameri 
 can." 
 
 At the moment of this dramatic climax 
 the door opened and Lord Teviot came 
 into the room. 
 
 He was a handsome, boyish young fel 
 low, with almost a feminine softness of 
 feature, small of frame, Celtic of coloring,
 
 and pleasant of voice and manner. Cer 
 tainly there was nothing about him to 
 suggest the traditional black sheep. And 
 his attire was carefully and elegantly ad 
 justed to meet the "last cry" of the fash 
 ionable tailors. 
 
 " Good-morning, mummy, dear," he re 
 marked, cheerfully, kissing her upon one of 
 her delicately marked eyebrows. " Good- 
 morning, colonel. Mornin', Cliff. Who's 
 goin' to do it now ? " 
 
 " Do what, my son ? " answered the 
 dowager, trying to maintain her dignity. 
 
 " Marry an American." 
 
 " Oh, Teviot, do not jest about this ! 
 It is your only hope," exclaimed his mother, 
 tearfully. " Colonel Kilgore and Mr. 
 Cliff will tell you that you have reached 
 the last extremity." 
 
 "They have been tellin' me that any 
 time this half a dozen years," remarked 
 his lordship, grinning, while the colonel 
 and the lawyer looked things unutterable. 
 
 41 The last extremity!" reiterated her 
 ladyship, who felt, poor woman, vaguely 
 pleased to have acquired a phrase at once 
 expressive and unanswerable.
 
 A few days later a huge Cunard steamer His 
 ploughing westward through a rough au- Lore 
 tumnal sea carried among her first-class 
 passengers that ornament of hereditary 
 legislation in the kingdom that dispenses 
 civilization to the world the young Lord 
 Teviot ! His only acquaintance on board 
 was his man-servant, a discreet Briton. 
 But, as no sooner does one touch the quays 
 at Liverpool on the sailing day of a crack 
 boat bound for America than a distinct 
 atmosphere of the States makes itself felt, 
 Teviot began almost at once to be at home 
 among his fellow-passengers. The greater 
 number of them were in families, return 
 ing after a summer of travel in England 
 and on the continent. Before they had 
 anchored off Queenstown to take on the 
 latest mails, our young lord was identified 
 by several aspiring members of the new 
 world's society. While he stood in a 
 bored sort of way, watching the greedy 
 gulls swarm in the wake of the ship and 
 the gymnastics of the young ladies of Cork 
 who had come out in their rowboats to 
 dispose of merchandise aboard, he was 
 touched on the arm and accosted by a
 
 His stranger in a fur-lined coat. Teviot's 
 
 Lordship attention was just then riveted by the spec 
 tacle of a "wild Irish girl" slipping reck 
 lessly down a line from the upper deck 
 into her boat below, wherein a man lay 
 napping in the morning sun. He was not 
 disposed to give ear to the newcomer. 
 But the stranger, waiting patiently, ended 
 by offering his card, with the assurance 
 that he and his family, who were aboard, 
 would be most happy to do all in their 
 power to secure the social enjoyment of 
 Lord Teviot during his visit to the States. 
 My Lord Teviot, however, was not 
 thus to be thrown away upon a chance 
 acquaintance of shipboard. The steamer 
 sailing from Southampton two days before 
 his own had carried in its mail-bags a 
 letter addressed by the countess dowager 
 to an acquaintance she had made in the 
 Riviera the year before a Mrs. Harvey 
 Wing, a lady of high fashion at Newport 
 and in New York. 
 
 Mrs. Wing was, when the letter came 
 to her, still at her house at Newport, al 
 though the season there had long since 
 died a natural death. She was feeling
 
 very tired of everything, and uncertain His 
 what she should next " take up." The Lordship 
 marriage of her daughter, some months 
 before, to a man who had shown early in 
 the action that he meant tt> keep his wife 
 under his influence, had deprived Mrs. 
 Wing of present companionship ; for, in 
 that respect, Mr. Wing, who spent his 
 days as far as he could conveniently get 
 away from Mrs. Wing, was not available. 
 It was horribly dull at Newport, and yet 
 she could not think of opening her house 
 in town till the time of the Horse Show, 
 still some weeks distant. The aspect of 
 the sea and of nature in general under the 
 autumnal skies did not exhilarate her. To 
 enjoy the country at that season one must 
 have plenty of work or cheerful company, 
 or a light heart ; and Mrs. Wing had none 
 of these. She was, in fact, in that men 
 tal condition not classified by science, 
 but in our latter days commonly occurrent 
 among women of her class ; Mrs. Wing 
 was in want of an " object." 
 
 We may now take the privilege of 
 reading, over her shoulder, the letter 
 from Lady Teviot, that, as the perusal
 
 progressed, recalled animation long absent 
 from its recipient's face. 
 
 Many women, on receiving each other's 
 letters, skim over the earlier portions with 
 an intuitive feeling that the most interest 
 ing part will be found, like the snake's 
 rattle, at the finish. Having assured 
 themselves on this point, they go back and 
 imbibe at leisure the information or disser 
 tations they have skipped. 
 
 Thus, Mrs. Harvey Wing, surprised at 
 an epistle from Lady Teviot, by whom, 
 although they had exchanged protestations 
 of friendship in the south of France the 
 year before, she had fancied herself for 
 gotten, made scant work of the dowager's 
 dull paragraphs about the times, the 
 weather, the Premier, and her own health. 
 The exact point at which Mrs. Wing's 
 eyes began to take on a look of animation, 
 was as follows : 
 
 " I suppose you remember me mention 
 ing my son, although his engagements did 
 not permit him to join me at Cannes. He 
 is 'going out in the Lucania on Saturday to 
 see America ; and I have given him your 
 address, which I found upon a card that I
 
 fortunately kept. I fancy there will be no His 
 trouble in his finding you or your husband, Lordship 
 who, you said, was always in the city when 
 he was not on his yacht. Either one of 
 you would do to put Teviot in the way 
 of seeing things a bit; but I must beg you 
 to recommend him to the less expensive 
 hotels, as he is rather down on his luck 
 just now, and he has not, like you Ameri 
 cans, money to throw away. I have 
 several times thought of you, since 
 Cannes, when I've met your country 
 people abroad, squandering on all sides 
 and ruining hotels and show places for 
 us I wonder why they can't find 
 something to amuse them at home, 
 without coming here in such troops. 
 
 " To return to Teviot ; as you always 
 seemed so obliging and are a mother 
 yourself, I will tell you, in confidence, 
 that it is very important for him to 
 recoup his losses in some way ; and if he 
 should find a match suitable to him in 
 America I have made up my mind to 
 bear it, and to pray that, in the end, it 
 may be sanctified to me. I remember, 
 now, that we got your daughter's wedding
 
 His cards ; so, having just settled her, you 
 
 Lordship will be in the way of knowing how these 
 things are done in your society. I am 
 going to ask you to have an eye upon my 
 boy, and keep him from making any irre 
 mediable mistake. You know one can't 
 always trust a young man's judgment to 
 choose right, when there are a lot of 
 pretty girls, such as I am told you have 
 over there though, for my taste, they 
 are generally too pale, and decidedly for 
 ward and overdressed. It is quite impos 
 sible that he should -marry any but one 
 of your great fortunes ; a little one would 
 not be worth while ; and I hope she will 
 be healthy and presentable, and not talk 
 through her nose. They would live 
 chiefly here, at Belmore, which is one of 
 
 the finest places in shire, and there 
 
 is a house in Hill Street, and a castle in 
 North Wales, and one or two little 
 estates where he rarely goes. I am about 
 removing from here to Cosycote two 
 hours out of town and if you ever 
 come to England, again, you must let me 
 know that you are in town, and come out 
 to take luncheon with me, some day.
 
 Teviot, as you will see, is one of the His 
 handsomest young men of his set, and he Lordship 
 has beautiful manners ; and although he 
 has given us a little anxiety by his wild 
 ways lately, he is only a boy, after all. 
 Then, too, he lost his poor father just as 
 he was going into Eton ; and his guar 
 dian has proved very exacting and uncon 
 genial with him, so there is much excuse 
 for Teviot. If he marries a decent girl, 
 your women are pretty generally straight, 
 I find, except when they are very fast, 
 and then they are quite too dreadful, 
 there is no reason why my son should not 
 settle down, and reform altogether of his 
 youthful indiscretions. I am writing at 
 greater length than I intended, but the sub 
 ject justifies me. It is really quite a comfort 
 to think I am sending my dear lad out to 
 one who might be his mother for your 
 daughter was nineteen last year, I think, 
 and Teviot is but three and twenty. No 
 doubt you will see him soon, and I will 
 leave the rest to you. If there should 
 come a time when you think I could do 
 any good, I will not flinch. I will go to 
 America myself."
 
 Mrs. Wing drew a long breath, and let 
 fall the sheet. To her cheek, for a 
 moment, sprang the good red American 
 blood of Bunker Hill. 
 
 " It's too late in the day to expect the 
 British aristocrat to change her spots," 
 she said, hotly. " But it will go hard 
 with me if I can't pay that old thing off, 
 for her impertinence. When I think 
 how she used me and my carriage ! 
 Who wants her lordling, anyway ? As if 
 we hadn't enough of them sponging upon 
 us " 
 
 From anger she subsided into thought. 
 Many ideas trooped through her head, 
 many schemes were evolved, dismissed, 
 recalled, readjusted, before she felt herself 
 relieved by the sense of anticipated triumph. 
 As for the conclusion at which she finally 
 arrived, to disclose it will be the burden of 
 this tale ; but Mrs. Wing's wildest imagin 
 ings could not then have compassed the 
 measure of her ultimate success in " getting 
 even " with Lady Teviot. 
 
 A characteristic feature of the situation 
 was that, at the close of her reverie, the 
 wave of patriotic protest in the offended
 
 lady's breast had subsided, to give place to His 
 
 a complacent satisfaction in the prospect Lordship 
 
 that, after all, everybody or almost 
 
 everybody would envy her the position 
 
 of bear-leader to a perfectly new young 
 
 lord! 
 
 The first thing needful was to write a 
 letter to her husband, bidding him seek 
 Lord Teviot, and fetch him to Newport 
 for a week. 
 
 " It is a good deal to do for any one," 
 she thought, sitting down before a desk 
 littered with silver-mounted frippery, " to 
 write to Harvey. On second thoughts, I 
 believe I can get it all into a telegram. 
 Harvey will come, of course ; he can't 
 afford just now to decline an overture 
 from me." 
 
 And Mr. Wing, reclaimed for the occa 
 sion, appeared duly in the unwonted capa 
 city of master of his own house, bearing 
 in his train Lord Teviot and my lord's 
 valet, a dark, fateful personage, who might 
 have been twin-brother of the Sphinx. 
 Teviot, on his best behavior, appeared to
 
 unexpected advantage in the eyes of both 
 host and hostess. He was natural, good 
 humored, and decidedly pleasant company ; 
 bore himself without ostentation, and 
 seemed always anxious to be rid of the 
 state attending upon the handle to his 
 name. On the whole, Mr. Wing felt that 
 if there were a choice between the various 
 youngsters who smoked his cigars, ate his 
 entrees, and drank his wines, this English 
 man was remunerative beyond the average. 
 
 But even such a consolation for the 
 labor of enforced appearance as the head 
 of his own large, expensive, and trouble 
 some establishment, and for conjugal atten 
 tions expended during the period of three 
 unbroken days, did not suffice for the rest 
 less Mr. Wing. On the morning of the 
 fourth day of Lord Teviot's visit, he ex 
 plained to his noble guest that he had been 
 called back to town on business, but hoped 
 Teviot wouldn't, on that account, hurry 
 himself about leaving. 
 
 On this point Teviot, who in the course 
 of his varied experience had learned to 
 recognize a good thing when he saw it, 
 was fully in accord with Mr. Wing. The
 
 ease, the luxury, the completeness of life His 
 in the beautiful home of the millionnaire Lordship 
 in spite of a lot of people asking one out 
 to dinner ten days ahead seemed a direct 
 recompense bestowed on him by Fortune 
 for his previous suffering at her hands. 
 Mrs. Wing, a youngish, lively woman, 
 who looked out for all his comforts and in 
 whose company he needed not to trouble 
 himself with mental effort, as she supplied 
 all that sort of thing herself, was the en 
 tertainer best suited to his needs. 
 
 So Mr. Harvey Wing at once returned 
 to New York, and Lord Teviot continued 
 to while away the melancholy autumn days 
 in great comfort at Newport. 
 
 Thus far his lordship had given no 
 evidence of more than a vague general 
 appreciation of the young women to whom 
 Mrs. Wing had made him known. The 
 society of the fair sex seemed to him, in 
 deed, less enlivening than that of the men 
 attracted into the radius of his distinguished 
 presence. Nor had Mrs. Wing disturbed 
 the serenity of his enjoyment by any hint 
 as to the dowager's intentions for her 
 wandering son. Like a clever creature,
 
 His as she was, Lord Teviot's hostess bided 
 
 Lordship her time. 
 
 One afternoon while they were out 
 driving in her victoria a gleam came into 
 Mrs. Wing's eye as she saw approaching 
 them two girls on horseback, attended by 
 a groom. One of these maidens was 
 possessed of a rare and obvious blonde 
 beauty ; the other, small, dark, piquant, 
 shone like a ruby in juxtaposition to a 
 pearl. 
 
 " By Jove ! Who's that ? " demanded 
 Lord Teviot, sitting forward, as, in accom 
 paniment to Mrs. Wing's salutation, he 
 took off his hat. 
 
 "That! Which one?" asked Mrs. 
 Wing, indifferently. 
 
 "The light one, I mean. She is the 
 prettiest I've seen, by far. How is it we 
 never set eyes on her before ? " 
 
 "That is Miss Cassandra Meigs, of 
 Chicago," said the lady, as if dismissing 
 the subject. 
 
 " The name's a mouthful, but she's a 
 stunner. Where has she kept herself 
 since I came here ? " 
 
 " They've been in Lenox for a week." 
 
 !>*)
 
 "She's a stunner that light one," His 
 observed his lordship, in whom did not lie Lordship 
 the gift of original expression. Mrs. 
 Wing bestowed on him a transient in 
 scrutable glance. 
 
 " Many people prefer her sister's looks, 
 the dark girl, you know, Miss Olive 
 Meigs," she said. " They are orphans, 
 and have been spending the summer here 
 in the Van Schoonhoven villa." 
 
 " What alone ? " asked his lordship, 
 with a stare. 
 
 " No ; duly chaperoned by a lady who 
 has been presented at three courts. Theirs 
 is a peculiar case, and the newspapers will 
 never have done speculating as to which 
 one is to get the plum." 
 
 " What plum ? " 
 
 " A fortune of for the sake of local 
 color let us say fabulous millions. It 
 seems that their father, who died a few 
 years since, was so afraid they would be 
 married for their money, he left the most 
 eccentric of wills. For all their present 
 and possible needs, married or unmarried 
 and until they shall be thirty years old, 
 ample provision was made by a trust which
 
 gives them an income, but keeps the estate 
 until that time undivided. But it's gen 
 erally believed there is in existence a later 
 will, which is not to be produced until 
 they are both married." 
 
 "Oh, I say," remarked his lordship 
 
 "And that later will," went on Mrs. 
 Wing, seeing, without looking, sidewise, 
 " disposes of nearly the whole estate to 
 one daughter leaving the other with 
 but a pittance. The puzzle is that no 
 one knows which of them is to be rrtade 
 rich by that later will." 
 
 "I say," repeated the earl, incredu 
 lously. 
 
 "This is everywhere believed. People 
 are pretty equally divided as to the Miss 
 Meigs' attractions ; but the uncertainty as 
 to their fortunes keeps their admirers agree 
 ably on edge. Portia's caskets, and the 
 rest of it." 
 
 " But isn't it rather rough," exclaimed 
 Lord Teviot, who did not understand the 
 last allusion in the least, "upon the girl 
 who's to be left out in the cold ? " 
 
 " She won't suffer from privation in any 
 case ; and the mysterious document is sup-
 
 posed to recommend her to the considera- His 
 tion of her sister. After all, it's no worse Lordship 
 than your fashion in England, of bestow 
 ing a rich feast upon one child and cheese 
 parings upon the others. But, as the matter 
 seems to interest you, suppose we look in 
 at their house on our return. I dare say 
 they wouldn't mind giving us a cup of tea. 
 You will have a better opportunity then 
 of contrasting Cassandra's fair beauty with 
 Olive's brunette coloring. And your call 
 would be such a gratification to the lady 
 who has been presented at three courts." 
 
 " Now you're chaffing me," observed his 
 lordship. 
 
 But he made no objection when, a half 
 hour later, the horses' heads were turned in 
 at the gates of the Van Schoonhoven villa. 
 
 A tall cathedral clock, standing sentinel 
 at the foot of the stairs, boomed five as 
 the little earl followed his leader into the 
 hall of the Newport dwelling tempora 
 rily in the possession of the two Misses 
 Meigs. 
 
 The servants had just lighted the lamps, 
 revealing the medley of eastern draperies, 
 foliage plants, tiger skins, Moorish pot-
 
 teries, Indian brass, and Sevres vases, that 
 with chairs and tables and gold-worked 
 screens form the customary encumber- 
 ment of the modern hall sitting-room. 
 
 There, kneeling before a fire of logs, 
 Olive, in her riding habit, was in the act 
 of feeding the blaze with bits of drift-wood 
 that sent up swirls of blue and violet flame. 
 Behind a tray just deposited by the foot 
 man, a lady in black crepon and jet was 
 transferring little scoops of tea from a 
 Queen Anne caddy to a well-scalded pot. 
 Occupying, as if by right, the very centre 
 of the rug, and commanding the first atten 
 tion of the newcomers, the beautiful Cas 
 sandra stood warming her hands, chilled by 
 a long ride in the autumn air. 
 
 Teviot, when after due introduction he 
 stood beside her, did not reach more than 
 to Miss Meigs' shoulder. Olive, who as 
 they came in had sprung up in pretty and 
 unaffected fashion, and was now seated 
 with Mrs. Wing on a small couch with 
 many pillows, was in size a better match 
 for his lordship. 
 
 As Teviot now looked into the fair im 
 mobility of Cassandra's face, the charm of 
 
 [**]
 
 her beauty seemed in some way to elude His 
 him. He found his attention wandering Lordship 
 to the staccato sentences, the bird-like 
 chirpings, the trills of girlish laughter that 
 issued from the nest of cushions shared 
 between Mrs. Wing and Olive. In that 
 portion of his anatomy that did duty for a 
 heart, the little man even fancied an im 
 pulse to think it would be rather nice if 
 Belmore House had a mistress who could 
 laugh outright like Olive. 
 
 Teviot, aware of the necessity in his 
 case, had up to this time been dallying 
 with American opportunity. Heartily as 
 he objected to the yoke of marriage, more 
 heartily he felt the need of cash and con 
 sequence now lacking to his enjoyment of 
 favorite haunts abroad. And at last he 
 had made up his mind to show the daring 
 accredited by history to some of his his 
 toric forefathers. He was determined not 
 to go home from America without carrying, 
 as a mask for his previous misconduct, a 
 rich and pretty wife. 
 
 Cassandra, now confronting him, seemed 
 all that could be desired. Her inanimate 
 magnificence of contour and complexion
 
 1$ assured him that a Lady Teviot, ne'e Meigs, 
 
 lordship might take her place unchallenged among 
 the previous beauties of his line. He 
 could count upon a welcome to her from 
 his mother and her friends. The display 
 of her would serve to rehabilitate him in 
 the eyes of all but unimportant critics. 
 Had he been but reasonably sure she was 
 the owner of the fortune, Teviot would 
 have felt he was falling in love in the best 
 old-fashioned way. 
 
 Olive, on the other hand, possessed for 
 him little " face value." She was not only 
 small and brown and slim of figure, she 
 was distinctly mischief-loving and uncon 
 ventional. Her eyes, when he had been 
 presented to her, had surveyed him with 
 a glance of indifference tinged with mock 
 ery. There was not much to be said for 
 her on the score of manners. Yet, when 
 she smiled, there was something that caused 
 him to look again quickly. 
 
 Teviot was quite sure she thought noth 
 ing of his factitious advantages of name 
 and title. He had an uncomfortable im 
 pression that between her and Mrs. Wing 
 was passing some merriment relating un-
 
 favorably to himself. But, all the same, His 
 her voice and laugh and gesture possessed Lordship 
 for him an attraction he had certainly not 
 language at his command to define. 
 
 Other people came in, among them a 
 young man or two, who gravitated natu 
 rally toward Olive, whilst Teviot and 
 Cassandra were as naturally left together 
 on the rug. When Miss Meigs finally 
 moved, in a slow, majestic way, to take a 
 chair, Teviot felt constrained to follow her. 
 With his back turned to Olive, the young 
 lord was now enabled to fix his distracted 
 attention once more upon her sister. Then 
 Cassandra's statuesque beauty, her soft gut 
 turals of speech, her large, unsmiling eyes 
 turned upon his, renewed in him the convic 
 tion that, all things else being equal, he need 
 go no further to find his bride. The first 
 impression of her beauty took new hold of 
 him. His imagination, piqued by Mrs. 
 Wing's story, conceived the idea that the 
 general attitude of those present toward 
 Cassandra was one of recognition of supre 
 macy. Absurd to suppose that the elder 
 sister would be passed by for a mere chit 
 of a creature like that little laughing Olive.
 
 His When Mrs. Wing arose to withdraw 
 
 Lordship Lord Teviot from the scene, he observed, 
 standing behind Olive's chair, a young man 
 who bore upon his artless countenance an 
 expression denoting that he would not 
 yield his place there unless compelled to 
 do so by an armed force. 
 
 " You must come again to see us, Lord 
 Teviot," said Olive, hospitably, as their 
 English visitor stopped before her to say 
 good-bye. " By-the-way, let me introduce 
 to you our friend, Mr. Christopher Strong 
 Lord Teviot." 
 
 As the two men perfunctorily shook 
 hands, upon his lordship's face there was 
 no particular expression. One American, 
 more or less, made so little difference to 
 him. 
 
 Upon the countenance of Mr. Strong 
 there was manifest an unmitigated scowl. 
 
 "There. You had to speak to him," 
 Olive said, exultingly, when my lord had 
 passed on. " But how rude you were to 
 the pretty little boy ! " 
 
 To explain this situation we shall have to 
 confide to the reader what Olive's legal pro 
 tectors and nearest of kin were as yet una-
 
 ware of. Mr. Christopher Strong, a young His 
 professional man of New York, in Newport Lordship 
 for a day only, had very recently succeeded 
 in wringing from Miss Olive Meigs a con 
 ditional promise to marry him, if at the 
 end of a reasonable time her present pre 
 dilection for him should prove justified by 
 mature acquaintance. 
 
 Strong, who against his own better 
 judgment had laid his future at the feet of 
 this little witch, had now just arrived from 
 town to find installed as her visitor the noto 
 rious Lord Teviot, against whom he had 
 lost no time in entering an honest protest. 
 But Olive, wilful as she was innocent of 
 mind, had refused to hear what she believed 
 an outbreak of jealousy ; and the result 
 was her audacious forcing of Strong into 
 an acquaintance with the object of his 
 animosity. 
 
 41 Very well," said the young man, con 
 trolling himself with an evident effort. 
 " There are not many points I'd wish to 
 make with you. But I ask you to trust 
 my judgment that Lord Teviot is not fit 
 for you to know." 
 
 " Prove it ! " she said, in girl fashion ;
 
 and, when he did not answer, stamped 
 her foot. Seeing that he had no idea of 
 yielding his point, the rebellion of her nat 
 ure against constraint led her to regret that 
 she had ever dreamed of subjecting her 
 will to his. " Understand that I take 
 orders from no one," she said, hotly 
 " and that I shall know and associate with 
 exactly whom I please." 
 
 " You are resolved ? " he asked, grow 
 ing white around the lips. 
 
 Olive nodded. What further might 
 have occurred in their ill-timed conver 
 sation was arrested by the departure of the 
 other guests and the appearance, at Olive's 
 elbow, of her chaperon. 
 
 Mrs. Blight, an adept in the art of has 
 tening the departure of long-staying young 
 men, had only that morning bestowed upon 
 the girl a polished screed against this very 
 aggressive and unpromising Mr. Strong. 
 At the first glimpse of the aspect of affairs 
 between them now, she felt that her elo 
 quence had not been thrown away. 
 
 Mr. Strong retired without the request 
 to return for dinner, that, considering the 
 shortness of his stay, he had hoped might
 
 have been extended to him. And Olive, His 
 without a word for anybody, ran up to her Lordship 
 room. 
 
 Mrs. Blight, a sister of the first wife of 
 the late Mr. Meigs, had been invited, 
 during the last illness of that eccentric 
 gentleman, to occupy her present post. 
 She was the childless widow of an expa 
 triated anti-American, to whom had been 
 allotted the felicitous award of dying upon 
 English soil. Her sacrifice of returning 
 to reside on her native continent was bal 
 anced by her liberal allowance from the 
 trustees of the estate. She, more than any 
 outsider, was credited with knowledge of 
 facts about the supposed will which was to 
 make one of her charges an heiress of 
 enormous wealth and leave the other only 
 a fairly well-dowered maiden. In conse 
 quence, Mrs. Blight's relation to society 
 was in marked contrast to that of the 
 ordinary paid chaperon. 
 
 Whatever her knowledge, Mrs. Blight 
 kept it severely to herself. No one could 
 say that she faced to the right-about for one 
 
 [JJJ]
 
 more than the other of her girls. The 
 most that could be alleged against her was 
 that she disapproved of matrimony for the 
 young, and thought Cassandra's manner 
 was thrown away upon a republic. 
 
 The three ladies, dining together on the 
 evening of Teviot's first call, fell into dis 
 cussion of the earl. Mrs. Blight, in a flood 
 of aristocratic reminiscence, gave the others 
 the full history of his noble line, his brill 
 iant position in the peerage, and the beau 
 ties of Belmore House and park (which, 
 in company with her late husband, she had 
 once visited in a fly from the neighboring 
 village). On the subject of Lord Teviot's 
 personal career, the chaperon was less ex 
 pansive, for it had now been some years 
 since she had lived abroad : in any case, 
 even the vices of the aristocracy were viewed 
 by her through a veil of rose-color. 
 
 "Do you not think, my dears," she 
 concluded, as they rose to return to the 
 drawing-room, " that the young man has 
 an extraordinary look of ahem race?" 
 
 " I think he is very nice," said Cassandra, 
 placidly. " If he can find a mount, he is 
 going to ride with me to-morrow."
 
 "Contrast him, for example," pursued His 
 Mrs. Blight, not looking toward Olive, Lordship 
 who, with two red spots in her cheeks, had 
 been eating her dinner in silence, "with 
 that specimen of the average American 
 roturier Mr. Christopher Strong." 
 
 " You needn't bother about Mr. Strong," 
 said Olive, brusquely. " He's gone, and 
 we sha'n't see him any more. I've made 
 up my mind to cultivate his lordship. Just 
 now Cassy has first chance, but if she'll 
 give me leave I'll enter the lists with her and 
 tilt for a coronet. It will be fun, for Mrs. 
 Wing confessed that she has told him the 
 old story about our financial prospects." 
 
 "The truth of which, my dears, you 
 were only permitted to know last week, 
 when Olive reached her majority," inter 
 rupted Mrs. Blight, elegantly, and was just 
 then called away to write one of her model 
 notes. 
 
 " And a great relief it was to have our 
 minds set at rest on that score," said Olive, 
 when the sisters were alone. " Now, 
 Cassy, I'm badly in need of fun, but I 
 won't go in for Lord Teviot if you say you 
 want him c for keeps.' >:
 
 His " Absurd, Olive. As I said before, he 
 
 Lordship is very nice, but I met him only this after 
 noon. I meant to ask you who you 
 thought made that wrap Mrs. Wing wore 
 to-day ? " 
 
 " I don't know," replied Olive, absently. 
 She was revolving schemes by which she 
 might relieve her overburdened heart, 
 punish Strong for having been true to her 
 and to himself, dispose of Lord Teviot as 
 an intruder, and at the same time still the 
 pricks of her own conscience. 
 
 One day in December the young Lord 
 Teviot set out from his lodgings near Fifth 
 Avenue Mrs. Wing had taken heed of 
 the dowager's instructions to recommend 
 him to a cheap abiding-place where he was 
 at little expense for meals for a walk in 
 Central Park. 
 
 It was an unusually mild day, although 
 ice held the ponds and snow lay under trees 
 that, when the sun shone bright, stained 
 the whiteness at their feet with purple isles 
 of shadow. After coquetting for a while, 
 
 {336}
 
 the sun had gone altogether into seclusion, His 
 leaving the great city's pleasure-ground Lordship 
 enveloped in pearly mist, through which 
 the sounds of far-off fog-horns on the river, 
 the whiz of elevated trains, and vehicles 
 rumbling along the adjacent streets, fell 
 deadened upon the ear. A lover of nature's 
 moods might have found especial charm in 
 the eerie look of the gray-green landscape, 
 in the wood-smells called forth by damp 
 ness, in the promise of spring that thus 
 insinuated itself amid the assertions of rude 
 winter. But Teviot had for such things 
 neither sight nor hearing. Perhaps, for 
 the first time in his life, the little lord 
 was possessed by a distinctly keen sensation 
 of anxiety. Hurrying through the fre 
 quented portions of the park, he reached a 
 certain bosky dell, its branches alive with 
 gray squirrels and chattering sparrows, and 
 disappeared within its precinct. 
 
 Since the first meeting at Newport of 
 his lordship with the Misses Meigs, hardly 
 a day had passed that he had not recklessly 
 exposed himself to the influence of their 
 society. In vain had been marshalled 
 before him at the Horse Show, the For-
 
 His trait Show, the Opera House, everywhere 
 
 Lordship a glittering phalanx of maids and matrons 
 illustrating American charm and beauty. 
 To all other women save the two fair 
 sisters from Chicago, who were known to 
 be handicapped by the terms of an exas 
 perating will and no one knew which of 
 them Teviot preferred he was as ada 
 mant. And as attentions to girls under 
 their circumstances were as good as disin 
 terested, some people even began to look 
 on Teviot as that rara avis among visiting 
 Englishmen a man who was marrying 
 for love. 
 
 To prove, however, that he had not 
 altogether forsworn his nationality, his 
 lordship accepted on all sides, and with no 
 discrimination as to the givers, invitations 
 to clubs, coaches, yachts, dinners, lunch 
 eons, suppers, hunts and visits out-of-town. 
 The inconvenience of a future call to 
 repay these civilities in kind upon his own 
 soil was the less feared, because of Teviot's 
 long practice in the matter of contracting 
 debts he had no intention of ever being 
 able to liquidate. 
 
 It was a pleasant life, and soothing to
 
 one who had for some time seen nothing His 
 but the cold shoulders of respectable people Lordship 
 in his own country, to be caught to the 
 bosom, as it were, of select American hos 
 pitality, to be told off, in every company, 
 to the society of the most dignified matron 
 or the choicest young girl ; to have prece 
 dence, everywhere, over the white-haired 
 and reverend seigniors of the republican beau 
 monde. Teviot, who cared little for his 
 rank and less for his title, was actually 
 puzzled to understand the extent of his 
 own deserving in the minds of these patri 
 otic Americans. But being a man, and a 
 young one, he thought it all very jolly, and 
 certainly an immense improvement upon 
 what he would just now have been enjoy 
 ing in his native island. 
 
 In the merry-go-round of dining and 
 wining and junketing with his New York 
 admirers, however, Teviot had not lost 
 sight of the main chance. New York, 
 for an episode, was pretty fair; and the 
 Yankees on their own ground were a 
 " good sort," certainly. But London, and 
 Belmore, and rehabilitation of his bank 
 account, were the objects to be striven for.
 
 Save for his entanglement with the Misses 
 Meigs, immediately upon arrival, he might 
 even now have had a mind at rest, with 
 the certainty of fetching his own price in 
 the matrimonial market of America. 
 
 It sometimes occurred to him to wonder 
 whether there had been any mischief in the 
 intentions of his first patroness in so soon 
 running his bark upon the shoals. But 
 Mrs. Wing, after her return to town for 
 the winter, was so fully occupied with her 
 own infelicities with Mr. Wing, that Lord 
 Teviot had no opportunity to call her to 
 account. The fact was that, though he 
 admired the elder of the two sisters more 
 than any other woman he had seen, and 
 was fully persuaded she would fill all per 
 sonal requirements likely to be made upon 
 his countess, his vagrant fancy had actually 
 attached itself with enthusiasm to Olive. 
 
 Never had Teviot experienced, at the 
 hands of any woman, so complete a men 
 tal and moral overhauling as that bestowed 
 upon him by this young girl. At no mo 
 ment, since their acquaintance set in, had 
 he been able to decide whether she was in 
 jest or earnest. Her purity of mind, her 
 
 {340}
 
 downright speech, her wit and merriment, His 
 were a revelation to the jaded little lord. Lordship 
 In her company, he was continually unde 
 cided whether to enjoy himself, or to turn 
 and go away in a pet. And although he 
 could not but often suspect her inclination 
 to afford him an opportunity to make love 
 to her, somehow or other the opportunity 
 had never come. 
 
 Thus matters stood when, after they 
 had been meeting in a general way for 
 many days in New York, and Lord 
 Teviot had begun to chafe under a sense 
 that she was eluding a conversation alone 
 with him, Olive had given him a hint of 
 something better. 
 
 Only an off-hand hint, to be sure, that 
 if he happened on such a day, at such an 
 hour, to be strolling in a certain portion 
 of the park he might perchance find her 
 there prepared to talk with him uninter 
 rupted, upon subjects of importance to 
 both of them. 
 
 As might have been expected, no sooner 
 had Olive gone to this length, than the 
 earl began to pull himself together, and 
 wonder what the deuce the little girl was
 
 His after. Racking his brain for an explana- 
 
 Lordship tion of her overture, he jumped at the 
 conclusion that, like most of the women 
 he had known best, Olive was, after all, a 
 self-seeker, and meant, if possible, to 
 get ahead of her sister by bringing him 
 to a prompt declaration and offer of his 
 hand. 
 
 Yet here, trotting up and down an alley 
 of the little wood she h#d indicated, her 
 hands close in her muff under the frills of 
 one of those fantastic capes that keep man 
 at his proper distance, he found Miss Olive 
 Meigs, looking not in the least sentimental, 
 but rather equipped for business. 
 
 " Come on. Walk up and down, while 
 we talk," she said, authoritatively. " It 
 will keep us from taking cold." 
 
 "Is that what you brought me here 
 to say ? " he asked, taken aback and 
 piqued. 
 
 "No.. I brought you here chiefly to 
 see whether you would come," she an 
 swered, giving him a side glance and a 
 smile of the variety he had found irresisti 
 ble. " But there were other reasons." 
 
 " By Jove, I believe you'd get me to go
 
 anywhere, if you held up your little fin- His 
 ger," he exclaimed, with abandonment of Lordship 
 thought of consequences. 
 
 "Don't be too sure. But, since we 
 have been together, I have at least kept 
 you from stagnating, haven't I ? " 
 
 Another one of those side glances, and 
 it was all up with his little lordship. 
 
 " Well, rather," he said, throwing pru 
 dence to the winds. " You see, I never 
 saw anything like you, before. And I'll 
 give you my word you're the only woman 
 that never bored me. I don't believe I 
 could stand another woman, after you " 
 
 " Stop," she interrupted. " You have 
 some conscience, I hope, and you can't 
 think it's fair to delude a poor little Choc- 
 taw savage with false hopes. A little more, 
 and you'll be making me a proposal." 
 ." Well, what if I did ? " he said, staring. 
 
 " Only that I, too, have a conscience, 
 and I don't want to let a trustful young 
 man, so far from his home and friends, 
 commit himself to me without knowing 
 the real state of my affairs." 
 
 Affairs. Ominous word. It brought 
 back to Teviot his debts and duns, and 
 
 1.343}
 
 His even a dim vision of his late guardian and 
 
 Lordship the protesting Mr. Cliff. And it chilled 
 his affection for both the Misses Meigs. 
 
 " Besides there is some one else to be 
 taken into consideration ; my poor sister 
 " she said with a choking voice. 
 
 She had turned away her head. Teviot 
 thought she was about to cry. Was there 
 no woman living who couldn't " have it 
 out " with a fellow without a cry ? 
 
 " Poor, dear Cassandra, to whom you 
 have paid just exactly as much attention 
 as you have to me. How will she bear 
 it ? Even the newspapers are saying she 
 will be Lady Teviot. Pray, don't speak 
 till you've heard what I think it my duty 
 to tell you now. Everybody knows over 
 here how important it is for Lord Teviot 
 to marry a great fortune, and everybody 
 knows it's only for him to choose which 
 one he will take." 
 
 "Yes," said his lordship, simply, as she 
 paused for him to speak. 
 
 " Then I want to prove to you that, for 
 your sake and for my sister's, I can be 
 magnanimous. I want you to know that, 
 only the week before we met you, Cassy
 
 and I were informed by Mrs. Blight that His 
 by the terms of my father's will " At Lordship 
 this point the young lady executed a tiny, 
 delicate sneeze, and the delay it occasioned 
 was, to her hearer, the torment of Tan 
 talus. 
 
 " Oh ! good gracious, I just knew we 
 should take cold in this damp place. Let 
 us walk out to the driveway yonder," she 
 said in a prosaic way. " Where was I ? 
 oh, it's an old story now ; we have 
 known it for several weeks ; there actually 
 was such a will as has been talked about 
 (my poor, dear father, how anxious he was 
 to save us from fortune-hunters, wasn't 
 he ?) a will leaving his whole large 
 estate to one of us, and a mere trifle of 
 income to the other and the lucky one, 
 as might have been supposed, was his 
 eldest child, Cassandra." 
 
 Lord Teviot fairly gasped. For some 
 moments he said not a word, then asked 
 permission to light a cigarette. So 
 absorbed was he in this occupation and 
 in reassembling his forces to take up 
 conversation at the embarrassing point 
 where she had let it drop that he did
 
 not observe, standing under a tree on 
 the western driveway where they issued 
 from the wood, the figure of a very 
 impatient young man, who looked much 
 out of humor with the part assigned to 
 him to play. 
 
 "You you a surprise me real 
 ly," observed his lordship, when he could 
 no longer keep her waiting for an answer. 
 Internally, he was wondering how soon 
 he could count upon finding Cassandra at 
 home to him, and thinking with fine sym 
 pathy that one day he would make up 
 her loss somehow to this very plucky little 
 Olive. 
 
 "That is just where we differ," said 
 Olive, in clear tones, as she beckoned to 
 her side her waiting cavalier. " For you 
 do not surprise me in the least. Mr. 
 Strong, here, will bear me witness that 
 I told him, not half an hour since, exactly 
 how our interview would end. And, I am 
 bound to say, he scolded me ferociously 
 because I would carry out my plan." 
 
 Lord Teviot, perplexed and suspicious, 
 looked from her to the darkling Strong. 
 
 "Don't speak to each other, please,"
 
 said Olive, laughing. " This is my chance ; His 
 no one shall take it from me. I told my Lordship 
 sister also, Lord Teviot, of the lesson I 
 meant to give you, and I had her leave to 
 try it, though I have no idea that it will 
 do you any good. Cassy shall know how 
 nearly your heart has been in my keeping 
 to-day, and I don't think it will help you 
 with her. In any case, you ought to be 
 told of two things more. First, that I'm 
 engaged to marry Mr. Strong please, 
 Christopher, do keep still, and don't ramp 
 over the road like that, I'm coming now, 
 this minute and, second " 
 
 " I think I have had enough," said his 
 lordship, with some semblance of dignity. 
 
 " Perhaps ; but it is due to tell you this. 
 My father, at Mrs. Blight's solicitation, 
 made a will later than the one I spoke of, 
 and by that Cassy and I though we 
 were not to know of it till I had reached 
 the discreet age of twenty-one share 
 his fortune, equally." 
 
 "You will allow me to wish you a good- 
 morning," remarked the little earl; and 
 turning on his heel, he walked rapidly 
 away.
 
 His It was a full year from that date when 
 
 Lordship Lord Teviot returned to England. Before 
 leaving America, which he had seen under 
 many phases, he heard of the marriage 
 of the younger Miss Meigs to Mr. 
 Christopher Strong; and of the reputed 
 engagement of her sister to a senator in 
 Washington, who, to the gratification of 
 Mrs. Blight, might be looked on by the 
 American people as reasonably sure to 
 represent them one day as ambassador at 
 an important foreign court. 
 
 On the steamer going home, Teviot 
 talked these things over with his wife. 
 But they gave him less concern than did 
 the immediate consideration of how he 
 should present this lady to the countess 
 dowager. There could be no cordiality 
 between them on the ground of old 
 acquaintance, since the new Lady Teviot 
 was none other than the late Mrs. 
 Harvey Wing, who had obtained her 
 divorce from Mr. Wing some months 
 before it occurred to her to enliven her 
 wealthy solitude by again taking up his 
 lordship as "an object."
 
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