IQVELLS LIBRARY
 
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 Lelia; ort 
 The Three 
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 veiled. In 
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 Freckles, 1 
 The Dark 
 They Were 
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 Divorce, b_ 
 
 Life of Washington 20 
 
 Social Etiquette 15 
 
 Single He^rt and Double Face . 10 
 Irene ; or the Lonely Manor . . 20 
 Vice Versa, by F. Anstey* . . .20 
 Ernest Maltravers, by Lytton.20 
 The Haunted House, and Cal- 
 
 deron tl.e Courtier, Lytton. .10 
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 Life of Marion 20 
 
 Paul and Virginia 10 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
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 GO. The Two Duchesses 20 
 
 01. Tom Brown at Rugby 20 
 
 62. The Wooing O't, by Mrs. Alex 
 
 ander, Part 1 15 
 
 Do. Part II 15 
 
 63. The Vendetta, by Balzac 20 
 
 64. Hypatia, by Kingsley, Part 1.15 
 
 Do. Do. Part 1 1. 15 
 
 65. Selma, by Mrs. J. G. Smith. . .15 
 
 66. Margaret and Her Bridesmaids. 20 
 
 67. Horse Shoe llobinson, Part 1.15 
 
 Do. Do. Part II . 1 5 
 
 68. Gulliver's Travels, by Swift . . 20 
 60. Amos Barton, by Geo. Eliot.. 10 
 
 14 & 16 Vesey Street, New York.
 
 Pri 
 
 Newport, 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP. 
 
 NFM'-YORK: 
 CHARLES SCRIBNHR'S SONS. 
 
 1884.
 
 A NEW AND UNIFORM EDITION. 
 
 GEORGE W. CABLE'S 
 WRITINGS. 
 
 THE GRANDISSIMES: A story of Creole Life. 
 
 \Vith a frontispiece, "THE CABILDO OF 1883.'' i volume, I2mo. Price 
 reduced to $1.25. 
 
 Mr. Cable has given this volume a slight revision as regards dialect, 
 wherever and only where it had no humorous value. The dialects of 
 the Creole Ladies, of Raoul Innerarity, and Clemence, remain undisturbed. 
 
 OLD CREOLE DAYS. 
 
 With a frontispiece, "'THE CAFE DES EXILES." I volume, I2mo, uniform 
 with The Grandissimes, $1.25. 
 
 POPULAR EDITION OF OLD CREOLE DAYS. 
 
 Two series, sold separately, 30 cents each. The same in cloth, gilt top, 
 with frontispieces, 75 cents each. 
 
 " Here is true art at work. Here is poetry, pathos, tragedy, humor. 
 Here is an entrancing style. Here is a new field, one full of passion and 
 beauty. Here is a local color, with strong drawing. Here, in this little 
 volume, is life, breath, and blood. The author of this book is an artist, and 
 over such a revelation one maybe permitted strong words." Cincinnati 
 Times. 
 
 For sale by all book sellers, or sent, post-paid, by the publishers. 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, 
 
 & 745 Broadwav, New-York.
 
 NEWPORT
 
 NEWPORT 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP 
 
 NEW YORK 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 1884
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1884, BY 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS. 
 
 JTrankltn preset 
 
 RAND, AVERT, AND COMPANY, 
 BOSTON.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. "FORTY LOVB" . , . 3 
 
 II. THE LIFE OF A LETTER . , . 23 
 
 III. MRS. BLAZER'S DINNER ...... 44 
 
 IV. SOME IMPORTANT TRIFLES . . < . 64 
 V. A WOMAN'S AGONY ....... 78 
 
 VI. DEWDROPS AND DIAMONDS ..... 95 
 
 VII. LORD HAWKSTANE'S JUST PRIDE .... 119 
 
 VIII. HALF-LIGHTS. 131 
 
 IX. POLO, AND CERTAIN POSSIBILITIES .... 147 
 
 X. YOUNG THORBURN AND OLD THORBURN . . 162 
 
 XI. OLIPHANT, OCTAVIA, AND JOSEPHINE ... 180 
 
 XII. IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF FATE .... 196 
 
 XIII. HAWKS AND DOVES 208 
 
 XIV. THE FLIGHT OF A METEOR ..... 217 
 XV. A MAN'S ORDEAL 233 
 
 XVI. LITTLE EFFIE ........ 250 
 
 XVII. REPENTANCE ........ 261 
 
 XVIII. THE NIGHT- VOYAGE . . . . . .271 
 
 XIX. LOVE AT LAST , 285 
 
 1125558
 
 NEWPOBT. 
 
 i. 
 
 " FORTY LOVE." 
 
 AT the beginning of the Newport season there is a 
 gentle novelty about the surroundings, even to 
 those who are most familiar with them : indeed, for 
 the moment, it closely resembles the surprise of a dis 
 covery. 
 
 "Don't you think so?" Mrs. Deering asked her 
 cousin Oliphant. They were walking together through 
 the Casino grounds, and had just taken some chairs on 
 the inner lawn. " I've always found it so. How is it, 
 Eugene, with you?" 
 
 Her vivacious, rosy face, as she put the question, 
 made more impression on him than her remark. 
 
 "I have no experience," he said; "it is so long, 
 you know, since I was here last, and every thing was 
 different then." Perhaps it occurred to Mrs. Deering 
 that, under the term " every thing," he included many 
 circumstances of deeper moment than mere outward 
 changes ; but he went on as if these had no place in 
 
 3
 
 4 NEWPORT. 
 
 his thoughts: "This establishment is so recent that it 
 can't be a very old story even to you. I certainly feel 
 the novelty yon speak of; but will it go on? That's 
 what I want to know. If it will, 1 shall be grateful to 
 Newport." 
 
 " Ah, now you are asking too much," said his cousin, 
 bestowing upon him so much of reproof as the spar 
 kling contentment in her young eyes would consent to. 
 " I hope you're not going to begin sighing, after my 
 advising you to come here. Please observe that it isn't 
 flattering to me." 
 
 "True, "said Oliphant, smiling; "you might con 
 strue it so. Well, you sha'n't hear a murmur. Not a 
 drum shall be heard, nor a funeral note escape me." 
 
 "I should trust they wouldn't," Mrs. Deering ex 
 claimed. " You really have no cause to complain, 
 Eugene. You are well off; you are still young ; " and 
 she was considering whether to add " you are hand 
 some," when he cut short the enumeration. 
 
 "Not so very youthful." he said. "There is a 
 great difference between being 'still young,' and young 
 without any adverb. When you put that in, you clap 
 on about ten years at one stroke." 
 
 " Well," replied Mrs. Deering, taking advantage of 
 the chance, "even ten years can't make it so very bad. 
 How old are you, really?" 
 
 Oliphant affected to ponder. "That," he said, "is 
 one of the great mysteries of the period. I may be 
 able to tell you, though, some day or other." 
 
 She knew, however, that he had probably entered 
 his fortieth year ; and in fact there were little glintings
 
 " FOETT LOVE." 5 
 
 of silver white here and there in the comely chestnut 
 hue of the thick, short, curling hair beneath his hat- 
 brim. The tolerant sun disclosing these was not more 
 indifferent to their presence than Oliphant : as for 
 Ma r y Deering, she thought they added distinction to 
 his fine bearing and strong, quiet face. So did other 
 people. It may be said here that, although Oliphant 
 had been for three years a widower, women of un 
 doubted attractiveness had several times, without his 
 being aware of it, made him the object of sentimental 
 reveries. At this very moment, his cousin, who from 
 her point of view as a married woman was quite dis 
 interested, busied herself with a silent inquiry as to 
 whether he had positively decided never to wed again ; 
 being convinced that if he persisted in such a decision 
 it would be a great pity. 
 
 From where they sat they caught, through the curi 
 ous lattice- work of the dark Horseshoe Gallery, a 
 glimpse of the clock-tower, with its gilded dial, above 
 the verdant, fountaincd quadrangle ; on the other side 
 they had in near view the brown galleries and brick 
 front of the theatre and racket-court, near which, in 
 an additional enclosure, were a number of lawn-tennis 
 players; limber young men and picturesque, some 
 in white flannel, others with long scarlet stockings, 
 colored belts or dark sashes, and white hats bent down 
 towards their ears, like the petasus of Mercury shorn 
 of its wings. The two listened to the low twang of 
 the rackets in the hands of these players, alternating 
 with strains of the lightest possible music from one 
 comer of the balcony ; walt/es and French opera, in-
 
 6 NEWPORT. 
 
 spired by a witticism and beaten up, if that were 
 conceivable, with white of egg. A brilliant sunlight 
 streamed over every thing, touching the shingle roofs 
 with bright grays, making vivid the summer trees that 
 stood golden-green side by side with heavy conifers ; 
 and from that portion of the building devoted to the 
 Casino Club a dormer appeared -to be winking, with a 
 combination of mediaeval and of Yankee humor. 
 There was a mixture in the architecture ; at all events, 
 a hint of something old English, something Nuremberg- 
 like, and something Japanese. 
 
 "This is a fascinating piece of work," Oliphant 
 remarked, looking around ; " a delightful mimicry of 
 I don't exactly know what. There's an affectation, 
 perhaps, in staining the wood to make it look old, but 
 the whole thing seems to be unique ; and it's like 
 Newport. For Newport has its own atmosphere, and 
 yet you feel that it is always imitating something else." 
 
 " I'm not sure you do justice either to the building 
 or to Newport," answered his cousin, dissentingly. 
 " They're both delightful ; so what is the use of trying 
 to pick some flaw? That's the way we're always 
 spoiling our enjoyment of things, nowadays ; or, if we 
 don't, some critic does it for us under the pretence 
 that he was born for the purpose. Are you going to 
 assume that rdle ? ' ' 
 
 " Fate has played the critic with me, and taught me 
 how," was Oliphant's reply. "When circumstances 
 have always forced me to see the flaws in life, how can 
 you expect that I shouldn't form the habit of looking 
 for them a little in every thing? "
 
 "FORTY LOVE." 1 
 
 "Oh, you are a dreadful,, horrible cynic," said his 
 cousin, concentrating the quick, soft lines of her small 
 face upon him, in an amusing glance mingled of horror 
 and beaming approval. "This is just the way you 
 talk about every thing." 
 
 Eugene merely laughed. " Shall I keep silent, 
 then? " he asked. 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Deering, with despotic prompt 
 ness. 
 
 They remained a while without speaking. As water 
 flowing against a rock wears wave-lines into it, so a 
 person who has been much alone has the marks of soli 
 tude worn into his being. Traces of that slow erosion 
 were discernible in Oliphant's face when in repose, 
 showing with what force silent experiences had wrought 
 upon it. His light-hearted cousin was not much in 
 clined to analyze what she saw there ; probably she 
 could not have done so if she had tried ; but as she scru 
 tinized him sidewise at this moment, something made 
 her think of his past. She remembered how he had 
 gone very early into a business life, and had had to 
 toil desperately until within a short time ; but that was 
 nothing : had not Roger, her husband, clone the same ? 
 and he was still toiling, while Eugene, after becoming 
 a bankrupt, had recovered, and by a lucky hit leaped 
 into independence. She remembered, further, how she 
 had always supposed him to be unhappy with his wife ; 
 he had been mis-mated. But there, again, how fortu 
 nate ! Was he not free, with many advantages should 
 he wish to make a happier match, and well provided 
 for living by himself if he preferred wha,t she thought
 
 8 NEWPORT. 
 
 so regrettable a state ? Life is so simple when we 
 don't have to live it ourselves. 
 
 Grievances are noisy : griefs are little heard from. 
 Luckily we cannot trundle our sorrows about in plain 
 sight, when we go walking ; hence Mary Deering was 
 not made uncomfortable by knowing just what was in 
 Oliphant's mind ; and the people who kept assembling 
 more and more in the Casino, while these two sat 
 there, were able to display themselves one to another 
 with an unconcern as suave as if they had borrowed 
 their minds, no less than their trim attire, from the 
 latest fashion-plates. Pretty sight it was : how placid 
 they looked ! Eugene fondly believed them all much 
 happier than himself ; he was young enough for that, 
 you sec. But Mrs. Deering was the first to resume 
 conversation, which she did by commenting on an in 
 dividual here and there. 
 
 Eugene, having grown absent-minded, only half 
 heard her. lie was humming under his breath an old 
 ballad, the words of which that came to him, though 
 he did not utter them, ran thus : 
 
 "An' I were as fair as she, 
 Or she were as kind as I ; 
 What pair could have made, as we, 
 So pretty a sympathie! " 
 
 What glimmer of recollection, what sunken hope, 
 brought this tune into his mind? He was roused by 
 his cousin's sharper accent. 
 
 " Look, Eugene ! I want you to notice these peo 
 ple." 
 
 " Which? Coming along the path here? "
 
 "FORTY LOVE. 1 ' 9 
 
 " Yes ; the lady in front is Mrs. Farley Blazer." He 
 beheld a large, stout woman with a smoky white face 
 and quietly but not well dressed, who moved with 
 slow grandeur, as if in her youth she had been swan- 
 like, and had not quite forgotten the fact. " And the 
 gentleman is old Dana Sweetser. Doesn't look old, 
 does he? Those two younger women, behind, are her 
 nieces.'* The two girls referred to, though not beyond 
 question prcttj 7 , evidently made great claim to style ; 
 and, swimming in the wake of their majestic aunt, were 
 trying in their limited way to be swan-like also. 
 
 Mrs. Deering exchanged a smile and a bow with the 
 group ; but as they passed away again, she said to Oli- 
 phaut, " That woman is what I call a social usurper. 
 Slid came here years ago and tried to impose herself 
 on the world by a coup d'etat. There was a bitter re 
 sistance, but slowly and surely she has borne it down, 
 and seems to be settled on her throne." 
 
 "And Sweetser?" asked Oliphant, mildly amused. 
 " What about him ?" 
 
 " Oh, he's good style: good family, and all that; 
 but principally he's a sentimental old beau. He di 
 vides his time between organizing societies for Pro 
 moting the Importance of Members, and falling in 
 love. He will pass through half a dozen rhapsodical 
 affairs, this summer. Poor Dana ! " 
 
 She had barely finished speaking when they observed 
 a slender young man, with a single eye-glass and a 
 long coat, who stiffly carried a thin stick, approaching 
 them from the racket-court. Just as he came opposite 
 them, a white ball bounding from the tennis-ground
 
 10 NEWPORT. 
 
 flew towards him, at an angle threatening mischief to 
 his tall hat. He dodged it, and it struck the sward 
 near enough to bounce again in the direction of Mary 
 Deering. The slender young man darted vainly for 
 ward, to arrest this perplexing missile before it should 
 reach her ; but though he bent down with commenda 
 ble promptness, it escaped him and grazed her chair. 
 At the same instant he found himself landing on one 
 knee, to avoid a fall, and gazing anxiously towards 
 her. He took off his hat. 
 
 ' ' Attitude of devotion ! " he exclaimed in a sub 
 dued voice, with what was meant to pass for well-regu 
 lated humor. Even in these few words, however, he 
 contrived to let his perfected English accent manifest 
 itself. "Good morning, Mrs. Deering," he added, 
 more formally, straightening himself up again. 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Atlee." She made the two 
 men acquainted, briefly. "You couldn't have done 
 that better if you'd been on the stage," she said. 
 
 "It hardly counts in the game, I suppose," said 
 Oliphant, picking up the grass-stained ball, which he 
 threw to the players. 
 
 Atlee looked at him through his glass, as if he hardly 
 knew how this remark was designed ; then he turned 
 the polished disc inquiringly on Mrs. Deering, who 
 smiled with mysterious satisfaction. "Well, no," he 
 said haltingly. "I suppose, Mrs. Deering," he recom 
 menced, "you are coming to the Casino dance, to 
 night. On se donne le mot, you know. Monday is to 
 be the night, regularly." 
 
 " That will be bad for the ladies who ride, when the
 
 " FOE TY LOVE." 11 
 
 meets begin," said she. "But, of course, I shall 
 come to-night." 
 
 Oliphant had given up dancing, and looked upon the 
 artificial fox-hunt with contempt ; so he began to feel 
 out of place, and to wish that Atlee would go away. 
 But as the young man did not vanish, our friend 
 adopted the simple expedient of considering him an 
 inferior individual, and withdrew from the conversa 
 tion, fixing his attention entirely on the tennis. He 
 became oblivious to every thing but the cries of the 
 players: " Net !" " Fault." " Thirty, love." - 
 "Deuce." At length these annoyed him, too. "Do 
 you understand the game, Mr. Atlee? " he asked. 
 
 "Oh, a trifle," said the young man. "Must do 
 what all the other fools do, you know." 
 
 " Naturally," returned Oliphant, with zest. 
 
 "Is that the reason you asked him?" Mrs. Deer- 
 ing inquired of her cousin, darting mischief at Atlee. 
 " How clever, when you haven't known him ! " 
 
 "That's hard," feebly protested her admirer. 
 " "Well, you see," he continued, addressing Oliphant 
 with the comprehensiveness of an amateur lecturer, 
 " there are four courts, and one man serves, and " 
 
 " Oh, I don't want a regular exposition," Oliphant 
 interrupted, having reached an advanced stage of un 
 reason. " But it would be a relief if you would tell 
 me what their sentimental phrase ' love ' means." 
 
 "That's very easy," Atlee said. "It's only a 
 gentle way of saying that one side hasn't won any 
 thing whatever." 
 
 " Then, according to this computation, love is iioth 
 ing."
 
 12 NEWPORT. 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 ' ' How appropriate ! I think better of the game : 
 there must be some sense in it." 
 
 "Eugene!" cried Mrs. Deering, in reproof. "I 
 thought I had got you nicely chained up. What do 
 you mean by breaking loose again, and barking like 
 that? Mr. Atlee, my cousin is a cynic." 
 
 Thus admonished, Atlee examined him cauticnsly 
 with his defensive eye-glass. 
 
 "None o'f the other people are sitting down," said 
 Oliphant. "Don't you think we'd better be getting 
 away from here ? ' ' 
 
 " Fort}'' love. Game," muttered Atlee, who had 
 again diverted his superb attention to the nearest pair 
 of batters. "That's total defeat, you know," he 
 volunteered for Oliphant's benefit. 
 
 Eugene could not help applying this phraseology of 
 the game to his own case. His cousin had, that morn 
 ing, expatiated to him on the happiness of some friends 
 of hers who had married in middle life ; and within a 
 few moments she had questioned him as to his own 
 age. But love and forty made a bad combination iu 
 tennis, as they might also in a human career ; a com 
 bination involving absolute failure on one side. 
 
 "We may as well go up on to the balcony, if you 
 want to move," Mrs. Deering said, obligingly; and 
 they all three started in that direction. 
 
 The latticed promenade, when they reached it, was 
 crowded, and echoed to a light buzz of rapid talk, 
 salutation, and correct laughter, as if it had been a 
 drawing-room. They paced up and down its length
 
 "FORTY LOVE." 13 
 
 for a few minutes ; Oliphant noticing that the space 
 nearer the music was tacitly left to those who were not 
 of the governing social league ; persons of unfashion 
 able appearance, many of them passing visitors, who 
 gazed over at the others from a chilly border-land of 
 solitude, as it were, and appeared to be taking the 
 spectacle with a good deal of seriousness, an air of 
 mute and mournful inquiry. Atlee slipped .away to 
 speak to a young lady at one side of the gallery : 
 ' ; Vivian Ware," Mrs. Deering specified to her com 
 panion. " A charming girl, from Boston. I want you 
 to know her, too." 
 
 Beyond doubt, Miss Ware was a most engaging crea 
 ture, even on a casual glance. She stood by one of 
 the turned posts that upheld the gallery-ceiling, lean 
 ing slightly against it and surrounded by several young 
 men, "That is the Count Fitz-Stuart nearest to her," 
 Oliphant heard his feminine mentor saying, so that 
 she might have been figured as at bay, making a final 
 stand against her pursuers. But the situation evi 
 dently did not disturb her. Slight without suggesting 
 fragility, she showed decided calm and self-possession, 
 but was radiant with expression, and was talking first 
 to one and then to another. Oliphaut not being devoid 
 of imagination, it occurred to him that, in her pure 
 white dress wrought with a perfection of skill that 
 made it resemble a natural growth, she might well be 
 compared to a fresh honeysuckle blossom. 
 
 "I should like to know her," he said; "but not 
 now. For a while I will just look." 
 
 "There'll be plenty of time," his pretty cousin
 
 14 NEWPORT. 
 
 agreed. "You're like a man who has been starving, 
 and I must be careful with you ; too much at once 
 might be your death." 
 
 The next instant she was accosted by Mr. Dana 
 Sweetser, who, of a shapely figure, had a light but 
 aged mustache that lay like a withered leaf above his 
 lips and brushed his cheeks, the pink of which was 
 forcing itself out of season. He wore a salmon-tinted 
 sirocco neck-scarf, and apparently was brimming over 
 with compliments. 
 
 " A most lovely morning, Mrs. Deering," he ex 
 claimed, poising himself artfully on his thin legs, that 
 terminated in narrow shoes adorned with buff gaiters. 
 "And I assure you one sees it better when it is re 
 flected in a lovely face." 
 
 " That's a new sort of barometer," said she, " but 
 not hard to find, here ; " and she glanced around. 
 
 "Happy to make your acquaintance," Sweetser pro 
 ceeded as elastically as before, on being presented to 
 Oliphant. " And you have lately arrived? Ah, New 
 port is the gem of all our watering-places. You will 
 find yourself unable to leave it, Mr. Oliphant. Are 
 you not already charmed? " 
 
 " I'm trying to be," replied Oliphant ; " and I dare 
 say, if I'm not it won't- be the fault of the place." 
 
 "You have only to look about you, sir. The most 
 delightful society people of leisure and cultivation, 
 assembled from the different cities that separate them 
 in winter : Newport claims them all, you see, by natu 
 ral right. I was about to tell you something, Mrs. 
 Deering," he pursued, turning to her; and Oliphaut 
 seized the occasion to move apart.
 
 "FORTY LOVE." 15 
 
 He had not gone many steps, before he was arrested 
 by the sight of a face that he faneied was familiar to 
 him. It offered a surface epitome of character not 
 distinguished for refinement, but rather forcible than 
 coarse, in spite of a rough-grained complexion and the 
 aggressive bushiness of brown whiskers and a biforked 
 beard. The man was dressed in a blue flannel yacht 
 ing suit, as if he disdained making much concession to 
 the custom of elaborate toilets. Nevertheless, it was 
 clear that he stood well in the estimation of those 
 around him. He bore signs of mental power, and pos 
 sessed a cool, ample e3 T e that took in every thing with 
 undisturbed comprehensiveness. We might say it was 
 a peculiarly noiseless eye. Indeed, Oliphant-was per 
 suaded that it had encompassed him, as it were, and 
 had fully identified him, an instant or two before any 
 light of recognition was allowed to flash out. But 
 when that preliminary was over, the face became ener 
 getic with geniality, and the individual to whom it be 
 longed stepped forward with hand outstretched. 
 
 " My dear fellow ! " said he, in a hearty, melodious 
 voice that carried conviction with it. " How do you 
 do ; and where did you drop from? " 
 
 " I thought it was you, Porter," Oliphant responded, 
 oddly feeling that his own heartiness, though he knew 
 it to be genuine, was a mere make-believe or shadow 
 beside the other man's; "but it's such a length of 
 time. ... I was rather hesitating." 
 
 "As the Irishman said," Porter at once rejoined, 
 "when they asked him whether, as a punishment for 
 his crime, he would prefer to go to the gallows oi
 
 16 NEWPORT. 
 
 Australia. He told 'em, you know, he would 'rather 
 hesitate.' Well, where have you been? Tell me all 
 about it? What's the news? " 
 
 They began to walk the gallery at the least crowded 
 end, with occasional inroads upon the more fashion 
 able one. It was not a place for clapping a man upon 
 the back ; and, for all his force, Porter's manner was 
 perfectly in keeping with the genius of the spot. But 
 Oliphant felt that practically he had been clapped 
 upon the back, and rather liked it: he began to be 
 more at home. He noticed, also, as they passed and 
 repassed, that those who had previously been talking 
 with Porter were now examining himself with an ac 
 cess of interest merging into respect, as they saw the 
 friendly terms on which he stood with the wearer of 
 the blue suit. This roused in Oliphaut an internal 
 laughter ; but it was agreeable to find that, while still 
 unknown, he could thus enjoy an indirect homage. 
 " I have my foot on the stair," he said to himself. 
 
 Meanwhile, two gentlemen who sat together in the 
 shadow, not far from the musicians, fixed their atten 
 tion on the pair as they receded in their walk. 
 
 " Quisbrough," said one of these individuals, 
 grave, elderly, clad throughout in black and wearing 
 the long-skirted broadcloth of a departing generation, 
 " isn't that man Porter? Horatio Porter, I mean ; 
 commonly known as Raish." 
 
 The speaker had a pale, smooth-shaven face, seamed 
 with fine wrinkles arranged on a system which implied 
 in equal measure a great store of legal acumen and 
 much experience of dyspepsia.
 
 "FORTY LOVE." 17 
 
 " Yes ; that's Raish," replied Quisbrough. " But I 
 thought you knew him, Judge : thought everybody 
 knew him, and that you knew everybody." 
 
 "Well, you've hit it pretty close," the Judge an 
 swered, with a grim smile, restrained by habit. "Of 
 course I know of him. A case in which he had an 
 interest came before me, in fact. But he didn't ap 
 pear but once, and I haven't seen him since. I'm not 
 a brilliant financier, and I'm not a yachtsman, and 
 I'm not a half society man, either ; so our lines hardly 
 cross. He certainly is going ahead remarkably, is 
 Raish. What do you think of him?" In saying this, 
 he turned his eyes wdrily towards Quisbrough. 
 
 "I've hardly formed an opinion," said the latter, 
 poking one finger meditatively into the side of his 
 thick, black beard. " He's a friend of old Thor- 
 burn's, you know." 
 
 "I see; I see," murmured the old gentleman. 
 "Friend of young Thorburn's, too?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes," said Quisbrough, still prodding his beard. 
 And they began talking of something else. 
 
 "Oh yes, I know the old fellow," Porter was saying 
 at the same moment, in answer to a question from 
 Oliphant. "It's Judge Malachi Hixon, of New York ; 
 one of the old school. I admire him as one of the few 
 incorruptible men on the bench ; but we have no per 
 sonal acquaintance. The little man at his side is a 
 queer fish ; he used to be tutor to Perry Thorburn, but 
 has burst the chrysalis, I believe, and become privalo 
 secretary to Thorburn senior." Here Porter nodded 
 informally to Judge Hixon's neighbor, whose glance
 
 18 NEWPORT. 
 
 just then met his. " Name's Quisbrough," he contin 
 ued as they turned their backs and walked away once 
 more, " and he's as odd as his name. You probably 
 think he looks dull, so he does, always has that 
 fagged, sleepy air. But bless you, that's no more 
 than the blur 3 T ou make on good steel, by breathing. 
 I tell you he's sharp ; sharp as a razor." 
 
 "I begin to feel interested in these people," said 
 Oliphant. " Somehow it is different here from other 
 places in America : in the others, everybody is in such 
 a hurry, that you need an instantaneous photograph to 
 show you what they are like. They run about so." 
 
 " Exactly," threw in Porter. " You have heard of 
 the darkey, haven't you, who found it so hard to make 
 out how many hens he had. He got along very well 
 with counting them all except one ; and that one ran 
 round so, he couldn't count it. That's the way with 
 American society." 
 
 Oliphant laughed heartily. "Very likely," he said. 
 "But here in Newport they have more repose: per 
 haps it's due to the drowsy, peaceful atmosphere." 
 
 "Isle of Peace, you know," rejoined his friend: 
 " that's what the Indian name, Aquidneck, means. 
 The 'ile of peace is very emollient ; you try it, and 
 see. This all leads back to what I was saying that 
 you'd better come and bunk with me at my cottage, 
 and settle down for a good season of it. Yes, sir, 
 you'll find the genuine leisure class here. Talk about 
 our having none ! Do you remember what one of our 
 bright girls said to the Englishman who complained 
 that there were no people of leisure in this country
 
 "FORTY LOVE." 19 
 
 people who don't do any thing? ' Oh yes,' she said, 
 ' we have those people, but here we call them tramps." 
 I assure you, the kind of tramps you meet in this place 
 are worth knowing." 
 
 " I've a great mind," said Oliphant with slow frauk- 
 nessj " to accept your invitation. Nothing could be 
 better, if we can both keep our independence." 
 
 " My dear fellow, I shall insist upon keeping mine ; 
 and that leaves you to take care of yourself." 
 
 "That's fair, at any rate," the widower agreed. 
 " But, oh ! " he added, slightly blushing " it seems 
 funny to ask you haven't, in the interval, gone and 
 got married, have you? " 
 
 "Not I," answered Porter with decision. "Mar 
 riage has its good side ; but you make me think of a 
 man I heard of, who got alarmed about an earthquake 
 that was to visit his city ; so he sent off his two sons 
 to a country clergyman, to keep them safe, any way. 
 "Well, after two or three days, the parson, finding the 
 boys lively, wrote to him : ' Please take back your 
 boys, and send on the earthquake.' None of that in 
 mine, thank you ! Now tell me when you will come 
 over to the house." 
 
 " To-morrow, if that suits you. I must go and look 
 after Mrs. Deering, now." 
 
 "All right; but can't you join me, later? There 
 are some men here you ought to know, and they're 
 going to lunch with me at one. Will you take a plate 
 with us?" 
 
 "Thanks: if I can." 
 
 Hereupon they separated ; and Eugene, finding that
 
 20 NEWPORT. 
 
 Mrs. Deering was ready to go, extricated her from a 
 knot of acquaintances, and escorted her to the spacious 
 arched passage that gives entrance to the grounds. 
 As they drew near the point of emergence on Bellevue 
 Avenue, a high, polished gig stopped at the curb, and 
 the young man who had been driving dismounted with 
 alacrity. 
 
 "Perry Thorburn ! " Mrs. Deering whispered, im 
 pressively. 
 
 As the youth over whom she cast the glamor of that 
 opulent name stood for a moment on the sidewalk, 
 giving some direction to his groom, Oliphant beheld 
 him framed in the archway, with the glare of the outer 
 light upon him. He was a talj, sinewy young fellow, 
 clad in a combination of gray cut with supreme styl 
 ishness, that set off his red-tanned face, his long neck 
 and amber-colored hair, in remarkable contrast. His 
 figure, from the great length of the arms and legs, 
 would have been ungainly but for the commanding 
 pose habitual with him. He was not handsome, but 
 neither was he bad-looking ; and here again the only 
 half-successful contour of his features was made re 
 spectable by the haughty vigor that informed them. 
 Thus much Oliphant was able to observe while } 7 oung 
 Thorburn stood on the pavement, and as he passed 
 them on his way in, with long strides. 
 
 "So that's the heir of his father, is it?" said 
 Eugene. "He looks as if he could spend the money, 
 and if his energies happened to strike in, he might 
 make it, too. You don't know him, I see, personally." 
 
 " Dear me, no," said Mrs. Deoring. " Confiden-
 
 "FORTY LOVE." 21 
 
 tially, yon understand, he is way beyond us ; though I 
 fancy his father buys and sells in Roger's office a good 
 deal. Perhaps I ought to say he is not ' of our set.' 
 I draw the line at the Thorburns, chiefly because I 
 can't draw them inside of it." 
 
 Then, begging her cousin to come and dine with her 
 that evening, she nodded, got into her village-cart, and 
 drove away. 
 
 It was with unusual exhilaration that he returned to 
 the cheerful precinct he had just left. The meeting 
 with Porter had enlivened him ; a new zest was making 
 its way into his veins. People were now beginning to 
 leave the spot, and strayed by twos and threes past 
 the rich grass-plots, the beds of diversified coleas, and 
 the heavy stone base of the Clock-Tower ; and Oli- 
 phant gazed with satisfaction at the fresh, happy faces 
 of the young women amongst them. On gaining the 
 balcony, which was still dotted with scraps of vivid 
 color in the bright morning dresses, and the parasols 
 of "crushed raspberry" that lingered, he at once 
 caught sight of Perry Thorburn, who was just then 
 passing Quisbrough. Perry gave the latter no sort 
 of recognition ; a fact which the tutor-secretary took 
 without concern ; and, going on farther, was speedily 
 absorbed in conversation with a lady of very striking 
 appearance, in black and yellow, who was obviously 
 much older than he. 
 
 I doubt whether Oliphant could have told why, but 
 the sight of the arrogant, attractive young millionaire 
 leaning over and talking with unconcealed earnestness 
 to this handsome woman whom our friend himself did
 
 22 NEWPORT. 
 
 not know, roused in him a blind protest ; and forthwith 
 the whole scene before him underwent a change. A 
 moment earlier, it had been agreeably sparkling and 
 satisfactory ; now, on the contrary, it became shallow, 
 insincere, and hollow. " They're all on exhibition," 
 he murmured to himself. " It's like the opening scene 
 of a comedy. Bell rings ; curtain is up beginning 
 of the season. In they come, actors and audience ; 
 and every one seems to say, ' I'm still on the surface, 
 you see, and I'm as fine as you are. What next?' 
 Bah ! " 
 
 Taking out his watch, he discovered that it was a 
 quarter after one ; and while he was closing it he heard 
 Porter saying : " Ah, there you are, Oliphant ! We are 
 just going to lunch." 
 
 As they passed up-stairs, Oliphant seemed to hear a 
 voice repeating, " Forty love ; forty love ! "
 
 n. 
 
 THE LIFE OF A LETTER. 
 
 THE lunch was a pleasant affair, and Porter exhib 
 ited himself in a light which brought out his ver 
 satile capacity. 
 
 Besides himself and his prospective visitor, there 
 were present Atlee and Perry Thorburn ; Stillman 
 Ware of Boston (brother of the young lady Oliphant 
 had seen on the balcony) ; one Admiral Gliues of the 
 navy ; a retired major in the regular arm}* named Bot- 
 tick, who seemed to consist chiefly of big, red, bald 
 cranium and iron-gray mustache ; and finally a college 
 professor of great scientific repute, who hid his celeb 
 rity under a reddish beard, an excellent double- 
 breasted coat, and (on entering the room) a tall white 
 hat, which made him look like a rather solid butterfly 
 of fashion. 
 
 With these personages Porter conversed in a way 
 which showed that he was master of their various inter 
 ests ; or could at least convince them that he was. To 
 Glines he talked about torpedoes and the decline of 
 the navy ; to Major Bottick, of the war in Egypt, varied 
 by ancient club-gossip redolent of stale tobacco smoke. 
 Thorburn he engaged on matters connected with polo 
 
 23
 
 24 NEWPORT. 
 
 and yachting ; the length of water-line in different 
 boats ; their owners, cost, and vicissitudes in sundry 
 races. With Ware, again, he deftly assumed the cul 
 tivated tone, mingling society and house-decoration 
 with data about rare editions of books. 
 
 As they took their places, "You know," he said, 
 quoting from some dead-and-gone society verse, " ' Vi- 
 tellius's feasts cost a million ; ' but I'm not Vitellius, 
 and I intend giving you to-day only the last two or 
 three figures of that amount." 
 
 Nevertheless, so far as it went the repast was deli 
 cious, and every one was pleased. Even young Thor- 
 burn was mollified into laying aside his unnecessary 
 hauteur, under the influence of a particular clarei 
 called Lagrange, which Porter recommended, and of a 
 cigar rather better than those which the young man 
 usually bought for himself. To inhale his entertainer's 
 lavishness in this way was an enjoyment heightened 
 by the sense of his own superior prudence. Oliphant 
 being placed next to him, they naturally fell into 
 talk ; and when the party was breaking up, they again 
 found themselves side by side at one of the windows 
 giving on the Avenue. 
 
 " There isn't much driving yet, I suppose," half 
 inquired Eugene. 
 
 " Oh, it's beginning," answered the other, careless 
 ly. " I believe there won't be so much as there used 
 to be. At any rate, the people who used to drive don't 
 do it so much now, I'm told." 
 
 "The set changes, then," said Eugene. ''A new 
 dynasty is that it? "
 
 THE LIFE OF A LETTER. 25 
 
 Thorburn laughed : he was pleased with the phrase. 
 " If you like to call it so," he said. "I'm one of 'em, 
 whatever it is. / drive. Later in the afternoon's the 
 hour, you know." 
 
 "This isn't your first season here, is it? " Eugene 
 asked. 
 
 " "Well, yes, really it is," the 3 r oung man conceded. 
 He betrayed some hesitation, however, as if to admit 
 the fact reminded him uncomfortably of his youth and 
 newness. " Father only built his house here last fall, 
 you know." 
 
 Oliphant liked him the better for showing so easily 
 what he felt ; and began to think that this young fel 
 low's lofty mode of carrying himself did him injustice. 
 Then suddenly came back the recollection of that scene 
 on the balcony, where the sight of Thorburn and the 
 lad} 7 in black and yellow had affected him so curiously ; 
 and he was taken with a desire to ask who she was. 
 But this of course could not be done, and he had be 
 sides, as he thought, asked questions enough. 
 
 Just at this moment they heard a peculiar sharp 
 jingling in the street, which attracted their attention. 
 Perry looked out rather eagerly, Oliphant thought, 
 as if he had been waiting for the sound, or at least 
 recognized it ; and as Oliphaut's own eyes turned in 
 the same direction, there passed swiftly by a light 
 barouche, properly manned with a liveried driver and 
 groom, and drawn by small, strong horses, bearing at 
 the front of their harness a close-linked steel chain, 
 that churned forth with rapid motion the metallic signal 
 which the two men had heard. In the carriage was
 
 26 NEWPORT. 
 
 seated the identical lady who had just been occupying 
 Oliphant's thoughts. She was of small but not di 
 minutive figure ; in a certain way beautiful, or per 
 haps I ought to say fine, without having much color in 
 her cheeks or any splendor of physical endowment that 
 lit once overpowered the eye ; above all, she gave an 
 impression of delicate energy, of a something unusual 
 without being obtrusive, and of compact completeness. 
 This it was which made her appearance striking, as I 
 have said it was, when Oliphant had first seen her. 
 She still wore her dress of black, sparingly touched 
 with yellow in one or two places, and a small black 
 bonnet in which a single narrow golden band likewise 
 appeared. Whether she saw the two gentlemen who 
 were looking at her, I cannot say. She was out of 
 sight again, in a flash ; gone like some wonderful kind 
 of bird that had been startled out of her covert and 
 had taken a quick flight into other shelter. That was 
 the effect on Oliphant : the carriage and pair dis 
 solved, as it were, and he could think of nothing, for 
 an instant, except the sable form and the dash of gold 
 that had swept by him. 
 
 " Who is that lady? " he now asked, easily enough. 
 " I've noticed her before." As he spoke, the jangling 
 of the horses' chain was still heard faintly, and chimed 
 in with an emphasis bizarre and semi-barbaric. 
 
 "A Mrs. Gifford," said Thorburn. "Very much 
 of a favorite here, and deserves it, too. She's a bright 
 woman." 
 
 u Ah, she's married," Oliphant rejoined, reflect 
 ively. " 1 had an idea she was in mourning."
 
 THE LIFE OF A LETTER. 27 
 
 " Mourning? I should smile ! Not exactly. Didn't 
 you see the yellow in her dress? " 
 
 "Yes, yes; so there was. I noticed it especially, 
 too." And Oliphaut was surprised to find that the 
 black garb, and perhaps something in the general ap 
 pearance of the wearer, had neutralized the meaning of 
 that vivid color. 
 
 " She's a widow, though," added Thorburn, as if he 
 had enjoyed holding the fact in reserve. 
 
 "Oh," said Eugene, a little coolly, beginning to 
 move away. He was not quite pleased with himself, 
 on finding that this information revived his interest. 
 " From New York? " he inquired. 
 
 " No ; Baltimore. She spends part of the winter in 
 Washington, and comes here in the summer." 
 
 Oli pliant now went back to Porter ; they all took 
 their hats for departure ; and he was soon on his way 
 to his hotel, alone. The rest of the afternoon was 
 occupied with sundry idle employments, during which 
 he gave little thought to the various persons who had 
 come into his field of experience since the morning ; 
 but he was destined to hear more of Mrs. Gifford, and 
 to make a discovery which should give her a fixed and 
 unique place in his reflections. 
 
 Putting on his evening dress, he proceeded to his 
 cousin's, and there met Atlee, who was to dine with 
 them: For some cause, the presence of this young 
 man was by no means pleasant to Oliphant : he won 
 dered whether llogcr Dcering were aware how it looked, 
 that his wife should be accepting Atlee's devotion. 
 True, it was the devotion of an image, a stuffed doll.
 
 28 NEWPORT. 
 
 But possibly, if Roger had to choose, he would pre 
 fer to have the appearance of a fashionable flirtation 
 sustained by something of more dignity than a doll. 
 Atlee was in the small parlor with Mrs. Dcering and 
 her two children, a boy of eleven, and a little daugh 
 ter scarcely three ; they made a very domestic group. 
 
 "And how do you like Newport, Clarence?" Eu 
 gene asked the boy, assuming a cousinly air. 
 
 "First rate," said Clarence, with his hands in his 
 pockets. " I want to go to the Casino hop to-night." 
 
 " What, you? " inquired his mature friend, in aston 
 ishment. " You're too young." 
 
 "No I ain't, either," declared the boy. "Every 
 body goes ; but the best people take the lead. I've 
 heard 'em say that. Ain't we the bust? " 
 
 " Clarence," said his mother, " you mustn't talk in 
 that way." 
 
 " Well, I don't care," he remarked. " I know what 
 the} 7 want is young people, to dance. I know how to 
 dance : haven't I been to dancing-school ? If papa 
 was here, he'd let me go. Now Mr. Oliphant, you 
 tell mamma to let me. Mr. Atlee ain't any good that 
 way, for all he comes here so much." 
 
 " Clarence," his mother repeated, " I'm ashamed of 
 you ! If you go on so, I shan't let you come in to 
 dessert." 
 
 Atlee, who was some six feet distant from the ob 
 ject of disturbance, affixed his eye-glass, and regarded 
 Clarence painfully ; while the boy, in spite of his val 
 iant altitude, gave symptoms of crying. 
 
 " Come here," said Eugene, engagingly. "I've got
 
 THE LIFE OF A LETTER. 29 
 
 something to show you." lie had, in fact, provided 
 himself with a little present. It was an ivory puzzle- 
 box, of such dimensions that it could be carried on the 
 watch-chain which he had noticed that his young 
 cousin wore. Clarence was at first much interested, 
 but Oliphant soon perceived that he had miscalculated 
 the precocious child's capacit} 7 . " Watch-chains ain't 
 in fashion now, you know," Clarence confided to him in 
 undertone. "They wear fobs. Hullo," he contin 
 ued, examining Oliphant's waistcoat, "you haven't 
 got any fob ! Why, Steve Richards has got one, and 
 he ain't any bigger than I am ; and he's got lots of 
 other things, too. He's got a toy engine, and a real 
 rifle, and a bicycle, and I don't see why it is! 
 We're just as good as the others, but some fellow 
 always has more things than I do." 
 
 Oliphant was amused, and slightly disgusted ; but 
 just at that juncture, dinner was announced, and the 
 children were dismissed. Yet even in the brief moment 
 of their leave-taking Mrs. Deering's preference for her 
 little daughter Effle was plainly revealed : she detached 
 herself from the clinging baby arms and the gold-haired 
 face, with a tender, pathetic reluctance. 
 
 At the table, some allusion was made to young 
 Thorburn, and Oliphant was prompted to say, ''IJy 
 the way, he seems to be a good deal interested in that 
 Mrs. Gifford whom I saw at the Casino this morning. 
 Do you know her? " 
 
 " Oh. yes." said Mary Deering, "I know her. But 
 I don't think young Mr. Thorb urn's interest lies espe 
 cially in that direction."
 
 30 NEWPORT. 
 
 " Is that because you know that it takes some other 
 direction?" he asked. 
 
 "I can't say positively," his cousin answered. 
 " But it's generally supposed that, if he has any incli 
 nation of that sort, it is towards Miss Hobart, of New 
 York, you know ; Josephine Hobart. You haven't 
 seen her, have you? Well, she's quite the accepted 
 belle, at home ; though, for particular reasons, she 
 doesn't flourish so much here at Newport. Don't you 
 think I'm right about Perry Thorburn and Josephine, 
 Mr. Atlee?" 
 
 The young man appealed to gave an exceedingly 
 slow and eminently Britannic assent. 
 
 Eugene, however, was hardly convinced. " There 
 is something familiar," he resumed, "about that name 
 of Gifford. It's not uncommon, of course ; but it's 
 really a New England name. How does it happen 
 that she hails from Baltimore? " 
 
 " I believe," said Mrs. Deering, " that her husband 
 was a New Englander, and came from your region, 
 Eugene, not far from Springfield ; though when you 
 come to talk about families, it's quite absurd to ask 
 me. I have enough to do to look after my own, as I 
 guess you saw just before dinner. Still, I can tell you 
 this much, that he afterwards moved to Baltimore, 
 and that his first name was Helvetius. I can always 
 remember that." 
 
 "I should think you might!" exclaimed Atlee, 
 laying down his fork and allowing a subdued hilarity 
 to distend his mustache. " Helvetius ! " he repeated, 
 with condescension. " Most extrawd'n'ry name. I
 
 THE LIFE OF A LETTER. 31 
 
 should think you might! " His own name was Gusta- 
 vus, but he had gradually modified it to "Augustus," 
 and kept even that in the background except on occa 
 sions when he thought it would be effective. 
 
 "Well," said Oliphant, "I'm not much better off 
 than before. I can't ' place ' the name, as they say in 
 the country. And yet ' ' 
 
 In a fit of abstraction, he ceased 'to speak. "I 
 don't think your association with the name amounts 
 to any thing," Mrs. Deering asserted, with such a 
 determined closing of her lively lips that controversy 
 seemed hopeless. " But you may be sure, Eugene, of 
 one thing : Octavia Gifford is a woman perfectly con 
 tented as she is. She will never marry again." 
 
 " But if that's so," said Atlee, " why is it that she 
 doesn't wear mourning? " 
 
 "She doesn't, exactly, it's true," said their hostess. 
 "If you notice, though, you will see that she always 
 dresses in black or white, with just a little of one color 
 scattered in. And then," she continued, turning to 
 Oliphant, " I understand she has a theory that it is 
 not quite truthful to wear black entirely. The way 
 she looks at it is this : ' I'm happy, and I still enjoy 
 a great deal in life, so why should I pretend that I 
 don't, and shut myself up in a dark shroud ? ' But, 
 really, the reason she holds that opinion is that she 
 was so thoroughly happy in her married life." 
 
 "You're sure of that, are you?" inquired her 
 oousin. 
 
 "Perfectly. The woman isn't living who looks 
 more on the bright side, so far as that goes, than
 
 32 NEWPORT. 
 
 Octavia Gifford. Her existence has been so satisfac 
 tory to her that, in spite of her great loss, there is a 
 kind of radiance over every thing, in her eyes." 
 
 "Fortunate person," murmured Eugene; and then 
 other topics came up, which absorbed them until an 
 unexpected noise at the front door, just as salad was 
 being served, interrupted the conversation. 
 
 " There's Roger, I declare ! " exclaimed Mrs. Deer- 
 ing, at the sound, and she excused herself, to run out 
 and meet him. She came back, beaming more than 
 ever ; and Roger himself followed, active and semi- 
 preoccupied as usual, with a face that appeared habitu 
 ally red, either because of haste and heat, or good 
 living, and with hair cut excessively short for summer 
 comfort, from the nape of his neck to the edge of 
 baldness rather far back from his forehead. He did 
 not seem at all disturbed by Atlee's presence. 
 
 "How do? " he said cordially to both the visitors, 
 giving his hand to each in succession. "Found I 
 could get away all at once, as I was just explaining to 
 Mary. Things rather dull on the street and likely to 
 stay so the next few days, so I thought I'd run on. 
 Let's have some champagne, Mary." 
 
 The wine was sent for, and Clarence burst prema 
 turely into the room. "Oh papa!" he exclaimed; 
 and, after a hearty greeting between them: "May I 
 go to the hop ? ' ' 
 
 " Hop? No. On general principles, no. All hops 
 excluded except hop into bed. What party is it? " 
 Mrs. Deering explained. "Oh, go ahead, if you want 
 to," said the father easily. "Let him go and look
 
 THE LIFE OF A LETTER. 33 
 
 on, Mary. That's all you could do, you know, Clar 
 ence : you're too young to dance there. And you 
 don't catch me going. If you want to see me, you've 
 got to stay at home." 
 
 So the matter was compromised, finally, by the 
 boy's receiving a glass of champagne and water, and 
 remaining with Deering. "I'll look after him," said 
 the latter good-humoredly, to his wife, " if Atlee and. 
 Eugene will look after you." 
 
 Oliphaut's vague uneasiness about Atlee had been 
 partially allayed by Roger's sudden arrival ; now he 
 was again made uncomfortable by the prospect of 
 taking Mrs. Deering away for an evening of super 
 fluous diversion, just at the instant of her husband's 
 return. But as they chatted and smoked over their 
 coffee, while Mrs. Deering made some preparation for 
 the dance, he consoled himself with the reflection that 
 it was foolish to apply his own secluded standard of 
 conduct, which had never brought about much happi 
 ness in his case, to the affairs of the sophisticated 
 circle in which he now stood. 
 
 Meanwhile the Casino theatre had been lighted up, 
 and people were slowly assembling in the garnished 
 interior, where the white and gold of the walls and the 
 pale-blue silver-starred panels of the ceiling cast a 
 reflected brilliancy upon the polished floor. The first- 
 comers were of a staid and sober sort, chiefly in dark- 
 hued habiliments ; and they collected in the gallery, or 
 seated themselves in the remotest chairs near the lower 
 entrances, with a solemn and expectant hush, very 
 much as if they had arrived at church a long time
 
 34 NEWPORT. 
 
 before service. They were simply spectators, and 
 those who were to furnish the spectacle did not strag 
 gle in until after nine. Among these were Mrs. Farley 
 Blazer, Miss Ware and her brother, and young Lord 
 Ilawkstane, whom it was supposed that Mrs. Blazer 
 intended to marry to one of her nieces, after he should 
 have had time enough to think he had made up his 
 own mind about it. It was of Lord Ilawkstane that 
 the Weekly Eavesdropper had said : " His gentle 
 manly manner has won him troops of friends;" and 
 in the next paragraph it praised the gentlemanly head- 
 waiter at the Ocean House. Besides these, a member 
 of the cabinet, with his wife and daughters, made his 
 appearance ; and a foreign minister as well as a couple 
 of attache's of legation from Washington were pointed 
 out to the solemn people in the galleries, by the more 
 knowing of their associates. Some looked anxiously 
 for Count Fitz-Stuart, of whom they had heard as 
 " the last of the Stuarts ; " but he was not seen that 
 evening, reserving himself under some mysterious 
 sense of fitness, with which the half-dollar admission 
 may have had something to do. Mrs. Thorburn came, 
 bringing a judiciously small selection of diamonds. 
 There were other men and women who brought their 
 family names names of a certain antiquity in Boston 
 or New York, that gave them a distinction, an im 
 perceptible halo, which the unfortunate on-lookers who 
 did not know them entirely missed seeing. It was on 
 the whole an agreeable, informal company, differing 
 little from the average of cultivated persons else 
 where ; notwithstanding which a local paper, the next
 
 THE LIFE OF A LETTER. 35 
 
 day, lifting the trump of vulgar fame, declared that 
 " the elite was in force, America's best society people 
 being represented by Us fairest ladies and wealthiest 
 citizens." 
 
 When Oliphant came in, he met Dana Sweetser hov 
 ering about with a ravished expression of countenance. 
 
 " It is simply delightful," said Mr. Sweetser. " You 
 see so many charming friends, with no encumbering ob 
 ligation. And the beauty ! Where can you find at 
 hazard so many attractive women as you see around 
 this room ? " As Atlee had assumed the duty of find 
 ing Mrs. Deering a chair, the gay old bachelor began 
 pointing out to Eugene the persons whom he ought to 
 observe. "But our quota is not yet full," he wound 
 up. " Before the season is over we expect to draw an 
 Italian Count, a Russian Prince, and " 
 
 " No crowned heads this year? " Oliphant put in. 
 
 Sweetser turned upon him a faded reproach, which 
 made him regret his jest. " However, that's not so 
 impossible in the future," resumed the ancient Dana, 
 agile in the recovery of good-humor. " The throne 
 business is so uncertain, nowadays. There's some 
 thing better than a crowned head to be seen to-night, 
 though. Josephine Hobart is here." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 "Yes; she has got away from her dreadful old 
 father and is visiting friends in town. Enviable 
 friends!" 
 
 " I'm sorry to say I've never seen her," Oliphant re 
 marked. 
 
 Mr. Sweetser looked woe-begone. " My dear sir,
 
 36 NEWPORT. 
 
 you don't know what you've missed ! Let me present 
 you." 
 
 This offer Eugene contrived to evade, preferring 
 some other approach. Before long he discovered his 
 cousin sitting next to Mrs. Gifford, and was thus pre 
 cipitated into a speaking acquaintance with the widow. 
 
 "Have you ever been in Springfield ?" he asked, 
 after a few preliminary nothings. 
 
 "No," she said. "But how odd that you should 
 happen to ask ! Is that your home? " 
 
 "Yes. At least, it was; but I have wandered so 
 much, I can hardly call it that any more. I have been 
 abroad, the last three years." 
 
 "Mr. Gifford lived there," said the widow, in the 
 most composed and cheerful way. ' ' But he had en 
 tirely moved his interests to Baltimore, before our mar 
 riage, and so I never chanced to go to Springfield. Is 
 it a pretty place? " 
 
 " 'Prettily placed' would describe it better," Oli- 
 phant said. But he was thinking that, placid though 
 she was, a certain change had passed over her like 
 the shadow of a sunny cloud when she named her 
 husband. There was a finer light in her eye, just for 
 an instant : she looked as if she had been thrilled 
 through with a proud memory, yet one that brought 
 with it a pang. " And you were of Baltimore your 
 self," he went on. " I know some people there." So 
 they began to make note of their acquaintances, as 
 persons must who have little knowledge of each other. 
 
 What they said came fitfully ; slender trains of words 
 breaking off suddenly, between which the soft notes of
 
 TILE LIFE OF A LETTER. 37 
 
 the orchestra swept upon them in delicate waves. 
 Then Mrs. Deering would help them on with a laugh 
 ing remark ; and Oliphant began again. To complete 
 his discouragement, Perry Thorburn strode up, even 
 more overtopping in his dress-coat than he had been 
 that morning, and asked for a dance with Mrs. Gif- 
 ford, which she granted. At the same moment Mrs. 
 Deering began to waltz with Atlee, and Eugene was 
 left alone. He watched the swift but gentle whirl of 
 the dancers. For a moment every thing before him 
 melted into a tremulous, insubstantial glow ; a confu 
 sion of gold and white and gaslight and rhythmic mo 
 tion. It was strange to be in such a spot, with such 
 companionship, while his thoughts were straying off to 
 guess at the happiness so confidently asserted of Mrs. 
 G iff ord's past, and to ask whether she had given any 
 more for it than he had devoted without getting a like 
 return. What was the secret of these fates? It re 
 minded him of little Clarence's problem in the distri 
 bution of toys ; but the question went on recurring like 
 the throb of an endless trouble, a refrain to the lively 
 music now ringing in his ears. At last Mrs. Gifford 
 was beside him again, swept to her place by the breeze 
 of the waltz, which died away the next instant ; and 
 the room at once became a solid, bright interior full 
 of polished people ; no refrain of destiny audible any 
 where in it. 
 
 Perry Thorburn went on talking to the widow. Sud 
 denly, " I don't see Miss Ilobart," he said. 
 
 "That reminds me," Oliphant interposed, aeldress- 
 ing her. " Do you know Miss Ilobart? I have been
 
 38 NEWPORT. 
 
 so anxious to see her." He had begun to catch the 
 accent of the place. 
 
 Mrs. Gifford showed a new interest in him. " Know 
 her? Why, she's staying with me ! " 
 
 "As an invisible spirit? " he asked, glancing around. 
 
 "Luckily, no," was her answer, given with due 
 sparkle of appreciation for his little effort. "I don't 
 see her either, Perry," she continued, to Thorburn. 
 "I've lost her in the waltz. And you know," to Oli- 
 phant again, " when Josephine is lost, there are so 
 many to find her it's quite hopeless for me." 
 
 " Much more so, then, for me," Oliphant said. 
 
 The other two looked in various directions, and 
 finally descried Josephine at the end of the room where 
 she had stopped, with the music, and was detained by 
 a little group of admirers, among them Lord Hawk- 
 stane. 
 
 "I will go over there," said Thorburn abruptly, 
 after a parenthetical glare at Oliphant. 
 
 Eugene wondered if the young man claimed a mo 
 nopoly of both these ladies. 
 
 " It will be like Clever Alice," said Mrs. Gifford. 
 " Everybody who goes to find her will stay." 
 
 " I venture to predict that that won't happen in this 
 case," he returned, scattering over his remark a light 
 powder of gallantry which softened the contradiction. 
 
 " We shall see," the widow smiled. 
 
 Miss Hobart did in fact come back almost imme 
 diately, on Thorburn's arm ; and as Oliphant stood 
 there he was introduced to her. 
 
 "I'm a very poor talker," he declared to her, be-
 
 THE LIFE OF A LETTER. 39 
 
 coming still more local. " I hardly belong here, for I 
 really have nothing to say." 
 
 " That is exactly what will give you a perfect claim," 
 said Miss Hobart. " You will be like the rest, then." 
 
 Tliis beginning gave them a half-humorous under 
 standing, from which they went on smoothly. Jose 
 phine had spoken quietl}', softly ; neither in the tone 
 of satire nor in that of earnest. From her manner, 
 she might have been imparting a gentle confidence of 
 some sort. Evidently her power lay in her repose ; 
 Oliphant was struck by this. She had large, medita 
 tive, dark-gray eyes that moved slowly with a hidden 
 glance sidewise ; she appeared to be low-browed, but 
 only because of the breadth of her forehead : alto 
 gether she was an embodiment of revery. Oliphant 
 even fancied a guarded sadness in her face ; and all 
 this seemed to him very strange in a young woman 
 who drew so much admiration. More and more the 
 thought presented itself that she was the centre of 
 calm in the midst of the whirlpool. 
 
 If this were true, the similitude was borne out by 
 the fact that swiftly, surely the idle young men in the 
 neighborhood were drawn closer and closer, and soon 
 were held in a semicircle around her. Eugene felt 
 that he was no match for them, and hastily abandoned 
 the conversation. For a while he stayed near the other 
 two ladies, half-silent and uneasy, disturbed by a rest 
 lessness which he was at a loss to account for. Then, 
 finding that Mrs. Deering would not remain much 
 longer and expected to drive home in her carnage, he 
 retreated to a door by the veranda ; and, after watch-
 
 40 NEWPORT. 
 
 ing the group until he was thoroughly puzzled to decide 
 whether Thorburn was more interested iu the widow or 
 Miss Ilobart, he departed. 
 
 He had to repack some of his things before remov 
 ing to Porter's, and it occurred to him to do this to 
 night ; but when he had put on his dressing-gown, an 
 impulse led him into quite a different employment. In 
 a smaller trunk that stood near his bed was a quantity 
 of papers, many of them old letters, which had belonged 
 to his wife. He had brought them hither inconsistently 
 enough, since it was on Mary Deering's advice to sever 
 himself wholly from his past that he had come to New 
 port. But when he had first looked over his wife's 
 belongings, he had been too much affected and too 
 weary to complete the task ; and he fancied that the 
 present summer would be a good time to review what 
 remained, and destroy them. The associations of the 
 day and his musings at the dance inclined him now to 
 take a look at these shrivelled relics. He began hum 
 ming again : 
 
 " An' I were as fair as she, 
 And she were as kind as I, 
 What pair" 
 
 Here he unlocked the box, and threw back the lid. A 
 lingering musty perfume stole up from the mass of old 
 writings. . . . Somewhere down there, he knew, were 
 the early love-letters. There, too, he shuddered as he 
 thought of it, was the equally impassioned but stern 
 and bitter correspondence growing out of a long absence 
 of hers, when she had threatened separation. He 
 hesitated to touch any of these : indeed, he wondered
 
 THE LIFE OF A LETTER. 41 
 
 why he had kept them at all. But there was a great 
 tenacity in his temperament, and he had always wished 
 to review his experience as a whole, some day, and 
 Bolve its unsatisfactoriness ; so he had held on to these 
 documents with little care what hands they might fall 
 into, were he to die before disposing of them. The 
 same recklessness on that head had once induced him 
 to set down, partly for relief, partly for analysis, 
 memoranda of the mental anguish through which he 
 was passing, due to the luckless struggle into which hia 
 married life had fallen. Upon the little book in which 
 he had entered these records his hand rested first, 
 when he began to examine the contents of the trunk, 
 and he turned a few pages to see what was there. 
 Strange, indefensible, even ghastly seemed the bitter 
 things he found ; and for the most part they had lost 
 their meaning ; yet he remembered how dreadfully real 
 their meaning had once been how it had scorched 
 his heart. One paragraph, however, struck him, and 
 renewed the old turmoil. It was this : 
 
 "Do we love each other Alice and I or detest? I can't 
 decide. But when we are bolh hating hardest, we cling to 
 each other most, if only for a better chance to stab. Yes; as 
 some have said, love and hate are the same and merely change 
 their effect as strong essences may either poison to death, or 
 else poison us out of disease into healthy life." 
 
 Oliphant put down the book. "And in spite of 
 every thing," he murmured, "I suppose I loved her! 
 Poor child, when she was laid in her grave . . . O 
 God," he went on, looking upward, as if in commun 
 ion, " if forgiveness is love, you know whether I loved ;
 
 42 NEWPORT. 
 
 but I do not. I know there was too much weakness 
 and resentment and longing for present happiness in 
 me, to make me deserving in the sight of the Highest." 
 For some time after this he remained inert and silent, 
 unaware of any thought except as it might take the 
 form of penitence and prayer. Then he lifted mechan 
 ically one of the packets of folded papers, untied it, 
 and began to read. They proved to be letters written 
 to his wife by various friends, some time before he had 
 even known her ; and there was not much in them to 
 interest him. Still, he continued to examine them in a 
 cursor}- way. Suddenly he gave a start ; then he raised 
 his eyebrows and looked closer at the written sheet 
 which he was holding. * After this he turned at once 
 to the end, on the other page, for the signature. The 
 ink was timeworn, fatigued by its long waiting, but 
 scarcely dimmed. The name stood out clearly : " Hel- 
 vetius Gifford." Oliphaut was sure he had never seen 
 this paper before ; but there, pressed upon it with 
 mute emphasis, was the name which he had heard 
 but a few hours since as that of Mrs. Gifford's hus 
 band ! 
 
 Going back, he read the whole from the beginning ; 
 and now his eyes were lifted quietly from its lamp-lit 
 surface to the glassy squares of his window. He at 
 length became aware that the dying moon had cast a 
 strange ashen light over the sky. But why had he 
 never heard of this letter before? Why had his wife 
 never told him of the matter ? It had been addressed 
 to her, these long years ago, by Helvetius Gifford, and 
 contained an offer of marriage from him, couched in
 
 THE LIFE OF A LETTER. 43 
 
 terms of adoration the sincerity of which was unmis- 
 takable ; words that looked cold and rigid now, in their 
 parallel ink}- lines but only as lava looks black when 
 it is cooled, showing none the less where once the fire 
 of its life flowed burning away, into the unseen.
 
 m. 
 
 MRS. BLAZER'S DINNER. 
 
 TDORTER had not shown himself at the Casino 
 J- dance, his calibre requiring entertainments of 
 greater weight. But he sent his clog-cart to the hotel, 
 next morning, to transfer Oliphant to the villa. 
 
 "You look tired," he observed solicitously, on his 
 guest's arrival. 
 
 "I'm all right," said Eugene. "I was up rather 
 late. But what a cosey place you've got here ! " 
 
 " Yes ; it does well enough for me. Not mine, you 
 know; merely taken it for the season." Porter was 
 addicted to brevity of speech. "Belongs to a man 
 named Craig. lie lives here in winter, but during the 
 summer he crawls off into a boarding-house and lets 
 the cottage. Rent keeps him in funds for the rest of 
 the year, you see. Guess he put most of his money 
 into this shebang, for he seems hard up. His sou has 
 to play the organ in one of the churches here, to eke 
 things out. Quite a genius by the way, that young 
 fellow. Justin they call him. You fond of music?" 
 
 " Exceedingly." 
 
 "AVell, I'll get him to come and play for you; 
 piano goes with house. I furnish a good many things, 
 
 44
 
 JlfRS. BLAZER'S DINNER. 45 
 
 though, including turn-outs. Come, I'll show you 
 your room." 
 
 The house was an attractive one, placed near the old 
 Green End Road, which now with the sham elegance 
 of a parvenu taste has been rechristened Bueua Vista 
 Street. It was supposed to be in the style of Queen 
 Anne ; but had that virtuous matron made a progress 
 in its direction, it may be doubted whether she would 
 have recognized it as a leal subject of her reign in art. 
 The deep brown of its exterior more naturally sug 
 gested the domestic inspiration of pumpkin pie. But 
 the room to which Raish Porter conducted his guest 
 was quite to Oliphant's taste, and was provided with a 
 sheltered ombra where, in the midst of flowering plants, . 
 one could inhale the fresh air and gaze upon the green 
 water in front of Easton's Beach, and the gently 
 mounded pastures farther off, which, as Oliphant knew 
 of old, rolled away into the sheltered vale of Paradise. 
 On those slopes rose a squat, comfortable-looking gray 
 wind-mill, past which a delicate fog was beginning to 
 float in from the ocean, spreading its ghostly influence 
 over the laud. 
 
 " Now at last I feel that I'm in Newport ! " Oliphant 
 exclaimed, with satisfaction. 
 
 " Well, my boy, make yourself at home. This after 
 noon, if j'ou like, I'll take you the long drive. Do as 
 you please independence compact, 3'ou know. I've 
 put you down at both the clubs ; convenient. If you 
 want aii3 T thing, ring that bell. And oh, by the wa}-," 
 he added, looking around the door, which he had 
 already opened, to go out, " there's a little wagon en-
 
 46 NEWPORT. 
 
 tircly for your own use. Any time yon want it, just 
 tell James." 
 
 Without giving his friend time to thank him, he dis 
 appeared. 
 
 When Oliphant went down stairs, a few moments 
 later, Porter was nowhere to be seen. He looked out 
 of the window ; the fog, he saw, had increased. "This 
 is devilish queer," he said to himself. "Where can 
 Porter be?" It seemed to him that his host must 
 have vanished into the fog, and he allowed himself to 
 fancy that perhaps he might not return. 
 
 He rang the bell. "Do you know," he asked of 
 the servant, " whether Mr. Porter is in? " 
 
 " No, sir, he's not in," said James. " He went out 
 a few moments ago." 
 
 " Do you expect him in presently? " 
 
 "Can't say, sir." 
 
 There came over Oliphant an uncomfortable sense of 
 being a prisoner, and he said to the servant who still 
 waited : " I think I shall go down to the club the old 
 club ; not the Casino. If Mr. Porter comes in, will 
 you tell him that I shall be back to lunch? " 
 
 He escaped, and was ridiculously glad to be in the 
 free air once more. He .was conscious that the old 
 club, the Newport Re ad ing- Room, was the conserva 
 tive stronghold, and for this reason he took his way 
 thither, instead of to the Casino. It occurred to him 
 that he had been a trifle rash in accepting Porter's 
 hospitality without ascertaining more about his present 
 status. 
 
 At the club, which was nearly un tenanted, he tried
 
 MRS. BLAZER'S DINNER. 47 
 
 to read the newspapers ; but the letter which he had 
 discovered the night before kept coming into his mind. 
 What was he to do with it ? That was the vexatious 
 point, for apparently there was nothing to be done. 
 One might say that, in an honorable sense, the docu 
 ment belonged to Mrs. Gifford as much as to himself ; 
 that she ought to take it and dispose of it in her own 
 way. Yet it would never do to give it to her. No ; 
 that was decided : she must not know of it, on any ac 
 count. He would burn it. Here again he was obliged 
 to ask himself whether he had any right to do so ; and 
 he could not be sure that he had. Throwing down the 
 newspaper, he saw Roger Deeriug, who had just entered 
 the room, standing in front of him. 
 
 They dropped into a slow dialogue, and Porter be 
 came the subject. 
 
 " Yes, I'm staying with him," said Eugene. " But 
 this sudden prosperity of his rather bewilders me. The 
 last time I knew of him he was merely travelling agent 
 of the Magawisca Manufacturing Company. He tells 
 me now that he's launched out for himself ; and he 
 appears to be opulent. It's a great change, seems to 
 me." 
 
 " So it is," Roger assented. "But I suppose he's 
 entitled to it. He developed a great head for busi 
 ness, and some people think he is a remarkable finan 
 cier. He certainly has made some long-sighted opera 
 tions, and is very successful so far." 
 
 " So far, eh? Then }'ou doubt his future? " 
 
 Deering answered diplomatically: "Why should I? 
 I know nothing about what he's projecting. Only this,
 
 48 NEWPORT. 
 
 Eugene : as you're my cousin, I'll warn you that I've 
 sometimes suspected Raish " he lowered his voice, 
 "of rather snide transactions; and setting that 
 apart, I know that he is taking great risks." 
 
 Eugene smiled. " And, as a stockbroker, you con 
 sider that against him? " 
 
 "I presume, Eugene," was the reply, "that your 
 head is well settled on the horizontal plane ; in other 
 words, level. You're not a lamb. You had your stint 
 of Wall Street some time ago, I take it. But Raish 
 Porter is even more seductive than stock-quotations, 
 and I advise }x>u to keep clear of his schemes." 
 
 " Oh, I suppose I shall do that any way," said Oli- 
 phant; "but I'm obliged for the hint." He had an 
 inclination to talk to Roger about Atlee. Roger, with 
 his ruddy face, his short hair, his busy, active manner, 
 seemed so honest, that Oliphant's dawning anxiety 
 with regard to the attentions of Atlee became doubly 
 painful. But he really had nothing to go upon, and 
 Roger probably would not thank him for revealing it if 
 he had ; so he merely asked a few questions about the 
 Anglicized young man. Except for his foreign non 
 sense, Roger thought him one of the best of fellows, 
 and showed perfect confidence in him. Confidence, it 
 struck Eugene, was the broker's strongest trait ; con 
 fidence in himself, in his wife, in Atlee, combined with 
 a confidence that he knew the ways of the world, and 
 did not trust anybody too much. Why wouldn't it be 
 a good idea to get his advice regarding the letter? 
 Accordingly, Eugene put the case to him as a supposi 
 titious one.
 
 NES. BLAZER'S DINNER. 49 
 
 ""What would I do?" said Roger in reply, casting 
 up the pros and cons with his chin in the air. " Well, 
 that depends on how much you are acquainted with the 
 lady. However, I should say there is no doubt she 
 ought to have or at least see the letter, some time. It's 
 the square thing. When you know her better, say ; or 
 perhaps Mary could help you." 
 
 "Oh no; no. Don't say a word to Mary. Please 
 keep the whole thing strictly to yourself. I'll wait and 
 see." 
 
 " All right." 
 
 Going back to the cottage, Eugene lunched alone, 
 Raish still not having returned ; and when at last the 
 latter made his appearance, it was time for the drive. 
 "By the way," said Raish, "I met Mrs. Blazer, and 
 she wants us both to dine with her on Friday." 
 
 "She's very kind; but I don't know her yet, you 
 remember." 
 
 " Oh, I'll arrange that. I shall present you to-mor 
 row. There will be some interesting people at the 
 dinner ; Count Fitz-Stuart, and Lord Hawkstane, and 
 Vivian AA r are," Oliphant continued to look dubious, 
 " and that fascinating woman, Mrs. Gifford," Raish 
 concluded. 
 
 "Ah, she is to be there? I should like to see her 
 again." 
 
 " And I don't blame you," said his companion, with 
 an off-hand familiarity that somehow grated on Eugene. 
 But they were now spinning along in the dog-cart ; and 
 the soft marine air, with the prospect of soon meeting 
 Mrs. Gifford once more, speedily put him into good
 
 50 NEWPORT. 
 
 humor. Porter went on fluently, telling who lived in 
 the various houses, and striking out witticisms from 
 whatever material offered. But when they had passed 
 out on to the ocean road that follows the shore to Bate- 
 man's Point and around again to the harbor, his tone 
 changed. 
 
 "I tell you, Oliphant," he declared with vehe 
 mence, " that life we've left behind us in the town is 
 all a sham. It drops itself down in one of the loveliest 
 regions Nature can show, and just devotes itself to a 
 surfeit of amusement and artifice, to fal-lal and lah-de- 
 dah. I despise it ! " 
 
 " Why do you come here, then? " 
 
 "Why do you, my dear fellow? We must be 'of 
 our time,' }-ou know." And he continued to talk in a 
 strain of capacious dissatisfaction ; satirizing the super 
 ficial republicanism of American institutions, and de 
 claring with solid cheerfulness that the present state of 
 things must eventually be swept away and a new civil 
 ization be built up above the ruins. But as they drew 
 near the outer streets again, on the homeward stretch, 
 he subsided into contented acceptance of the hollow 
 present, and was careful to show Oliphant where Mi's. 
 Gifford lived. It was a house with timbers let into the 
 walls, and raised its high-piled gables showily above 
 the trees on a hill to the west of the polo-grounds, com 
 manding the harbor and Narragansett Bay. " They 
 call it High Lawn," Porter said. 
 
 The fog had continued to hang about the island, and 
 it increased at nightfall ; so that when Oliphant re 
 paired to his room to sleep, he was glad to see a cheer-
 
 MRS. BLAZER'S DINNER. 51 
 
 ful fire on the modern-antique hearth. The winking 
 flames reminded him of his first design of burning 
 Gifford's letter. Mustering his resolution, he took the 
 paper out of its repository and went straight to the fire 
 with it, intending to drop it upon the blazing wood ; 
 but at the last moment his doubts returned, and he con 
 cluded to wait. There was a force in it, a something 
 approaching personality, which he could not overcome ; 
 it began to make him nervous ; he disliked to put it 
 away again and leave it as if it might take some 
 action against him unawares, when his back should be 
 turned for it was no longer a passive thing. Prompt 
 ed by this unreasoning impression, he put the letter into 
 a safe pocket in his coat, determined thereafter to carry 
 it about with him. 
 
 At the usual morning assemblage in the Casino, the 
 next day, he was presented to Mrs. Blazer, who made 
 herself agreeable, but wore a pained, abstracted look. 
 He noticed, too, that she constantly, in moments of 
 silence, compressed her upper lip so that it became 
 suddenly creased with fine downward lines, like those 
 of hidden steel springs. 
 
 " I'm glad you will come, Friday," she said, relax 
 ing this pressure and smiling at him ; but it was a weary 
 smile, that of a person absorbed in schemes, all of 
 which were perhaps not going as she wished. Oliphant 
 had a suspicion that this Social Usurper, like her con 
 geners in the history of thrones, must always remain 
 insecure. 
 
 " It is very considerate in you to ask me," he replied, 
 " when you have so many to choose from here, and I 
 am little more than a stranger."
 
 52 NEWPORT. 
 
 " My clear Mr. Oliphant," her use of this address 
 savored of imperial condescension, "I arn delighted 
 to entertain an old friend ,of Mr. Porter's. Besides, 
 you are not so much a stranger." 
 
 "No? How is that?" 
 
 "Mr. Sweetser has been telling me that he knows 
 all about you." 
 
 " He must be a magician, then." 
 
 " Oh no, he's a very simple man ; a delightful man, 
 too Mr. Sweetser. He's like a glass of soda-water, 
 always sparkling." 
 
 Oliphaut caught sight of him in the distance, at that 
 moment, smirking to some ladies on the balcony. 
 " Yes," he said ; " he seems to enjoy life thoroughly. 
 But you make me curious. I should like to hear my 
 history from him, because he'd be sure to give it a 
 new vivacity." 
 
 " Ah, that's very well said," Mrs. Blazer declared, 
 showing her large teeth in a heartier smile than before. 
 " But he only said he remembered seeing you, or know 
 ing of you, some years ago in Springfield. Mr. Sweet 
 ser can remember a long time back for a young man." 
 
 " I don't think I remember him," said Oliphant, re 
 flecting." 
 
 "I d?re say not; I believe he had known Mrs. 
 Oliphant, when she was Miss Davenant. But I notice 
 your cousin beckoning for you over there : she wants 
 to see } T ou." 
 
 " Where? " Oliphant turned, and discovering Mrs. 
 Deeriug, went to join her. 
 
 " I am dying to ask you one question," said that
 
 MBS. BLAZER'S DINNER. 53 
 
 alert little lady, when she had drawn him apart to a 
 quieter spot. " Is it Mrs. Gifford? " 
 
 " It 9 What ? And what about her ? ' ' 
 
 " Why, I mean the letter. Is she the widow you 
 meant, when you told Roger? " 
 
 Oliphant was thunderstruck. "Is it possible he 
 mentioned that to you?" he inquired, showing his vex 
 ation. " I told him particularly " 
 
 "Oh, never mind that," interrupted Mrs. Deering, 
 good-humoredly. " Of course he tried to keep it to 
 himself, but he was so much interested, he couldn't. 
 And do you know, I guessed right away that it was 
 Mrs. Gifford. Wasn't that 'cute of me ! " She gazed 
 up at him with such a saucy triumph, that he was 
 obliged to pocket his annoyance. 
 
 " I don't know that it makes any difference to me," 
 he said. " But Mrs. Gifford certainly has some claim. 
 I'm sorry I spoke to Roger, even vaguely." 
 
 " You might trust me a little," said his cousin, in a 
 tone of injury. "Of course I sha'n't allude to it to 
 any one else, in the faintest way. But I want to know 
 if you're really going to show her that letter." 
 
 " Of course not. How can I? Would you do such 
 a thing?" 
 
 " Decidedly not, unless I wanted to give her a shock 
 and make her unhappy." 
 
 " But possibly she knows of the original fact already, 
 even if she never heard of the letter." 
 
 Mrs. Deering shook her head. "I doubt if she 
 knows ; and even if she did, showing her this old let 
 ter would only bring it up in a p:iiuful, unnecessary 
 way."
 
 54 NEWPORT. 
 
 "So I think," he returned. "But as long as you 
 had been told, I thought I'd get your opinion." 
 
 "Well, I've given it; but you mustn't consider me 
 as advising," said she, settling her chin with the 
 placidness of sated curiosity. 
 
 Oliphant was exasperated at the semi-publicity into 
 which he had allowed his secret to be dragged ; but 
 he consoled himself with the fact that husband and 
 wife had flatly contradicted each other's counsel. 
 
 The day for the dinner arrived, and at Mrs. Blazer's 
 every thing appeared light, gay, brilliant ; but the 
 elegance of her big mirrors, teak wood furniture and 
 huge vases was tarnished by a suspicion that it could 
 not be quite genuine. 
 
 " We are just waiting for the Count," said the host 
 ess, while she welcomed Porter and his companion. 
 She had on a dress of cream-colored silk, plaited and 
 draped with the elaboration of a bastioned fortress ; 
 and around the tightly drawn space at the bottom was 
 spread, like a victorious ensign, a rich applied Turkish 
 embroidery, full of red and yellow. 
 
 The servant announced Count Fitz-Stuart, and Por 
 ter whispered to Oliphaut, "'Positively the last' of 
 the Stuarts. They don't last especially well, eh? " 
 
 In truth, the young Count made no very distin 
 guished figure : slim, habile in form, face the color of 
 an apricot ripened under artificial conditions ; insig 
 nificant teeth, slightly injured ; a general expression of 
 light-hearted readiness for whatever should turn up ; 
 all this glazed over with a thin magnificence of manner, 
 somewhat run down from want of exercise.
 
 MRS. BLAZER'S DINNER. 55 
 
 Among the others present were Vivian Ware and 
 her brother Stillman, Perry Thorburn and Miss Hobart, 
 and the two Misses Blazer. Oliphant was keenly on 
 the lookout for Mrs. Gifford, who greeted him with a 
 smile that was flattering because it seemed to premise 
 that, having seen him once, she was glad to meet him 
 again in a more intimate circle. He crossed over to 
 speak with her. 
 
 " I didn't see you at the Casino, to-day," he said. 
 
 " No, I go only now and then. And to-day I I 
 was particularly occupied." She looked down for an 
 instant, and then at him, with an almost girlish antici 
 pation of the surprise she meant to give him. " Where 
 do you suppose I was ? The most romantic thing you 
 can imagine ! " 
 
 "If it's romantic," said Oliphant, "I sha'n't try 
 to guess ; for only like knows like." 
 
 " I don't know what makes me tell you," Mrs. Gif 
 ford proceeded; "I'm sure I don't. Well, I was 
 down at old Trinity Church, listening to the organ 
 on a week-day, you know." 
 
 He thought this a flat conclusion, but exclaimed with 
 fervor, " How singular ! " 
 
 "Yes," said his new friend; "but that's nothing 
 at all. The great point is the organist." 
 
 "Ah? Who is he?" 
 
 "A young musical magnificence. Justin Craig is 
 his name." 
 
 "Craig? Why, I've heard of him. I'm staying 
 in his father's house, with Mr. Porter. Isn't it the 
 same? "
 
 56 NEWPORT. 
 
 " Yes, yes," cried Mrs. Gifford, alive with enthusi 
 asm. " Have you met Justin? " 
 
 The gaslight appeared to Oliphant to burn several 
 degrees brighter, under the influence of this sudden 
 interest. 
 
 "No, I don't know him," he said, reluctantly. 
 " You have a high opinion of his talent, then? " 
 
 " You shall see for yourself what it is, Mr. Oliphant. 
 He is coming to play for us here, later in the evening." 
 
 " Then that isn't he over there by the window, talk 
 ing with Miss Hobart?" Oliphant had reference to 
 a tall young man with a palish, elongated face, and 
 vaguely high-bred air, who seemed to be uncomfortable 
 in whatever position he took, and had just shaken him 
 self into a fresh attitude before Josephine. 
 
 Mrs. Gifford returned an incredulous gaze. " That ! 
 Why, that's Lord Hawkstane ; didn't you know? 
 Poor Justin would never be invited here to dine." 
 
 Oliphant was now taken away for presentation to 
 Miss Blazer, the elder, Ruth by name, with whom he 
 was to go in to dinner. Mrs. Blazer led with Lord 
 Hawkstane, and Count Fitz-Stuart escorted Vivian 
 Ware. The dining-room was a rotunda, and the table 
 was circular, too ; so that although Oliphant was 
 placed between Vivian Ware and Ruth Blazer, with 
 Lord Hawkstane and Tilly Blazer opposite, he had a 
 good view of the whole company. There were burn 
 ing candles in slim brass holders set on small circular 
 mirrors ; red and yellow flowers, repeating the tints of 
 Mrs. Blazer's embroidery, abounded ; and trails of 
 fern led from the central mass to each plate, softening
 
 MRS. BLAZER'S DINNER. 57 
 
 the glitter of the lights, the brass, the glass, and the 
 flame-colored blossoms. 
 
 As the turbot d, la bechamel followed the Little Neck 
 clams, the Count was heard remarking to Vivian : 
 " But this I do not see, why they call him Little Neck, 
 for this feeshes has not any necks of all." 
 
 "Next to none," Oliphant hazarded; whereupon 
 Vivian gave him a merry glance that put value into 
 the wretched pun. 
 
 Just then Lord Hawkstane monopolized attention by 
 what he was saying to Miss Tilly Blazer ; a young 
 woman, by the way, sagacious and picturesque after 
 her manner, with a cultivated air of silliness, and 
 sleepy-looking eyes and nose. She listened with ab 
 sorption to his account of the fox-hunt. " Yes, I got 
 the mask," he said. "But all this sort of thing," he 
 continued, in his high-pitched, boyish voice, " is very 
 different to England, you know. Beastly stone walls 
 and all that, don't you know ; but then it was awfully 
 jolly w'en we came in at the death. Ilow'ver, on the 
 way, we got to one of those windmills, don't you 
 know, ha, ha!" he burst into a watery little 
 laugh " and the fox ran in there. Yes he did, 'pon 
 my word." 
 
 " How mean of him ! " sighed Miss Tilly. 
 
 "Yes," agreed his lordship, after gulping a glass 
 of Sauterne. "Awfully. It was what you call here 
 'cussed,' don't you know? 'Pure cusseduess.' ' 
 And he laughed again with gratification at having 
 proved himself a wit. " He was a nahsty little fox. 
 Well, we had to call the hunt together, you know, and
 
 58 NEWPORT. 
 
 begin again. They beat him out, and then I got in front 
 and had an awfully tight pull with Thorburn, and came 
 in ahead ; so I got the mask, you und'stand." 
 
 " How perfectly lovely ! " Tilly exclaimed. " And 
 the mask is the head, isn't it? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " It sounds so awfully mysterious, don't you know ? " 
 she went on, bringing her manner softly into accord 
 with his. " The mask, and the brush, and pads ! How 
 I wish I'd been there." 
 
 " Why didn't you come?" Lord Hawkstane asked. 
 " Miss Hobart took the run with us, you know : she 
 was almost in." 
 
 " I was afraid of those dreadful leaps," said Tilly. 
 ' ' But I should so like to see a mask ! Do you have it 
 to keep, all for your own? " 
 
 " Oh yes," said the youthful nobleman, dallying 
 with the enjoyment of some unexpressed joke. " I'm 
 not sure, how'ver, that I shall keep it." (Tilly 
 blushed, and exhibited a readiness to be overwhelmed 
 by his kindness.) "Rather a baw, you know: what 
 can one do with those sorts of things? " 
 
 " Oh, I should think it would be so very interesting 
 to have," Tilly replied, with expectant timidity. 
 
 " If you really care for it so much," he began, show 
 ing the energy of sudden munificence, " I can let you 
 Bee it, I dassay." 
 
 Mrs. Blazer observed that he here stole a look at 
 Miss Hobart, who was at some distance from him ; and 
 the hidden springs in Mrs. Blazer's upper lip began to 
 move nervously, in consequence.
 
 MRS. BLAZER'S DINNER. 59 
 
 Oliphant made good progress with Vivian Ware, 
 during those intervals when Mrs. Blazer engaged the 
 Count. Miss Ware was unlike most of the young Bos 
 ton women he had known, in that she quite threw aside 
 the prim reserve usually assigned to them as a char 
 acteristic. She had been much about the world, and 
 there was a gay freedom in her manner which even 
 subjected her at times to the charge of being " fast ; " 
 yet there lurked in her tone, in her refined features and 
 soft complexion crowned with golden hair in her 
 entire presence an unspoiled sweetness that belonged 
 to the flowering-time of life. 
 
 " One of the chief things," he said to her, " when I 
 was last in Newport, was to go to the Fort, on Thurs 
 days. Were you there yesterda} 7 ? " 
 
 "Bless you, no!" exclaimed Miss Ware. "It's 
 all out of date, now. Last week I believe just one 
 carriage went. It must have felt like a fossil." 
 
 "So do I," he responded. "I see I shall have to 
 remodel myself. How would you advise beginning? 
 Buy a white hat?" 
 
 "If you do that," said Vivian, "you are lost. 
 Black is de rigeur, this summer. And then, you must 
 wear little pointed shoes with cloth down the front." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because you must. It's supposed to be the latest 
 English wrinkle." 
 
 " How is it with our friend the lord, opposite? Does 
 he get himself up that way ? ' ' 
 
 " Oh, no ; he can wear any thing he likes. He's reaZ, 
 you see, and our young men are only imitation. They
 
 60 NEWPORT. 
 
 have to take great pains to pass for even that much : 
 the danger is, they may turn out to be nothing, not 
 even imitation." 
 
 " I'm glad I'm not one of the young men," Oliphant 
 observed, "if that's the way you talk about them." 
 
 " And well you may be," said Vivian with sprightly 
 ease. " You'd much better stay as you are." 
 
 Meanwhile he had opportunities enough to glance 
 across the flower-strewn board at Mrs. Gifford, and the 
 more he contemplated her the greater was the charm. 
 He retraced the lines of her delicate face ; the thin 
 lips, the small mouth and decisive ej'ebrows. Her 
 brown hair was of the palest that it could be without 
 merging into blonde, but she had chosen to invest it 
 with a slight ornamentation of black lace, which though 
 not sombre gave a hint of widowhood. Her dress was 
 black and white, with a skilful introduction of violet. 
 Quite to the slender throat it came ; and the face above, 
 having no strong color, acquired by contrast the remote 
 beauty of warm-toned ivory. To see her smile, toss 
 back her head, drink, look, was to feel a wondrousness 
 about it all, as if an exquisite work of art had suddenly 
 been endowed with life. 
 
 As soon as the dinner had worn its way through 
 numerous courses to the cloyment of sweets and coffee, 
 and a respite of smoke had been allowed, Oliphant 
 hastened to rejoin her. 
 
 " I begin to think," he commenced, " that you have 
 held out false hopes as to your youthful prodigy, Craig. 
 He doesn't seem to have come." 
 
 " No," said Mrs. Gifford, plainly disappointed.
 
 MRS. BLAZER'S DINNER. 61 
 
 " Mrs. Blazer received a note after we left the dining- 
 room, and it seems he won't be here." 
 
 There occurred, instead, a duet by the Misses 
 Blazer ; after which he renewed the conversation. But 
 the knowledge of the letter he had discovered hampered 
 him at every step ; he was haunted by suspicions that 
 she might know all about that old courtship, and by an 
 uncomfortable fancy that perhaps she knew nothing, 
 in which case he had her at a disadvantage. The 
 temptation to approach the topic indirectly became 
 irresistible. 
 
 "We were speaking of Springfield, the other even 
 ing," he finally remarked, as if by an accident of 
 thought. " It's strange that I never met Mr. Gifford 
 there. You never heard him speak of me, I sup 
 pose? " 
 
 "No, I don't remember to have heard him," said 
 Octavia. " What makes you think of that? " 
 
 " Well, your name struck me as one that I knew, 
 when I heard it here, on meeting you. Possibly it had 
 come to me in some other way. Perhaps my wife 
 you see, Mr. Gifford may have been known to her ; 
 that is, of course, before we were married." 
 
 The reconnaisance was as clumsy as it could well be ; 
 but Octavia gave no sign of apprehending his motive. 
 "Your wife? " she repeated, in a hushed tone. " As 
 I told you, I never was in Springfield. What was her 
 name, Mr. Oliphant, before your marriage? " 
 
 His voice came liugoringly, as he replied: "Alice 
 Davenant." 
 
 " What a beautiful one ! " Octavia exclaimed, sin-
 
 62 NEWPORT. 
 
 cercly, in subdued tones. " It has the ring of poetry 
 in it. Alice Davenant ! I'm quite sure, though, that 
 Mr. Gifford did not know her : if he had, I should have 
 remembered his mentioning it." 
 
 Oliphant's doubts were thus set at rest. He changed 
 the topic quickly, and availed himself of the first 
 opportunity to ask if he might call upon her. 
 
 " Why not? " she replied. " I shall be glad to see 
 you. Are you to remain some time in Newport? " 
 
 " Probably through the season," he answered. 
 
 "A wise resolve," said she, "in any one. You 
 won't regret it." 
 
 I shall not deny that Oliphant attributed to these 
 words a superstitious force which they were not fitted 
 to bear. " That's a good prophec}'," he said with 
 vigor, after an instant's revery. "And, since you 
 make it, I think it must be true." 
 
 "\Vhen they had all gone, Mrs. Blazer left alone 
 with her swan-like nieces, drew a crumpled note from 
 her pocket. "There!" she cried, to Ruth. "Head 
 that. Read it out loud." 
 
 Miss Blazer obeyed. The note was from Justin 
 Craig, declining to be present and returning the check 
 she had sent him. "Allow me to add," it ended, 
 "that I will not debase m}- art to the amusement of 
 people who, considering me unfit to associate with on 
 equal terms, would have me sit in the same room and 
 exhibit the beauty of something they are unable to 
 appreciate. If you are content with your position, so 
 am I with mine." 
 
 " Did you ever hear such an insult ! " stormed Mrs.
 
 MRS. BLAZER'S DINNER. 63 
 
 Farley Blazer, walking swiftly about and fanning herself 
 ferociously. " After Octavia Gifford had been at me 
 to send for him, and I had done it out of pure charity, 
 too ! Well, it's just the same, high and low : there's 
 a constant fight with people, even now when I've made 
 them acknowledge me ; and it's hardly worth while to 
 do any thing. And you there, Tilly, why didn't you 
 go to the meet? Do } T OU know what I've found out? 
 It's another piece of Gifford work, getting Josephine 
 Hobart over here ; and I heard Ilawkstane saying, 
 just before he left, that he was going to send her a 
 memento of the fox-hunt. Of course it's the mask, 
 which you'd have got for yourself, if you had any 
 vim ! " 
 
 Saying which, the matron broke into a violence of 
 epithet that, if I were to repeat it, would at once be 
 pronounced unnatural and incredible : therefore we 
 will leave it to be washed away by the tears to which 
 she gave free vent in the midst of her tirade. 
 
 But Oliphant, wending back to the supposed Queen 
 Anne cottage, was soothed by his delightful impres 
 sions of Octavia Gifford, which like a refreshing au 
 tumn rain had begun to lay the dust of his arid past ; 
 uor, if he had known of Mrs. Blazer's explosion, could 
 he have guessed how it would affect his own fate.
 
 IV. 
 
 SOME IMPORTANT TRIFLES. 
 
 " ~| FERE'S a pretty go with young Craig," said 
 
 -I L Raish to his visitor, the next afternoon ; and 
 he related the manner of Justin's refusal, which Mrs. 
 Blazer had been confiding to him. "But the funny 
 part of it," he added, "is the rage she's in. She's 
 formed such a habit, in her long social war, of feeling 
 slighted that she can't be comfortable now without an 
 injury. The case between Craig and' her reminds me 
 of the eagle who refused to carry off a fine plump ewe, 
 on the ground that the muttonish creature wouldn't 
 appreciate the honor ; and then the ewe went around 
 complaining that the eagle had insulted her." 
 
 "Did you tell Mrs. Blazer that?" Oliphant in 
 quired. 
 
 "'Gad, no!" Raish exclaimed. "I told Craig, 
 though, when I saw him, a little while ago : thought 
 it would pacify him." 
 
 " Well, what does he say ? " 
 
 "Oh, he's in a sumptuous and haughty frame of 
 
 mind. It's a pity he behaved so, because this would 
 
 really have been a good opening for him. But I think 
 
 I calmed him down a little ; and I succeeded, accord- 
 
 64
 
 SOME IMPOETANT TRIFLES. 65 
 
 ing to promise, in making him consent to come up 
 here and play for you this evening." 
 
 "I'm glad of that," said Oliphant. "This quixotic 
 proceeding of his makes me more anxious than ever to 
 see him." 
 
 "The real inside reason why he wouldn't accept 
 Mrs. Blazer's offer," Porter volunteered, "was proba 
 bly that he has a desperate attachment for Miss Ware, 
 and didn't wish to appear before her in the light of an 
 inferior." 
 
 "Good!" rejoined Oliphant. "The interest in 
 creases. And the attachment is hopeless, you think ? ' ' 
 
 " Oh, I don't know that it is. On the face of it, 
 you'd think so: fact, it's ridiculous. Of course I'm 
 with him in sympathy : smash up the cliques, / sa} r 
 except when you're in 'em yourself. ' Down with 
 exclusivcness,' and so forth. Let the genius in hum 
 ble circumstances marry the swell girl, and all that. 
 As I said to you recently, we must do away with all 
 this old humbug which is re-asserting itself in a coun 
 try that was made for better things, and start a new 
 order. But for the present the obstacles in Craig's 
 way appear insurmountable ; enough so, any way, to 
 make the hopelessness profitable. To him as a musi 
 cian, j'ou see, despair is just so much stock in trade." 
 
 " For heaven's sake," remonstrated the other, 
 "don't put it that way as if he were carrying on 
 a business in emotions! You make my blood run 
 cold." 
 
 Porter laughed indulgently. "It's true, all the 
 same," he said. "Every thing is business, nowa 
 days."
 
 66 NEWPOET. 
 
 They were smoking their cigars in the cosey bach 
 elor drawing-room, that evening, with black coffee in 
 small Satsuma cups awaiting them on a tray, when 
 Justin Craig made his appearance. Eugene had ex 
 pected something eccentric ; he thought the young 
 man would be tall, gloomy, and in all likelihood long 
 haired. He was surprised, therefore, to find him so 
 gentle, so inconspicuous, and yet so uncommonly 
 attractive as he proved to be. 
 
 " Did you bring any music with you? " he asked. 
 
 "Yes," answered Justin, nodding, but with a re 
 serve of humor in his eyes ; " I've brought some." 
 
 Then, taking his place at the piano, he looked 
 quietly at the keys for a moment, and, before it could 
 well be noticed that he had actually begun, was tra 
 cing his way through the first bars of a prelude by 
 Chopin. As the delicate, gradual tones succeeded 
 each other, Oliphant was strangely affected. Some 
 thing there was so pure and refined in the player's 
 touch, his beginning with this perfectly simple theme 
 showed so true a sensibility, that the world-worn man 
 who listened was carried back to his boyhood, and 
 then far away out of himself into an unknown, sunny- 
 misted region of fancy, where pleasant visions floated 
 round him. All the while, there recurred in the 
 melody, which had about it a great though heart 
 broken peacefulness, some fine and slow descending 
 notes that brought into his mind imperceptibly the 
 idea of light rain falling. 
 
 ' ' Is life so dreary as I have thought ? ' ' mused 
 Oliphant, under this spell. " Surely, if it has room
 
 SOME IMPORTANT TRIFLES. 67 
 
 for this young fellow, with his heart and head respond 
 ing to such sweet fantasies, it may yet hold a possi 
 bility of genuine happiness for me." 
 
 The piece stopped as quietly as it had begun, and 
 he asked what it was. " It's usually called The Rain 
 drop," said Justin. "One of the best of Chopin's 
 things, too. Now I'll give you some of Raff," he 
 continued, plunging at once into a brilliant impromptu. 
 
 Porter, after a congenial remark or two, took his 
 leave, on the plea of a business engagement. Thus left 
 alone, the young musician and his new friend enjoyed 
 an hour of rare delight, both in discussing various 
 composers and listening to their productions, as Justin 
 gave them wing upon the keyboard. Justin had a 
 long face ; rather a long nose ; an expression of natu 
 ral pride, which yet had nothing domineering about it, 
 and was tempered with natural sweetness. His lips 
 were slightly drawn back at the corners, without being 
 strained ; and there was a small hollow just above the 
 chin, caused by the firm jut of the lower lip, so de 
 cided that, as the light streamed over him from above, 
 a spot of shadow rested there. His own shadow was 
 thrown behind him upon the dim-papered wall, waver 
 ing somewhat with his firm, unexaggerated motion as 
 his hands changed position and grasped from the keys 
 the secret of their harmonies. Altogether, that keen, 
 unusual face, so stead}' and concentrated in the midst 
 of shifting lights and shadows, with wave on wave of 
 intelligent sound rising up and floating around it, 
 became singularly impressive. 
 
 "I'm sorry," said Oliphant at length, when Craig
 
 68 NEWPORT. 
 
 had stopped to rest, and was lounging in a deep chair 
 with a cigarette in his mouth, " I'm sorry we couldn't 
 have heard you last night, at Mrs. Blazer's." 
 
 Justin jumped up, letting an angry whiff of smoke 
 escape. "I couldn't have played there, Mr. Oliphant, 
 I couldn't!" he exclaimed. "Why, my lingers 
 would have rebelled, even if / had consented. Don't 
 you see how it is? You wouldn't ask me to do such a 
 thing, I should hope. You have too much of the art 
 ist in you, for that, even if you have been a business 
 man." 
 
 "I'm glad you think so well of me, at any rate," 
 smiled Eugene. " Certainly I appreciate your feeling, 
 but" 
 
 "Oh, 'but,' 'but-!'" interrupted the younger man. 
 "There is no 'but' about it. Pardon me; I didn't 
 mean to be rough," he added. " But if you only knew 
 how the snobbishness of this whole place jars on me, 
 and how that incident of last night brings it all back ! 
 Oh, it's insufferable, it's miserable ! Sham, sham, 
 sham, all around : we're on an island of sham, with 
 the big ocean of reality on every side, which they're 
 all afraid of being drowned in if they once venture 
 off ! " He curved his arms out, downward, and swept 
 them round him, to describe this ocean, and went on 
 railing. " Of course," he wound up, " I know there 
 are lovely people here, amiable and cultivated, and so 
 forth ; but even they are affected. I see a little of 
 some of them who stay during the winter ; but some 
 how, except with the poor ones, I am made to feel my 
 inferiority. And here is this house our home that
 
 SOME IMPORTANT TRIFLES. 69 
 
 we have to abandon during the season. Why should I 
 feel humiliated by that fact, if we can't help it? But 
 I am humiliated. There's no, sense in it, and it only 
 shows how you can't help breathing in this poison of 
 the plutocracy, that fills the air. I hate every thing 
 and everybody in the place ! ' ' 
 
 " Including Mrs. Gifford ? " inquired Oliphant 
 mildly. 
 
 "Ah, Mrs. Gifford! No; I believe she is a good 
 friend. Such a woman as she is ! Perfect in herself 
 standing way off from a fellow, yet so S3*mpathetic. 
 No ; I oughtn't to have said everybody ; for there's 
 another one other" Justin stopped short, re 
 lighted his cigarette, which had gone out, and subsided 
 into his chair. 
 
 As he sat there, a distant look came into his face ; 
 the storminess of his recent mood died away in an ex 
 pression of great gentleness. Oliphant knew he must 
 be thinking of Vivian Ware. 
 
 It was after this that, returning to the piano, Justin 
 played something which startled his auditor by its crisp, 
 clear, bounding individuality. Coming after so main' 
 German pieces, it was like the scent of aromatic New 
 England woods and the sound of native speech, on the 
 return from Europe. Oliphant recognized in the music 
 something native and original ; and it turned out to be, 
 in fact, Justin's own composition. He no longer hesi 
 tated to regard the young man as a promising genius ; 
 and he foresaw that to take him in charge and aid him 
 in his professional education might furnish just the sort 
 of motive in life which he himself would like.
 
 70 NEWPORT. 
 
 Raish did not return until late, when Craig had been 
 gone some time. He appeared in more than good 
 spirits : he was excited, -which with him was rarely the 
 case. His e}~es glowed as if from the reflected glare 
 of some crucible seething with combinations that were 
 to yield marvellous results. " You've lost a great 
 pleasure," said his guest. " I wouldn't have missed 
 it, for a good share in the profits I suppose you've been 
 figuring up." 
 
 " Do you really mean that?" queried Raish, blandly 
 rubbing his hands. 
 
 "Thoroughly." 
 
 The shining look passed away from the other man's 
 eyes, which rapidly cooled down under pressure of the 
 will. " My dear fellow," said he, carelessly, seating 
 himself, "a tenth in one of my operations say my 
 new Orbicular Machinery Company, whose patents you 
 know are going to make it an enormous success 
 would give, with what you have, a really handsome 
 fortune. But, bah!" he ended impatiently. "I 
 resolved when you came that we shouldn't talk money ; 
 and we won't. Don't let me forget again. Have 
 some beer, before bed?" 
 
 His hand was on the bell ; but Oliphant declined the 
 refreshment. Arrived at his room, he suspected that 
 Porter really wanted to discuss business, and he was 
 glad he had escaped. Assuredly there was something 
 about this man which made it hard to trust him fully ; 
 and it was odd that both he and Justin, of whose sin 
 cerity Oliphant hadn't a doubt, should have taken the 
 same tone in criticising the Newport spirit. If two
 
 SOME IMPORTANT TRIFLES. 71 
 
 men so opposite could agree, there must be something 
 in it, Oliphant thought. This, however, was not what 
 he thought about chiefly, as he sat iu his ombra indul 
 ging a brief meditation, and watching the pale stars 
 that shot forth their gleams in a silent rhythm. He 
 was brooding over Justin's enamored subjection to 
 Vivian Ware. Wonderful must be the refined passion 
 which drew the young minstrel towards her. Wonder 
 ful, too, in a world so full of disappointments, to find 
 a youthful heart so like millions of other youthful 
 hearts fired with lofty enthusiasm, lavish in scoro 
 and unreasonableness, and devoutly believing in love ! 
 ... At last, Oliphant's revery settled upon Octavia 
 Gifford, and he even harbored a wish that he also 
 could be young, like Justin. 
 
 Two or three days later, Dana Sweetser, bestarched, 
 perfumed, roseate of countenance, and resplendent as 
 to neck-scarf, was making a morning call at Mrs. 
 Blazer's. Something occurred in the conversation 
 which led Mrs. Blazer to tax him with being forgetful. 
 This was touching him in a tender spot, and he became 
 termined to show her that his mind was still young 
 and active. " My dear madam," he exclaimed, " you 
 couldn't make a greater mistake ! Accuse me of other 
 faults, if you like, ah too great a fondness for the 
 fair sex he, he! but don't accuse my memory. 
 Why, it's the easiest thing to give you proofs of its 
 strength." Dana was really on the verge of being in 
 censed : his little thimbleful of soul was tossing with 
 puny indignation. It occurred to him that he might 
 tell her how well he remembered the time when her
 
 72 NEWPORT. 
 
 father was a butcher, not a very good one, either, 
 and how her husband had begun in life as the pro 
 prietor of a junk-shep. But it did not lie in Dana's 
 composition to do anything so harsh as that ; so he 
 punished her merely by recalling a quantity of dry 
 details about long past trivial events. Mrs. Blazer 
 was beginning to wince under the infliction, when he 
 suddenly struck a new vein. " Oh, and Mr. Oliphant, 
 you know ! " said he. " I was telling 3-011 1 knew about 
 him. But I didn't get a chance to mention the oddest 
 thing. What do you suppose?" 
 
 " Can't imagine, Mr. Sweetser. What? " 
 
 " Why," Dana laughed, seemingly inclined to pro 
 long the pleasure of imparting, "his wife, you 
 know, the girl he married ' ' 
 
 "Whom did he marry?" Mrs. Blazer asked, grow 
 ing curious. 
 
 " Alice Davenant, Miss Davenant, of Springfield. 
 But the joke is this : she had previously jilted Gifford, 
 the husband of Mrs. Gifford the lovely, here. Isn't 
 that singular?" 
 
 Mrs. Blazer's eyes glowed. "As a coincidence, 
 yes ; very singular. And Octavia hadn't known this 
 Mr. Oliphant, do you suppose, till they met, the other 
 day?" 
 
 " No," said Dana ; " I believe they were strangers." 
 
 "Well, well, upon my life ! " Mrs. Blazer exclaimed, 
 smiling with peculiar relish. " Of course they must 
 have known the facts, though," she added, contract 
 ing her glance to an evil watchfulness. 
 
 "That I can't say," Dana rejoined, as thoroughly
 
 SOME IMPORTANT TRIFLES. 73 
 
 mellowed as if he had taken a glass of wine. "I should 
 think Oliphant must have known ; but it wouldn't be 
 BO certain that Mrs. Gifford did, you know : would 
 it? " And he cocked his appreciative eye at her, like 
 one competent to get the full value but of such mat 
 ters, by discussing all the minute possibilities of doubt. 
 
 The lady of the smoky white complexion humored 
 him and suited herself, by carrying out this process. 
 " First tell me all the particulars you know," she said, 
 " and then I can form a judgment." 
 
 So Dana bubbled on, joyously chattering out the 
 shallowness of his information, with utmost generosity : 
 it was all he had to give, and he gave it. He had 
 vindicated his memory ; he had interested Mrs. Blazer. 
 
 From what she had gathered, Mrs. Farley Blazer 
 came to the conclusion that Octavia probably knew 
 nothing of that old history ; but, for purposes of her 
 own, she assumed just the contrary when she next saw 
 the widow. She could not forgive Octavia for having 
 drawn down a mortification upon her, by urging her 
 to invite Craig to play for hire, and so putting her into 
 a position to be snubbed by the youngster. Still less 
 could she overlook the offence of bringing Josephine 
 Hobart back to Newport, to distract Lord Ilawkstane's 
 attention from Tilly. Accordingly, when Octavia came 
 to pay her dinner call, Tilly's aunt found an apt mo 
 ment for remarking casually, "Oh, my dear, what a 
 queer thing it is that you two should have met here, 
 you and the man whose wife was an old flame of your 
 husband's!" 
 
 Mrs. Gifford showed an amused surprise. "It would
 
 74 NEWPORT. 
 
 be queer," she said, calmly, " if there were any such 
 man; but there isn't. What put it into your head? 
 Whom do you mean ? ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Blazer unfolded her meaning ; but, to her cha 
 grin, it produced no shock. Octavia persisted in her 
 laughing incredulity, and ridiculed Dana Sweetser's 
 evidence. "You may be sure," she said, "that he 
 has been mixing us up with other people." And be 
 fore Mrs. Blazer saw clearly how it was done, Octavia 
 brought in another topic, and then took her leave, 
 completely uncrushed. 
 
 These things had happened before Eugene, on his 
 way to see Mrs. Gifford, stopped in at his cousin's. 
 
 "Have you heard the news?" she immediately 
 asked him. 
 
 "Yes; Major Bottick told me at the club," he an 
 swered. 
 
 Mary Deering's face became blank with astonish 
 ment. " Major Bottick ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 "Certainly; he's up in all these war matters. Of 
 course you mean about the English and the Suez 
 Canal?" 
 
 " What have I said about a canal? " inquired Mrs. 
 Deering, aggrieved. 
 
 "Oh, then you're thinking of the President's ex 
 pected visit here? " 
 
 " No, indeed," said his cousin, still more reproach 
 fully. " How dull of you ! Do you call those things 
 news? What I'm talking about is Lord Hawkstane's 
 engagement." 
 
 " Hullo ! Isn't he rather ' previous ' ? Whom is he 
 engaged to? "
 
 SOME IMPORTANT TRIFLES. 75 
 
 " Josephine Hobart." 
 
 " "Well, that has the approved stamp of news; it's 
 BO incredible. Have they announced it? " 
 
 " Not yet ; but a few of us know it. He sent her 
 the mask that he won at the hunt ; had it set in a col 
 lar of gold and surrounded with the most magnificent 
 flowers : just think of it ! Then he went up yesterday 
 to call, and, as we suppose, offered himself. He's 
 been so puffed-up and vainglorious ever since, that 
 hardl} r any one can approach him, even to offer a con 
 gratulation. So 3*ou see there's no doubt of it at all : 
 they're engaged. And it will be an awful blow to Mrs. 
 Farley Blazer !" 
 
 "I can hardly believe it yet," said Eugene. "I 
 can't see why Miss Hobart should take him. Have 
 you asked Mrs. Gifford about it? " 
 
 " No ; I've had no chance. But I intend to." 
 
 Oliphant told her that he was about to call upon the 
 widow. 
 
 "Oh, do," urged his cousin, " and then tell me what 
 you find out about the engagement. But mind you, 
 don't let her know of that letter." 
 
 "No danger," said he. "I have decided that 
 point." Before long he broke out, "By the way, 
 speaking of it's being a blow, how about young Thor- 
 burn ? If you were right in thinking he was in love 
 with Miss Hobart, this will be a bitter thing for him." 
 
 "Ah, Eugene," said Mrs. Dcering, laying her hand 
 on his arm, " save your compassion. I was mistaken 
 about that: it's Mrs. Gifford that he's after." 
 
 "Oh," said Oliphant, amazed at the ease with which
 
 76 NEWPORT. 
 
 she changed her view. " Being a woman, I suppose 
 you must know. But don't you remember how at the 
 first I thought Mrs. Gifford was his object? " 
 
 " Yes, Eugene. It must be that you have a sort of 
 feminine instinct." 
 
 "Possibly," he answered, with some dryness. "I 
 am thinking," he then said slowly, " that his courtship 
 of the widow will leave him as badly off as if he had 
 been trying to marry Miss Hobart ; provided you are 
 right as to Mrs. Gifford's being so unapproachable. 
 You recall what you said, I suppose." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "It doesn't seem to me, though, that because she 
 was so happy, before, is any reason against her at 
 tempting matrimony again. I should say her former 
 experience would work as an argument directly in favor 
 of renewing her happiness with some other worthy per 
 son, if she should by accident find one." 
 
 "I know," was Mrs. Deeriug's reply. "That's the 
 way men would look at it. But then Eugene," she 
 recommenced, with unwonted earnestness, "have you 
 noticed those clear, bright diamonds she always wears 
 in her ears? " 
 
 " I think I have, the few times I have seen her." 
 
 "Well, they're a kind of symbol," said Mrs. Deer- 
 ing, impressively. " / think they're like petrified tears ! 
 They don't attract attention, but they're always in 
 sight, as silent emblems of her loss. Yes, yes," she 
 went on and it was remarkable to Oliphant how his 
 lively and conventional little cousin was aroused and 
 thrilled by her own fantasy, "they are talismans!
 
 SOME IMPORTANT TRIFLES. 77 
 
 And until a man had got them away, or persuaded her 
 to stop wearing them, it would be no use to attempt 
 winning her." In reaching this climax, nevertheless, 
 Mary Deering, apparently overcome by the absurdity 
 of the notion, burst into a laugh. 
 
 "That will do very well as a superstition," said 
 Oliphant, smiling, although her remark had produced 
 no little effect upon him. 
 
 She sat there unheeding : one would have supposed 
 she had not heard what he said. She picked away 
 with her needle at some rosy thread which she was 
 stitching into a pattern, and the light from it threw a 
 soft reflection on her face. Can it have been that she 
 had deliberately tried to incite Oliphant to make some 
 advance towards the widow? 
 
 I only know that he grew restless. He began to 
 think it was of the highest importance to see Mrs. Gif- 
 ford immediately, as if something of great moment was 
 to be settled b}* doing so. 
 
 " I must go along," he said, rising. And in half 
 an hour he was at Octavia's door.
 
 V. 
 
 A WOMAN'S AGONY. 
 
 AT High Lawn, Oliphant was ushered into an apart- 
 meiit so prettily devised that it was like a fair 
 and open countenance. 
 
 He was conscious of having made a real advance in 
 his acquaintance with Octavia, merely by stepping into 
 this dwelling-place of hers. The room was finished 
 in holly-wood, with a dead surface, smooth like ivory, 
 but pleasanter, because it still had somewhat of the 
 freshness of a limber growth that had once swayed in 
 the breeze. Panels along the walls were filled in with 
 wine-colored silk, upon which silver thread and vari 
 colored floss were embroidered in slender lines. There 
 were low seats scattered about, covered with pale tints 
 of this wine hue and with clear sea-green ; and the 
 whole place looked above all cosey and inhabited, as if 
 its usual occupant were not afraid of its richness and 
 refinement, or at all subordinated by it, but made her 
 self at home there as in her native element. On a small 
 side-table lay some new worsted-work and a large book, 
 open at the page she had last been reading. The plan 
 of the room was slightly irregular, including near one 
 end a spacious embayed window, the panes of which 
 78
 
 A WOMAN'S AGONY. 79 
 
 were set in delicate wood-tracery, where the sunlight 
 was treasured up and some plants grew brightly. Oli- 
 phant moved thither, and while he was looking at the 
 gossamer threads of the embroidery on the wall, he 
 heard a light movement, turned, and discovered Mrs. 
 Gifford, who had come into the window-space through 
 an unnoticed doorway. So for a moment she stood 
 there against a vista of lawn slope and trees that led 
 down to the level, shining reaches of the bay ; a figure 
 full of brilliancy and gladness, that seemed to concen 
 trate in itself all the charm of the surroundings. 
 
 "You see I have come soon," he said, shaking 
 hands. " And is Miss Hobart still with you? " 
 
 She had motioned him to a chair, and had taken a 
 place for herself on a sort of huge pale-green cushion 
 which did duty as a seat. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Hobart is still here, but she has to ex 
 cuse herself to-day." 
 
 Oliphant wondered whether Josephine's invisibility 
 were due to a rapturous privacy consequent upon her 
 engagement. Just then his eye fell upon the fox's 
 head, of which he had heard so much : encircled by a 
 mass of flowers, it lifted its furry nose from a table 
 near by. 
 
 "A little trophy," said Octavia, smiling. "Lord 
 Hawkstaue sent it to Josephine. How does it strike 
 you?" 
 
 " I think I should like the flowers alone better." 
 
 " I'm glad to have you say so," she declared. " It's 
 dreadfully cruel." 
 
 " The sport? Yes, it is cruel; and it's empty, 
 emptier than that poor creature's head."
 
 80 NEWPORT. 
 
 "Of course you mean the fox's head," observed 
 Octavia, a twinkle of sarcasm in her eyes. 
 
 " Of course," he answered, laughing. 
 
 "As to the sport," said Octavia, "Josephine fol 
 lowed the hounds, and that part of it doesn't seem so 
 cruel, you know. But having the poor head served up 
 in flowers does strike me as rather savage. Hawkstane 
 got the idea from one of his American friends. He 
 never would have thought of any thing so barbarous 
 himself ; but it was suggested to him as the proper 
 way to do things here." 
 
 " Possibl}'," Oliphant contended, "his friend was 
 right. Isn't it the spirit of the place to be idly busy 
 and fill up the time with expensive nonsense? " 
 
 " Do you really think so? " she asked. 
 
 " I'm not sure that I do," he returned. " I really 
 enjoy this Newport existence. Still, I suspect it of 
 being what I just called the sport empty. There's 
 an immense amount of occupation: dressing, dining, 
 driving, show. But it becomes a routine, and there 
 doesn't seem to be any good reason for the thing. In 
 fact, I have a radical friend who declares that New 
 port is wholly un-American, and ought not to exist." 
 
 " Ah, that's the tiouble with us," Octavia remarked. 
 * ' There are so many American things that are un- 
 American." 
 
 " What's your own opinion? " Oliphant asked. 
 
 " Mine? Oh, I glory in Newport ! I'm devoted to 
 it. I don't pretend to account for mj-self , in that ; 
 but when you love a place or a person really love, 
 I mean you like the faults as well as the virtues, 
 don't you know? "
 
 A WOMAN'S AGONY. 81 
 
 " And on that basis, if there are no faults, it's just 
 so much deprivation, I suppose," said he, enlarging 
 on her theory. " But I'm afraid I made a mistake in 
 speaking so scornfully of Newport. You will con 
 demn me." 
 
 " Not at all. I like candor, though of course it 
 needn't always be put as Justin Craig put his to Mrs. 
 Blazer. What an unfortunate affair, by the way ! " 
 
 " Yes, conventionally speaking. But don't you find 
 it refreshing sometimes to have people come out with 
 exactly what they feel, even if they are a little crude 
 about it?" 
 
 "Indeed, yes." Octavia spoke quickly, and as 
 quickly added: "It depends on who the people are. 
 I like Justin very much : he's so true to himself. 
 But I remember your cousin saying and how sharp 
 she is ! that it's the same with people as with some 
 of the things we eat. When fish tastes too much like 
 fish, we don't like it, simply because we say it's ' too 
 fishy.' And so it won't do for people to be too much 
 themselves in societ}' : if they arc, they're not accept 
 able though a slight flavor of individuality is much 
 esteemed. Isn't that clever? " 
 
 " Rather so. A certain amount of deceit is neces 
 sary." 
 
 Octavia sighed, placidly. "At our age, Mr. Oli- 
 phant, one comes to recognize that principle." 
 
 " Still," Oliphant observed, "there must be excep 
 tions. Now when I meet anybody in whom I'm likely 
 to be interested, I go for clearing away all surface 
 deceits at once : I try to get down to a simple and 
 straightforward understanding as soon as possible."
 
 82 NEWPORT. 
 
 " That's the best way in those cases," said Octavia. 
 " The danger is, your frankness may be misappre 
 hended." 
 
 " Very possibly it may," he returned. " But there's 
 an instinct that tells us when it will be taken amiss. 
 I imagine, in fact I'm pretty confident, that you, for 
 instance, would be careful not to misapprehend." 
 
 She laughed, greatty at her ease : his admission that 
 he was likely to be interested in her was so ingenuous. 
 " I should try to be careful," she replied. 
 
 He recognized the position in which he had placed 
 himself. "There," he said, "you see how, the mo 
 ment we try to be sincere and direct, we become per 
 sonal. That's the reason people are so afraid of 
 sincerity : they dread being personal. I had no inten 
 tion about it, but now I find that I've been trying to 
 get this very point settled between us." 
 
 Again Octavia laughed, adding, " It seems to have 
 settled itself." And so, in truth, it had: they were 
 no longer mere acquaintances, but had made a begin 
 ning of friendship. 
 
 Oliphant now remembered his cousin's injunction to 
 find out something about the engagement. Mention 
 ing it, he asked, " May I offer my congratulations, 
 through you? " 
 
 " I haven't been empowered, Mr. Oliphant, to re 
 ceive them." 
 
 " Then the rumor isn't true, I infer." 
 
 Octavia saw fit to be mysterious. " If you want to 
 know," she counselled him, "you must go to Jose 
 phine herself, or to Lord Hawkstane."
 
 A WOMAN 1 8 AGONY. 83 
 
 " I can't very well do that," he said. 
 
 " It is queer how reports get into circulation," she 
 began. " Something has just come into my mind " 
 Then she hesitated. 
 
 " Some other rumor? " Oliphant queried. 
 
 "Yes: a ridiculous one. But it isn't worth men 
 tioning." 
 
 He was wondering what it could be, when the maid 
 entered with a letter on her salver. " Beg your par 
 don, ma'am : the man said it was to be given you right 
 away." 
 
 Octavia apologized to her caller and broke the en 
 velop, which bore a glowing gold monogram on one 
 side and a dashing superscription on the other. It 
 was a note from Perry Thorburn, asking her to drive 
 with him that afternoon. " There's no answer at 
 present: I will send one very soon," she said to the 
 maid, and laid the note in its cover on a bracket-shelf. 
 
 "Don't let me incommode you," said Oliphant, 
 rising. 
 
 "Oh, no. Wait a little. I think you are interested 
 in Justin, and I want to talk with you about him. 
 Perhaps we can get him a chance for a concert which 
 can be made fashionable, and you may be useful in 
 persuading him to it." 
 
 Oliphant resumed his place ; but she noticed, as she 
 thought, a strange look in his eyes, which had not 
 been there before the arrival of the note. The inci 
 dent brought Gifford's letter freshly up in his mind. 
 He was imagining how it would be if that letter, in 
 stead of the one with the gilt monogram, had just 
 come to her.
 
 84 NEWPOET. 
 
 " Of course," he said, "I shall be glad to do any 
 thing I can to assist Craig, especially if I please you 
 by it." 
 
 "Ah, that is very nice," said the young widow, 
 with almost girlish enjoyment. Nevertheless, they 
 were both thinking of something else than their words 
 indicated. Octavia, for her part, had been growing 
 restless over Mrs. Blazer's assertion of a former at 
 tachment between Gifford and Miss Davenant, particu 
 larly since a second rumor had come to her ears ; and 
 she was anxious to controvert it. This was what 
 really occupied her mind while she spoke so glibly of 
 Craig. "It's very nice," she repeated, inertly, once 
 more becoming aware of that look in Oliphant's eyes. 
 " But you seem to speak in a different tone now. 
 You're not enthusiastic. Are you concealing some 
 thing unfavorable ? ' ' 
 
 lie tried vainly to shake off the reserve which he 
 knew was creeping over his manner. "About Craig? 
 No ; nothing." 
 
 "At any rate," said Octavia, with unconcern, "I 
 have no right to cross-examine you. We were just 
 talking," she went on, " about frankness. If you're 
 not keeping any thing back, I confess that I am, 
 though it has nothing to do with Justin. That rumor 
 I mentioned just now that is what I'm holding in 
 reserve ; but I think I must tell you about it. You 
 will see that it's not quite pleasant to speak of ; but I 
 am annoyed by it, and want your help." 
 
 " Well, then, there's that much of good in it," 
 Qliphant answered, more at ease.
 
 A WOMAN'S AGONY. 85 
 
 She paused an instant ; then resumed, in a tone of 
 wonderful gentleness: "You asked lately, Mr. Oli- 
 phant, if I had known your wife's name." 
 
 A chill passed through him. What was coming? 
 "What had she discovered ? He merely bent his head 
 assentingly , and she continued : " It was a coincidence 
 that you should have asked me that question, because 
 of something else that came up soon afterwards." 
 
 "Indeed?" he said, his apprehensiveness increas 
 ing. 
 
 Octavia betrayed embarrassment. "Yes; it was 
 hinted to me that Mr. Giffbrd had known Miss Dave- 
 nant and had been an admirer of hers a devoted 
 admirer, in fact, before he and I had met." Here she 
 smiled, perhaps from nervousness ; but Oliphant re 
 mained gravely silent, waiting to hear more. " Of 
 course," she added, "as Mr. Gifford never had spoken 
 to me of her, the notion seemed improbable ; but now 
 there has been a second rumor, and this time it is said 
 that you know all about the history. I hope you will 
 pardon me %for mentioning it : you can guess that I 
 never would do so unless I thought there was a duty 
 involved. The gossips have no right to be inventing 
 tales about those two who have gone. I thought you 
 ought to know how your name is being used ; and 
 really it is for both our interests to stop such idle talk, 
 don't you think?" 
 
 The gentleness in her voice had insensibly increased, 
 until the words flowed like the notes of distant music : 
 the tone was subdued, verging upon tremulousness. 
 Both she who spoke and he who listened were thrilled
 
 86 NEWPORT. 
 
 by one chord of memories solemn and sweet, though 
 to Oliphant it brought an after-tone of endless repin 
 ing. 
 
 "Who would have thought," he mused aloud, not 
 answering her questions at once, "that we who did 
 not know of one another's existence, a few days ago, 
 should so soon be speaking of things that lie nearest 
 to us? I think it shows that there ought to be 
 confidence between us. And now in regard to j'our 
 question, Mrs. Gifford, I quite agree that our inter 
 ests coincide ; we want to stop the chatterers. I 
 suggest that the best way is to ignore them." 
 
 "That's easily said," Octavia objected; "but I 
 can't do it unless you help me. You see, they are 
 quoting you." 
 
 She gazed at him with a certain innocent confi 
 dence, against which a vague inquiry contended. It 
 was evident to Oliphant that she counted upon him 
 to deny the rumor, and so assist her to a triumph ; 
 and it gave him a poignant regret that he could not 
 do this. 
 
 "What have you heard as to my knowledge ?" he 
 ji quired, still dallying. 
 
 "It's hardly worth while to go into that," she re 
 plied, " unless you really know something. But tell 
 me ; there is no truth in the report, is there? " 
 
 Oliphant was in a pitiable dilemma. "Are you not 
 troubling yourself needlessly?" he said, in perplexity. 
 " I am not responsible for all this. If you compel me, 
 I suppose I must admit that there is ground for what 
 has been said ; but it is wiser to let it rest."
 
 A WOMAN'S AGONY. 87 
 
 That is impossible," declared Octavia, becoming 
 imperious. "I want to put the whole thing down; 
 and, in the form which it has taken, that can be done 
 only by positive denial." 
 
 " I see that my doctrine of candor is being put to a 
 terrible test," he interposed, attempting to take a light 
 tone, although really in consternation. 
 
 " Mr. Oliphant," said she, " I must know whatever 
 you have to tell me. Is it not my right? " 
 
 " Undoubtedly, if you choose to assert it. But, after 
 all, I have little to tell." 
 
 "You have no disproof" she hesitated " 01 
 proof?" 
 
 " I have a letter ; that's all." 
 
 Octavia did not respond. She withdrew into her 
 self ; her eyes sank. Oliphant fancied that she shud 
 dered. 
 
 " A letter from Mr. Gifford? " she then asked, look 
 ing straight at him. 
 
 " Yes ; a letter to my wife, before she became my 
 wife." He met her eyes, and tried to appear as if he 
 attached slight importance to his statement. 
 
 "All," she scarcely more than whispered, " it was 
 something of that sort that I heard." 
 
 "You heard of the letter, too! " he cried, hotly. 
 " Then some one must have been guilty of treachery." 
 
 " What else could you expect, if you told any 
 one?" the widow inquired, as icy as he was the 
 opposite. But her eyes were not cold : their luminous 
 depths were softened by a look of tender pleading. 
 
 " I have not told. I beg you to believe "
 
 88 NEWPORT. 
 
 " I will believe nothing that you say I ought not," 
 she interrupted with dignity. 
 
 " Very well. What has become known is due to an 
 accident. I cannot even comprehend how you have 
 been spoken to as } - ou have." Oliphant rose, and, 
 moving a pace or two, drew his gloves impatiently 
 through one hand, knitting his brows in bewilderment 
 and vexation. " It's wrong, it's unfair," he muttered, 
 " that this should be brought upon me." 
 
 Octavia changed her mood as instinctively as one 
 might in improvising upon a sympathetic instrument. 
 " Oh, well, we ought not to distress ourselves," she 
 said ; though Oliphant knew perfectly well that she 
 was suffering keenly. "Why shouldn't Mr. Gifford 
 have written to Miss Davenant, if he pleased ? I dare 
 say it quite passed out of his mind afterwards ; and 
 that is what makes it seem so odd that we should only 
 now be discovering their acquaintance. The whole 
 thing is simple enough." 
 
 " Certainly ; quite simple," Oliphant rejoined, 
 grasping at a chance of escape that promised so well. 
 He was dumbfounded by the rapid and conflicting turns 
 through which he was being led, but made a manful 
 effort to keep his balance. " I'm glad you don't give 
 it too much consequence," he ended. 
 
 " Only I shall want to see the letter, you know," 
 she suddenly reminded him, with a gracious smile, but 
 looking very determined. Her head was bent a trifle 
 sidewise, and she gave him a long, steady glance, 
 which was like a sharpshooter's in taking aim. 
 
 Then Oliphant recognized that it would be futile to
 
 A WOMAN'S AGO NT, 89 
 
 hold out any longer. "It shall be as you like," he 
 said. " Only let me say that no one else has read the 
 letter." 
 
 " So much the better. Have you it here?" 
 
 "In Newport? Yes: I can send it to you." He 
 could not face the ordeal of handing it to her in 
 person. 
 
 "Thanks. Very soon, too, I hope. Could you let 
 me have it to-day ? You will understand my eagerness 
 to see any thing that my husband wrote." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I understand." He pitied her from the 
 bottom of his heart, as he stood there looking down at 
 her. Did she see the compassion in his eyes, I won 
 der? Why could she not comprehend his reluctance 
 to give her pain ; and why could she not let him judge 
 what was best for her peace of mind? 
 
 What a beautiful picture of grace and contentment 
 she made in that charming room, with its embroideries 
 and sunlight and delicate colors ! What a picture of a 
 smiling and unruffled life her face suggested ! And 
 here was Oliphant compelled to bring disturbance and 
 disaster into the scene, through no fault of his own ; 
 kno^ng well that when he next beheld her there would 
 be a change that things could not remain the same 
 after she should have seen the letter. "You shall have 
 it in half an hour," he said. Then, instead of going 
 at once, he paused. "I hope you will not misjudge 
 me in this matter. I can explain more, perhaps, by 
 and by. But would you mind letting me know who it 
 was that brought you the reports ? ' ' 
 
 "I'd rather not, now, Mr. Oliphant. Let us leave
 
 90 NEWPORT. 
 
 that till afterwards, too ; but I will try to think that 
 you are not to blame." 
 
 And so, with the friendly smile she gave him in 
 parting, he made a barren effort to solace himself as 
 he drove away. Wondering how Mary Deering could 
 have been so reckless as to circulate the story of the 
 letter for he supposed that it must have come from 
 her he mechanically put his hand into the inner 
 pocket where he had been carrying the vexatious little 
 paper burden ; but it was no longer there ! Where to 
 begin the search for it he could not decide ; but as he 
 was near Mrs. Deering's, he ordered the coachman to 
 stop at her house, resolving at least to investigate her 
 conduct. He re-appeared in the small parlor in a 
 stormy mood ; questioning and accusing his cousin 
 and denouncing people in general. She persisted in 
 asserting her innocence ; and he went his way again 
 within five minutes, a dim hope that he might have left 
 the letter in another coat lending haste to his move 
 ments. His anxiety increased every instant, until he 
 reached the Queen Anne cottage and, dashing up 
 stairs, entered his room. There, surely enough, he 
 found the momentous letter slumbering in a coat^which 
 he had not had on for two days. Not until he had 
 enclosed it and sent it away by a paid messenger did 
 the ugly surmise enter his mind that his occult and 
 ubiquitous host, Raish, might have played the spy, 
 coming upon this document during some one of his 
 own absences from the room. 
 
 When Octavia received the long envelope, she was 
 still in her pretty holly-wood drawing-room. Not a
 
 A WOMAN'S AGONY. 91 
 
 tford of comment accompanied the enclosure, and, 
 tearing off the cover, she instantly scanned the con 
 tents. 
 
 Unnoticed, the yellow sheet fell to the floor, when 
 she hod read the last words. For whatever purpose 
 circumstance and the power above circumstance had 
 preserved it, it had done its work. 
 
 Octavia remained passive for some time in her chair, 
 gazing blankly before her. When she finally stirred, 
 it was as a somnambulist might have done : she moved 
 from one part of the room to another, unconsciously, 
 with hands knotted together and knuckles pressed 
 backward against her smooth forehead. Heat at its 
 utmost becomes white, like numb, chill snow : was it 
 by a similar transformation that the burning agony in 
 her brain now seemed not to burn at all, but to be 
 freezing her into insensibility ? A curious effect, this. 
 She began to wonder at it ; she had a wild inclination 
 to laugh ; but with that desire a clearer sense of her 
 misery awoke. " What right had he to send me this ? " 
 she moaned. " What have I done, to be so crushed? 
 and he a mere acquaintance, a stranger ! It's 
 unbearable ; yes, it's a crime ! And I shall never, 
 never " her voice sank to a whisper more ominous 
 than even the dreary wail that had preceded " never 
 forgive it." 
 
 Ah, if she could have wept then ! But the fountains 
 of her life were choked ; a parched desert seemed to 
 spread itself all around her and within. 
 
 Turning away, she strayed slowly down the room 
 again ; this time looking closely at one object after
 
 92 NEWPORT. 
 
 another : at the opaline glass of the chandelier, at a 
 rotund porcelain Buddha contemplating with his fat 
 face a Spanish navoja six times his own length, and 
 at the fox's head, which she could almost believe 
 returned a sardonic gleam of intelligence. Every thing 
 was strange, as if she had never been in the room 
 before. Finally, she came to the table where her 
 fancy-work and the open book lay. The volume was 
 a sumptuous one, suggesting leisure, elegance, peace ; 
 and her eye rested on these words : 
 
 "The Heart is a garden, and youth is its Spring, 
 and Hope is its sunshine, and Love is a thorny plant 
 that springs up and bears one bright blossom that has 
 nothing like it in all the world." 
 
 " Oh no, no, no ! " she said aloud,, not with protest, 
 but with scorn. "That isn't true. It isn't a thorny 
 plant, but only a weak and miserable weed, with a 
 black, deadly blossom. The ' heart is a garden,' you 
 say but what if there's nothing but grave-dust in the 
 garden? Oh, why do they write so of love? Why 
 should we be fooled with this sort of thing, and be 
 brought up on it, when it's all a lie ! " 
 
 Again her hands were locked ; she sank upon a 
 couch ; she was shaken by her rage against fate, as 
 the air is made to quiver with visible heat in the fur 
 nace of summer. 
 
 . Every thing on which she had built her happiest 
 faiths was swept away at one blow. She had believed 
 that her husband had never loved any one before ; but 
 she could never again be sure that he had really loved 
 her at all. Perhaps she had been to him only the sol-
 
 A WOMAN'S AGONY. . 93 
 
 ace of a concealed disappointment. Her own pride 
 was wounded : she was angry at her husband, impalpa- 
 ole shade though he was, because he had hidden this 
 thing, had left her to be humiliated and to question 
 where his heart's deepest fealty had been given. Yet 
 at the same moment her pride on his behalf was stirred 
 up against Oliphant, because he knew of Gifford's 
 rejection by another woman. 
 
 "I shall go mad, if I think of it!" she groaned. 
 A spasm of unearthly jealousy seized her : Gifford 
 had passed away to another world, and Alice Oliphant 
 had gone thither, also. " He is mine ! " Octavia mut 
 tered passionately, with a force as if she were calling 
 to some one far away. ' ' We were to meet there ; be 
 cause the fable is that love is everlasting. Have they 
 met instead ? ' ' And as the shadow of her love and 
 wrath loomed up distorted on the mist that veils all 
 life beyond us, she trembled for her sanity ; the pros 
 pect grew so dark, she began so to doubt of heaven 
 itself. 
 
 In the midst of this horrible turmoil, she rose, crossed 
 the floor, and mechanicall}' picked up the fallen letter. 
 That petty precaution brought her back to self-control. 
 
 She was hungry for action. Something definite must 
 be done. She must find a relief, a compensation, for 
 the strain she had undergone. Should it take the form 
 of revenge? A plan flitted through her brain, and she 
 adopted it instantly ; but, whatever it was, the lirst 
 steps did not suggest any thing like danger. 
 
 Ringing the bell for her maid, "Take away that fox's 
 head," she commanded,-" and don't let me see it again,
 
 94 NEWPORT. 
 
 And come back immediately : I shall have a note to 
 send." 
 
 Seated at her writing-table in the embayed window, 
 she dashed off not one note, but two. The first was to 
 Perry Thorburn, accepting his invitation to drive, two 
 hours later. "Mr. Oliphant shall see, at any rate, 
 that I'm not crushed," she declared aloud. The sec 
 ond note consisted of a few lines to Oliphant himself, 
 thanking him for his promptness in gratifying her 
 wish, and saying that, if he would call soon, she would 
 like to speak with him further. 
 
 Thereupon she consulted the lozenge-shaped mirror 
 that hung in velvet on the wall ; and the mirror gal 
 lantly sustained her : instead of the lines of distress 
 which had so recently shown in her face, it revealed a 
 triumphant energy. No ; in all this there was nothing 
 to alarm a possible observer. Yet any one who knew 
 Octavia well might have thought her too determined to 
 be safe ; and there was a hard glitter about those sym 
 bols of her widowhood, the diamonds at her ears.
 
 VI. 
 
 DEWDROPS AND DIAMONDS. 
 
 THE weather was delicious ; brilliant yet soft, and 
 full of that vague, lulling enchantment which is the 
 peculiar virtue of the Newport air. The sun shone, 
 but not in a downright, uncultured way, such as might 
 be obnoxious to polite sensibilities : you were conscious 
 of it rather as a diffused exhalation of pale golden 
 mist, a celestial form of the grosser golden mist that 
 was floating about in the minds of the people who 
 moved under its radiance, in the holiday part of the 
 town. I have no doubt the wealthy ones among them 
 were gratified that the sun so well understood its place 
 and behaved with such very proper deference ; others, 
 whose slender purses enabled them only to cling to the 
 edge of the show, dilated their chests and absolutely 
 enjoyed a passing illusion that they were rich. It was 
 one of those days when a south-west breeze, streaming 
 over the island in a steady succession of bluff gusts 
 makes you feel as if you were standing on a quarter 
 deck a deck neatly carpeted with verdant lawns, em 
 bowered in trees, and thickly encumbered with villas, 
 a few of which are more like small palaces. Yes, the 
 wind pats your face in a vigorous, companionable 
 
 95
 
 96 NEWPORT. 
 
 manner that flatters you with the idea that you are an 
 old salt, and know all about it, and can stand any 
 amount of exposure as long as the grass is dry and 
 your nice clothes are not spoiled, and your pleasant 
 club is near at hand. You even murmur to yourself 
 something about " The Bay of Biscay, O ; " and then 
 you think of distant places, all the balmy and romantic 
 coasts and islands from which this breeze has come; 
 and the name of far Cathay forms itself lazily on your 
 lips. At least, this was the case with Oliphant, when 
 he came out into the air again, to fulfil an engagement 
 he had made. He had accepted a maternal sort of 
 invitation from Mrs. Farley Blazer, to drive with her. 
 This poor/)ld ogress was rather lonely in her splendor ; 
 and as the girls were driving with other people that 
 day, she wanted a companion. Besides, she may have 
 had some faint design of marrying Oliphant to the 
 elder niece, if nothing better could be done. Her 
 foreign policy had had in view alliances with England 
 and France, or possibly Italy : if such an international 
 concert could be established, her own position would 
 be made more secure. But she was discouraged, just 
 now, as to Tilly's capturing Lord Hawkstane, unless 
 the reported engagement with Miss Hobart should 
 come to nothing ; and there was beginning to be some 
 danger that Ruth would not get married at all ; in 
 which event even so humble a match as Oliphant might 
 be worth considering. Of course he had no suspicion 
 of such an absurdity ; and as I have said, he thought 
 of far Cathay, while the breeze wafted aside his trou 
 bled mood regarding Octavia. He surrendered himself
 
 DEWDROPS AND DIAMONDS. 97 
 
 to the scented indolence and poppied ease of Newport, 
 as being more easily attainable than Cathay, and in all 
 likelihood pleasanter ; meanwhile rolling along in Mrs. 
 Blazer's chariot, which was like a hugh bath-tub on 
 wheels. 
 
 Morning at Newport is a disorganized period, in 
 which the general gathering at the Casino about midday 
 is the most definite incident. Strangers wander about 
 uneasily ; now and then a dashing equipage speeds 
 along Bellevue Avenue, or a hired victoria creeps lan 
 guidly through that thoroughfare. The coachmen and 
 footmen attached to the dashing equipages glide rigidly 
 onward in their appointed places ; the grooms jump 
 up or down, open doors, and fold their arms, with all 
 the precision of trained monkeys ; their yellow-topped 
 boots, many-buttoned liveries and " bug "-adorned hats 
 increasing the likeness. There are also a good many 
 young men on the street who bear a close resemblance 
 to these hired attendants : their dress, though different, 
 is just as artificial, and the}' are just as much bound to 
 conduct themselves according to an arbitrary fashion. 
 It is the height of luxury for human beings who have 
 the requisite means to distort other human beings who 
 take care of their horses and carriages, on the same 
 principle that once made it the fashion at European 
 courts to keep dwarfs, who had been specially stunted 
 and twisted to meet the demand. The young men of 
 the avenue, finding no one else to distort them, have 
 to do it for themselves. They are debarred from be 
 coming lackeys, but they enjoy all the appearance of 
 being employed on salaries to make themselves absurd.
 
 98 NEWPORT. 
 
 There they go, trotting about in their small, tight- 
 waisted cutaways, or in long-tailed Incroyable coats, 
 that give them a playful likeness to moths of an exag 
 gerated size. Their shoulders are held awkwardly for 
 ward ; the}* lift their tight little legs and stamp their 
 small, uncomfortable shoes down on the pavement with 
 studied over-earnestness, producing a startling imita 
 tion of pei sons who really have a purpose in going 
 somewhere. They cling each one to a small cane, with 
 a certain desperate tenacity that makes you suspect it 
 is a sort of perch, to which the}* have grown accus 
 tomed in the cage where they served their apprentice 
 ship. But what are we talking about? Are not these 
 little creatures men ? Most assuredly they wear that 
 painful look of experience so carefully assumed by an 
 order of animals nearly approaching man ; and we 
 must give them the benefit of the doubt. 
 
 During the forenoon large covered wagons, with 
 romantic names sprawled along their sides, the 
 Amarintha, the Margarita, the Madeline, had 
 proudly caracoled through the streets, carrying a 
 motley freight of people still ignorant and innocent 
 enough to ride down to Easton's Beach for a surge- 
 bath ; but now these lordly vehicles, their brief hour 
 of triumph having passed, withdrew into obscurity, 
 giving way to the veritable curule aristocracy. The 
 little creatures, also, with their tight legs and tiny 
 sticks and slender coat-tails, made haste either to get 
 places in the driving throng, or to ensconce themselves 
 on the reading-room veranda or in the Casino Club 
 windows, where they could view the procession with 
 placid superiority.
 
 DEWDEOPS AND DIAMONDS. 99 
 
 Gradually the soft crushing of wheels and the tap 
 ping sound of delicately stepping horses, which had at 
 first been intermittent, merged into a continuous, sub 
 dued whir : the main part of Bellevue Avenue and 
 broad, old-time Kay Street, with its sober mansions 
 and retired-looking cottages, were filled by an un 
 broken stream of moving carriages. The sunlight 
 glinted on the polished harness metal and abundant 
 varnish of tilbury s, dog-carts, landaus, gigs ; and even 
 basket- wagons were to be seen here and there, swim 
 ming along in the black, glittering tide. Quisbrough 
 and Judge Malachi Hixon, sitting democratically on 
 the long piazza of the Ocean House, the Judge with 
 his hat and chair both tipped comfortably back and his 
 feet entangled in the railing, observed the proces 
 sion. Mary Deering was out in her village-cart, driv 
 ing Atlce, who surveyed the scene with such perfection 
 of acquired gravity that his very eye-glass seemed to 
 cast a shadow over every thing. Soon afterwards they 
 saw Congressman Overblow jolting along on the back 
 seat of a T-cart, while his enormous spouse occupied a 
 place in front beside the hook-nosed gentleman who 
 was directing the horse. Overblow smoked a very 
 large cigar and appeared to think that he was in the 
 height of the style. On went the cavalcade. Vivian 
 Ware had chosen to make herself conspicuous by ap 
 pearing on horseback, attended by Count Fitz-Stuart; 
 and Justin Craig, who was strolling along the sidewalk 
 in his loose, dowdy apparel, on the lookout for her, 
 did not even receive a nod from the fair face under 
 the tall hat. Jospehine Hobart Unshed by in company
 
 100 NEWPORT. 
 
 with a young man who appeared to be greatly devot -4 
 to her, but left on the minds of spectators, as he 
 skimmed the edge of the crowd, only the impression 
 of a long red mustache flying through the air. There 
 was no occasion for remark in her being with him, for 
 everybody knew him as Roland De Peyster, whose 
 ambition it was to secure for his tilbury more pretty 
 girls in the season than should fall to the lot of any 
 other young bachelor ; but he had no intention of lav 
 ishing his great fortune on any single damsel. "I 
 can't marry, you know," he would sometimes say. 
 '" It would turn the head of the best girl I could pick ; 
 so I try to preserve them in all their perfection as they 
 are." 
 
 There were many lovely women in the procession, 
 and many bows and smiles were exchanged ; but there 
 were likewise hidden animosities and heart-burnings 
 lurking under the gay costumes and flowers of the 
 women and the reticent coats of the men. Sundry 
 youths of the most eligible pattern had failed to secure 
 desirable partners for the course, and drove in solitary 
 grandeur. Raish Porter was also alone, but he looked 
 the personification of contentment ; his penetrating 
 eyes took in every thing, but his bearded, hearty face 
 gave him the air of an indulgent master of the ceremo 
 nies, a person who watched the machinery and helped 
 to keep it going for the benefit of others. Quisbrough 
 pointed out to Judge Hixou Mrs. IJallard Mole, a de 
 voted churchwoman, who was airing the Bishop of 
 Alaska in a heavy barouche, presided over by two 
 servants in deep black, with wrinkled black gloves and
 
 DEWDROPS AND DIAMONDS. 101 
 
 equally wrinkled visages, doleful as those of hived 
 mourners. But just as he had done so, the inane 
 tooting of a horn was heard ; and the four-in-hand* of 
 Colonel Clancy lumbered into view, bearing on its high 
 back a large party who appeared to have fled to that 
 eminence in order to escape some threatened inunda 
 tion. They were closely pursued by the Baron de 
 Huyneck, the Austrian ambassador ; and a stout indi 
 vidual not far behind, who might have been taken for 
 a prosperous old-clothes dealer from Chatham Street, 
 turned out to be Rustuffi Bey, representative of the 
 Sublime Porte. It was natural enough that Mrs. 
 Farley Blazer should happen to pass at about the 
 same time with the other diplomatists ; but it may be 
 be imagined how insignificant Oliphant must have felt 
 in such a train. Still, he was permitted something of 
 that awful joy which small boys on the outside of a 
 circus experience in peeping under some lifted fold of 
 the tent. He knew he had not paid his share for the 
 performance, but he was getting the benefit of it, all 
 the same. Millions of dollars, and various things 
 besides, had been contributed by the others. Trade, 
 law, religion, social ambition, politics, honor, possi 
 bly dishonor, thrift and idleness, were all in that 
 stream ; and those who stood for such diverse interests 
 had probabl}* scrificed a good deal in order to join the 
 rout. What power was it. mightier than horses' legs, 
 that drew them on, and whither were they drifting?. 
 That was what the atom Oliphant inwardly inquired ; 
 and in the thickest part of the press he was suddenly 
 reminded of an engraving after Boulanger, which he
 
 102 NEWPORT. 
 
 had noticed in the house of a friend. It depicted the 
 A p plan Way crowded with chariots and litters, fleet 
 Nubian slaves and fashionable idlers and beautiful 
 women, at the time of Rome's greatest luxur} 7 , before 
 the fall. No doubt the architecture and the costumes 
 were very different, but there was an element of same 
 ness in the pictured scene and this real one : here, too, 
 were the reigning beauties and the handsome, selfish 
 young men and the slaves the last from Britannia 
 and Hibernia, instead of Nubia, and wearing more 
 than the simple waist-cloth that satisfied Rome. And 
 might not Overblow, with his big cigar, take the place 
 of Boulanger's bull-necked senator? Oliphant laughed 
 at the burlesque truth in his fancy. What he saw be 
 fore him, after all, was only a parody upon the Roman 
 scene ; a modern comic opera, mounted at great ex 
 pense and ridiculing the old notion that luxur}* implies 
 decadence. 
 
 " What are you laughing at? " Mrs. Blazer asked, 
 coming out of a brief pre-occupation. " Oh, I see," 
 she added, immediately : " you recognize 3 r our friends." 
 
 In fact, as she put her question, Oliphant was taking 
 off his hat to Octavia, who, enthroned upon a high 
 seat with Thorburn, swept by them in the neighboring 
 line of carriages, going the other way. Her face was 
 radiant, and she gave him an enchanting smile and 
 bow. Then he saw her no more. 
 
 "No," said Oliphant, becoming almost grave; "I 
 was laughing at an ancient joke a joke at least two 
 thousand years old." 
 
 " Ah," baid the matron, " that was before my time. 
 What can it be?"
 
 DEWDROPS AND DIAMONDS. 103 
 
 " The joke of thinking society is serious." 
 
 "I wish I could see the fuu iu that," Mrs. Blazer 
 observed. 
 
 " So do I," returned Oliphant ; " for if you did you 
 might be happier." And the smile came back to his 
 lips. 
 
 We need not be deceived by his tone. At that 
 instant he was by no means in a jocose mood ; and, in 
 fact, if he and Octavia had leaned from their carriages 
 as the}* passed, and had wountled each other with ra 
 piers, the encounter could not have been more startling 
 than it proved for both of them. 
 
 He was amazed to see her abroad at all ; especially to 
 see her so apparently contented. Although he had not 
 wanted her to suffer, it shocked him that she should so 
 easily surmount the pain she must have felt ; and pos 
 sibly he was thwarted in some unconscious scheme of 
 acting as a consoler. Add to this that her being with 
 Thorburn, and the possibility that the heavily gilded 
 youth might be making headway in his suit for her 
 hand, quickened the sentiment already smouldering in 
 Oliphant's breast. From the ashes in his heart an 
 impassioned envy, a new hope, broke like a spurt of 
 flame. 
 
 Octavia, in turn, was horrified that he should openly 
 parade in Mrs. Blazer's company. What did all his 
 protestations of strict concealment amount to, weighed 
 jiirninst his presence there with the woman who had 
 first hinted to her the gossip concerning Gifford's 
 former attachment to Miss Davenant? Octavia be 
 lieved strongly in feminine intuitions, particularly when
 
 104 NEWPORT. 
 
 she was constructing an opinion of her own. She saw 
 it all now ; she was positive that Oliphaiit had weakly 
 allowed Mrs. Blazer to extract the whole history from 
 him. The bitterness of this thought, stinging her 
 mind even as she bowed to him, had a peculiar result : 
 it caused her to throw additional sweetness into her 
 smile. 
 
 "Who is that Oliphant, any way?" inquired the 
 blonde young Croesus at her side, as they drove along. 
 " Seems to me, if any fcan could reasonably claim the 
 right to be jealous about you, there would be some 
 cause for alarm, just now. I think Mr. Oliphant will 
 be fulling in love with you in about two twos from 
 the present moment or say in one shake of a ram's 
 tail." 
 
 " Perry," said Octavia, " if you expect to talk with 
 me, you really must correct your slang. But what 
 makes you think that about Mr. Oliphant? " 
 
 "Oh, the way he looked at you. How can I tell 
 what makes me think it, anyhow? Let's talk about 
 Josephine. You say that her father really insists on 
 her going back to Jamestown. How soon? " 
 
 "In a few days, at the outside. He's inexorable." 
 
 The young man looked meditative. " Well, what 
 am I to do?" he began, after a pause. "I hardly 
 dare to venture on speaking to her so soon. Would 
 you advise me to? " 
 
 " My friend," said Octavia, " is any one ever old 
 enough to advise in such matters? Besides, you 
 know" here the young widow slightly tossed back 
 her head and laughed aloud, so that the short white
 
 DEWDROPS AND DIAMONDS. 105 
 
 veil that scarcely touched her lips was shaken by the 
 merriment " she's supposed to be engaged to Lord 
 Ilawkstane ! " 
 
 People in the neighboring carriages, though they 
 could not distinguish what she said, heard her laugh 
 ring out, and turned to look at the white throat, swell 
 ing like a song-bird's, at the trim figure, the dainty 
 costume, the roses blooming in her corsage. 
 
 "The devil!" exclaimed Thorburn. "I beg par 
 don; but that's hardly slang, because because the 
 devil is eminently the proper thing nowadays. Is it 
 positively true, though, about Josephine and Ilawk- 
 Btane?" 
 
 I regret to say that the clatter of harness and hoofs 
 and the crunching of wheels made Octavia's reply in 
 audible. 
 
 By this time Mrs. Blazer and Oliphant were far 
 away in the opposite direction, and were entering upon 
 the road that leads to Castle Hill ; but they had con 
 tinued to converse about the two people we have just 
 been listening to. 
 
 "You knew Mrs. Gifford before, I believe," re 
 marked Mrs. Blazer. 
 
 " Before when? No ; I never saw her until I came 
 to Newport." 
 
 . " But Mr. Gifford was acquainted with your wife, I 
 hear." 
 
 " What ! " cried Oliphant. " You have found it out, 
 too? I wonder if there is anybody left in Newport 
 who hasn't been told of that interesting circumstance." 
 
 "I imagine it is known to very few," said Mrs.
 
 106 NEWPORT. 
 
 Blazer quietly, with a rather wicked glimmer in her 
 weary eyes, peering out from the dull, white face. 
 
 "Seriously, then," he resumed, "will you tell me 
 from whom you learned it? " 
 
 Mrs. Blazer attempted pleasantry. " You were just 
 saying, Mr. Oliphant, that it's foolish to take society 
 au s6rieux." 
 
 " Well, I suppose it is. But I'm not a society 
 man ; and this is not a public matter, you assure me, 
 though it had begun to seem like one when you men 
 tioned it." 
 
 " Don't you remember," she resumed, " that I told 
 you how Mr. Sweetser knew all about you? " 
 
 "Ah, it was from him, was it? But he couldn't 
 have known of the ' ' Oliphant was on the point of 
 saying "the letter." He made a new approach. 
 " One question occurs to me : have you spoken of this 
 to Mrs. Gifford, at all?" 
 
 " Mrs. Gifford? Why, that would be the most nat 
 ural thing in the world, wouldn't it? Yes, I think 
 I did say something." How artlessly Mrs. Blazer an 
 swered ! 
 
 " I'm exceedingly sorry. I don't think you should 
 have done it," said he, biting his lip. 
 
 " If I had had any idea it could annoy } T OU," the 
 lady replied, benignly, "of course I wouldn't have 
 uttered a word." 
 
 "Do you consider it strange that I should be an 
 noyed? Perhaps it isn't necessary for me to go into 
 the reasons why I am. But I really shall have to ask 
 you how much you may have said to Mrs. Gifford."
 
 DEWDROPS AND DIAMONDS. 107 
 
 " What a singular question ! You seem to be dis 
 turbed, Mr. Oliphant. Well, I'll tell you : I hardly 
 said more to Mrs. Gifford than I have to you." 
 
 "Your answer is as strange as my question," said 
 Oliphant. He was at a loss to guess how Octavia had 
 been apprised that there was a letter, if it had not been 
 through Mrs. Blazer. Then, reverting to the possi 
 bility that Kaish had found out something, " Did your 
 information," he inquired, "come only from Mr. 
 Sweetser? " 
 
 "From whom else should you imagine?" Mrs. 
 Blazer retorted. " Of course he was my informant." 
 
 ' ' The only one ? ' ' Oliphant fixed his eyes upon her. 
 
 His companion shifted the position of her parasol 
 by a point or two, and bowed in her grand manner to 
 the Baron de Huyneck, who had made a turn and was 
 coming back. " Dear me," she replied, languidly, "I 
 know very little about this affair. I only mentioned it 
 because it happened to come into my head. I thought 
 it might make conversation." 
 
 "And so it did," Oliphant answered. "I have 
 been put in a disagreeable position of late, by this very 
 thing, because some one has spoken of what I had 
 supposed was to be guarded sacredly. You will greatly 
 oblige me if you will give me a direct reply." 
 
 "I'm sorry to refuse," said Mrs. Blazer, "but I 
 cannot see why I should be mixed up with it, any 
 way." 
 
 Oliphant's suspicion was strengthened by her beha 
 vior. The conviction that it was Mrs. Blazer who had 
 carried every thing to Octavia, and the belief that she
 
 108 NEWPORT. 
 
 had purposely inveigled him into public companionship 
 with her, mortified and enraged him. He laid his hand 
 on the lever of the carriage door. 
 
 " What are you going to do? " demanded the owner 
 of the carriage, in alarm. 
 
 " I'm going to take my leave, and walk back," said 
 he. 
 
 "Oh, don't! don't!" she exclaimed. "You will 
 kill yourself ! Wait a moment. Andreas," she called 
 to the coachman, " stop here : we are going to turn." 
 
 "Thanks," said Oliphant. "You mustn't incon 
 venience yourself ; I prefer to get down." He already 
 had the door open, and, as Andreas reined in the 
 horses, he placed his foot on the step. "You have 
 nothing more to tell me?" he queried, looking up at 
 her with hostile fixity. 
 
 "Nothing," declared Mrs. Blazer, and firmly con 
 tracted those uneasy lips of hers. At this, Oliphant 
 sprang to the ground. 
 
 "Drive on, Andreas," Mrs. Blazer commanded; 
 and, while Oliphant lifted his hat with grim ceremony, 
 the impressive bath-tub on wheels started forward 
 again, its occupant settling herself to face the sea- 
 breeze alone. 
 
 He strode along the highway in a fierce temper. 
 All the soft serenity of the afternoon did not avail 
 to soothe him ; and when he regained the sidewalk 
 of Bellevue Avenue, where the well-bred rumble and 
 clatter of the polished turn-outs were still going on, 
 the sight of that respectable pageant redoubled his 
 disgust. " What a fool I am," he muttered, " to care
 
 DEWDEOPS AND DIAMONDS. 109 
 
 about all this ! Why do I bother myself about Mrs. 
 Gifford, and why can't I just look on and amuse my 
 self with the mock-Roman Newport holiday? Or else, 
 why don't I get away from here at once, and leave the 
 whole thing behind me?" But something told him he 
 could not go; it was too late; he had been trapped, 
 fascinated, he hardly knew how. The rest of the 
 world looked strangely empty, as he imagined himself 
 going out into it again. Desolate though it had been 
 to him before, he had not conceived until this instant 
 that it could seem quite so vacant. 
 
 All at once Octavia appeared before him a second 
 time, not as a vision, but as a delightful reality. 
 Thorburn had decided to take the Ocean drive, and 
 they had changed their direction according!}-. Away 
 they flew, and Oliphant had only time enough for a 
 glimpse of her. lie thought her absorbed in conver 
 sation with Perry ; too much so, indeed. lie did not 
 know that they were still talking more or less directly 
 about Josephine Hobart ; nor was he aware that they 
 had both observed him and exchanged comments at 
 his re-appearance on foot, so soon after they had seen 
 him with Mrs. Blazer. 
 
 " I swear ! " observed Perry. " Came back on pur 
 pose to see you." 
 
 "Nonsense," said Octavia. "He has forgotten 
 something he had to do ; or perhaps Mrs. Blazer only 
 took him up by chance, for a little way." 
 
 Her heart fluttered, thougli she saw no reason for its 
 doing so ; and, bending her head as if to keep the 
 wind off her face, she avoided meeting Oliphant's
 
 110 NEWPORT. 
 
 gaze. As for him, he proceeded on his way still more 
 disconsolately ; and when he came opposite the Casino 
 entrance, the desii'e to get out of sight and be quiet 
 moved him to pass into the deserted enclosure. 
 
 Another unhappy lover had gone in there, just a 
 little before in fact, our friend Justin Craig ; and 
 the two met, not many paces from the Clock-Tower. 
 Oliphant observed that the young musician looked 
 peculiarly excited, as he came forward. " See here, 
 what I have found ! " cried Justin, stretching forth his 
 hand. 
 
 As Oliphant had passed the ticket-taker's window, 
 he had caught sight of a white paper on the wall, an 
 nouncing the loss of a lady's diamond pin, for the 
 recovery of which a large reward was offered. What 
 Justin now disclosed in his artistic palm was appar 
 ently the very jewel described. 
 
 "You've found it, eh?" said the widower. "Ah, 
 you rascal, to take advantage of seding the notice be 
 fore I did ! That was what brought you in, I suppose 
 hunting for this thing." 
 
 Justin's face grew pink. "I didn't see any notice 
 at all," he said, rather gruffly. " Where? " 
 Oliphant pointed towards the small spot of paper. 
 " At any rate, my boy," said he, " you're five hundred 
 dollars better off than you were before you stepped in 
 here : that's the reward. And I'm glad of it. But 
 how did you happen upon the discovery?" 
 
 "Well, the fact is, I felt blue, I I don't care to 
 explain why ; and so I got reckless and spent half a 
 dollar to come in here half a dollar is a good deal to
 
 DEWDROPS AND DIAMONDS. Ill 
 
 me, you know. I was mooning around, looking at the 
 grass and the flowers, and trying to be unconscious of 
 those swell waiters over in the caf6 windows : there 
 were two of them laughing at my clothes, I know they 
 were." Justin's manner here became quite ferocious, 
 and he glared disdainfully at the restaurant side of 
 the building. " There's one comfort," he said : " the 
 wretches are forced to wear dress-coats in the day 
 time ; so they're as much out of fashion as I am. 
 "Well, I was looking into that flower-bed close by the 
 balcony, when I saw a twinkle and flash in the dark 
 earth. I thought it was a dewdrop, at first ; it threw 
 out that same sort of gleam. Do you know how beau 
 tiful the dew is, Mr. Oliphant? I often walk out very 
 early in the morning to see it on the fields ; it is so 
 glorious. You'd think gems had been scattered there 
 over night rubies and emeralds and topazes and 
 beryls and the rest of 'em ; but there's no pride or envy 
 connected with them. Ah, it's one of my greatest 
 pleasures ! ' ' 
 
 "But the diamonds," Oliphant reminded him, quietly 
 amazed at his young friend's indifference. "You're 
 forgetting about those." 
 
 Justin looked down at the shining cluster in his 
 hand. " Oh," he said, smiling, "I thought I had ex 
 plained. Of course there couldn't be any dew at this 
 time of day : it turned out to be these diamonds, al 
 most buried in the mould. They probably slipped 
 from some lady's dress, as she was standing on the 
 balcony above. Now, there's a nice idea, to think how 
 horribly she must feel about it, and how happy she'll 
 be when she gets them back ! "
 
 112 NEWPORT. 
 
 Oliphant laughed, his amazement turning to pleasure. 
 "Upon my word," he declared, " I believe if it weren't 
 for that idea, you'd be sorry they were diamonds, instead 
 of dewdrops. You, don't seem to think any thing about 
 the reward." 
 
 "The reward! That's true: I suppose it's fair to 
 take it, if it's worth the sum to her to get them back." 
 
 "Of course it's worth that much and more. The 
 stones must have cost four or five thousand, Justin ; 
 and 1 five hundred " 
 
 "Did you mean that?" Justin broke in, grasping 
 his arm. " I thought you were joking. Five hundred 
 dollars in a lump ! Why, it's a fortune to me ! I can 
 do all sorts of things ; I can go to Germany and 
 study." He held his breath for an instant. "But 
 then I should have to leave " He stopped. 
 
 " Of course you'd have to ' leave,' if you were going. 
 Leave what ? ' ' 
 
 " Home," said Justin shyly. " Something else, too 
 a great deal more to me than that." 
 
 " Oh, I see," said his companion. " I wonder who 
 the lady is." 
 
 " That I sha'n't tell you," Craig retorted, presenting 
 a warlike front. He saw his mistake, however, in 
 stantly. 
 
 "I meant the lady who lost the jewel," Oliphant 
 told him ; and they joined in a laugh of good under 
 standing. 
 
 " 1 hardly like this idea, though," Craig resumed, 
 " of accepting money for restoring what isn't mine. 
 It seems to put one in a false position."
 
 DEWDROPS AND DIAMONDS. 113 
 
 " Not in your case," argued his friend. " I think it 
 would be wrong for you to refuse. You must consider 
 the money as a tax levied by Providence for the en 
 couragement of art." 
 
 They proceeded in a very cheerful humor to the 
 superintendent's office ; for the incident of the finding 
 had temporarily driven off Oliphant's agitations con 
 cerning Octavia, and had almost made Craig forget the 
 misery of having been met by Vivian Ware without 
 recognition. 
 
 "I see," he began, to the clerk, "that a diamond 
 brooch has been lost. Can 3-011 tell me the name of the 
 owner ? ' ' 
 
 The clerk looked up at him with experienced inso 
 lence. "See here, young man," said he, "do you 
 think I'm fresh?" 
 
 " No," said Craig. " I should think you were par 
 ticularly faded. Does that suit you any better?" 
 
 The official youth was surprised at such audacity in 
 a mere citizen, badly dressed. He looked closer at the 
 two gentlemen, and saw that Oliphant's costume and 
 appearance were deserving of respect. "I thought 
 3'ou were a newspaper chap," he remarked somewhat 
 apologetically to Craig, "picking up items. Do you 
 know any thing about that brooch?" 
 
 " I should like to know something about it, because 
 I have found one here." 
 
 "You have, hey?" returned the clerk, becoming 
 briskly companionable. "That's all right, thru. 
 You're in for the reward, I guess. Well, the lady 
 that lost it is Mrs. Chauncey Ware. Know her?"
 
 114 NEWPORT. 
 
 A change came over Craig's manner. He stiffened, 
 glanced quickly at Oliphant, and then back at the 
 clerk. " There is the brooch I found," he said, hold 
 ing it up for the man's inspection. "I shall not take 
 any reward." 
 
 The clerk suppressed a whistle of astonishment, and 
 put his hand forward to receive the diamonds. 
 
 "Just wait a minute," interposed Oliphant. "This 
 is a matter for one of the governors. You needn't 
 deliver the pin here, Craig. Besides," he continued in 
 a lower tone, "I protest against your declining the 
 reward." 
 
 Craig was pale and rather agitated. " Do you 
 know," he returned, with a cold gleam in his eyes, 
 "who Mrs. Ware is? She is the mother of Vivian 
 Ware ; and if I had to starve first, I would never accept 
 a dollar from her, under any circumstances." 
 
 They had stepped away a little, so that the clerk 
 behind the desk should not hear. ".Take a little time, 
 my boy; think," said Oliphant, with a hand on his 
 shoulder. " You will find my name down," he added, 
 to the clerk, " as a subscriber ; and I will be responsible 
 for the delivery of this brooch. Or you can send for 
 one of the governors, and we will wait up-stairs. Here's 
 my card." 
 
 " All right, sir," said the companionable clerk. 
 
 "No, we won't wait at all!" thundered Craig, 
 vehemently. " I've found the brooch, and I'll have 
 nothing more to do with it. Mr. Oliphant, you ought 
 to understand me!" And as he spoke, he brought 
 to bear upon his friend the ardor and the softness of
 
 DEWDKOPS AND DIAMONDS. 115 
 
 his fine ej'es, in which could be read a confession of his 
 love for Vivian, and all the piteous struggle of his 
 wounded pride and social disadvantage. "There!" 
 he wound up; "take the pin, and manage it as you 
 prefer. I don't wish my name mentioned ; and I'm 
 going." 
 
 Oliphant looked at him reproachfully, but Craig 
 thrust the precious object into his hands and stalked 
 quickly away, making for the street. "At least, 
 Craig look here!" called his friend. " I want you 
 to dine with me at seven, here in the Casino. Will 
 you come?" 
 
 Craig halted. " In these clothes? " he inquired sar 
 castically. 
 
 " In any thing a bathing-suit, if you like." 
 
 Justin's magnificence broke down at this. " I'll be 
 with 3*011," he said, emitting a short, pleased laugh. 
 But, having done that much, he continued on his way, 
 and disappeared. 
 
 Oliphant waited until he could see the superintend 
 ent and assure him of the safety of the brooch ; and 
 after that he hastened to the house of Mrs. Chauncey 
 Ware. He found her engaged, but Stillman, whom he 
 had met at Raish's lunch, received him. Stillman 
 Ware, who was about twenty-eight, looked forty years 
 old : he had a wrinkled brow and black hair which was 
 alarmingly scant on the crown of his head ; and he 
 wore mild, unobtrusive little shiny shoes. There was 
 a general air about him as if he had been finished in 
 patent leather ; he also bore his premature aging with 
 the imperturbableness of a trained gentleman ; indeed,
 
 116 NEWPORT. 
 
 with something of pleasantry, as if conscious that he 
 had got a good deal of fun out of life, even though he 
 had drawn heavily on his principal to pay for it. He 
 accepted the news of Justin's refusal to take the re 
 ward with a kind of sweet annoyance. He was very 
 gentle, but very much provoked. 
 
 "Mr. Craig," he said, "maybe an excellent per 
 son, but I don't see why he should assume the tone of 
 a man of wealth. I am told he is quite straitened as 
 to his means. And it is scarcely fair for him to insist 
 on placing us under an obligation which we can't 
 repay." 
 
 "Will you dine with me this evening, and meet 
 him? " Oliphant asked. " I think you would like him, 
 and you might talk it over." 
 
 " Thanks ; I am engaged for dinner. However, my 
 mother or I will perhaps see him to-morrow. There is 
 a particular reason why we cannot accept a favor of 
 this kind at his hands. It's all wrong. He must al 
 low us to recompense him. " 
 
 "And the particular reason?" Oliphant began. 
 " I suppose I ought not to inquire what it is." 
 
 " I would rather not say," answered AVare. " Per 
 haps you have some inkling of it alread} 7 ." 
 
 This was the gist of their interview, which soon came 
 to an end. In the evening, Justin professed annoy 
 ance that Oliphant should have disclosed his name as 
 that of the finder ; but this wore off, and the result of 
 their session at dinner was a long walk together under 
 the starlight, and a talk in which Oliphant made his 
 way to Justin's confidence. .
 
 DFWDKOPS AND DIAMONDS. 117 
 
 "I stand alone in the world, Craig," he said to him, 
 " and if you will make a friend of me I shall be in 
 your debt for giving me a new interest. With me the 
 best of life is over, but perhaps I can help your cause 
 with Vivian ; and if you succeed in music through any 
 passing assistance I may lend, don't you see how great 
 my pleasure would be in that success?" 
 
 They were pausing, about to part, by the mysterious 
 Old Mill, or Norseman's Tower, in Touro Park. The 
 carriages, coaches, and phaetons which had filed past 
 it so numerousby a few hours before had now utterly 
 disappeared ; there was no more tramping of horses ; 
 not a trace of the pageant remained. A village quiet, 
 in fact, reigned over Newport, broken only at the mo 
 ment by the meagre, sharp, and grating notes of a 
 chorus of tree-toads. Electric lights, however, sus 
 pended on high poles, threw a weird illumination down 
 upon the dew-damp street, or across and under the 
 muffling foliage of the trees, in wide splashes and long, 
 jagged streaks, as if the radiance were a liquid that 
 had undergone icy crystallization. In this cold light 
 the face of Justin shone for an instant with responsive 
 gratitude : he seemed to accept the position of a 
 younger brother towards his companion. 
 
 "Your sympathy and fellowship are help enough," 
 he said, pressing Oliphant's hand. 
 
 Then the lighted face turned and passed away down 
 the dark street, and Oliphant's eyes rested on the dim 
 tower which confronted him like a ghost of gray stone, 
 looking as if it had a warning to utter. But what of 
 that? Faces come and go around the old tower, 01
 
 118 NEWPORT. 
 
 vanish foiever from its presence, while it remains un 
 altered, a perpetual enigma of the past. And are not 
 the faces enigmas, just as much? And has not love 
 its gray ruins, that loom up in the night and seem on 
 the point of warning us? But no one would heed the 
 warning, even if it ever came to speech.
 
 vn. 
 
 LORD HAWKSTANE'S JUST PRIDE. 
 
 MRS. CHAUNCEY WARE was a worran of high 
 social position in Boston ; she had abundant 
 wealth ; she was attended by a train of obsequious 
 ancestors and subservient living personages. Her 
 face was colorless except for a lingering brown tinge, 
 and was quilted all over with fine lines that seemed to 
 have been arranged by a pattern ; so that you might 
 have fancied for a moment that it was itself an heir 
 loom, some kind of a sampler or old piece of stitching, 
 carefully preserved until it had grown rather dingy. 
 Further reflection would convince you that the surface 
 was human, after all, but that peculiar influences 
 slowly working upon it had imparted a strangeness 
 and imperviousness that made it appear unreal. 
 
 It was a comfortable, satisfied countenance, as well 
 it might be, for the prevailing superstition in the three- 
 hilled city attributed to its possessor an amount of 
 visiting-list and old-family wisdom never surpassed by 
 any other conservator of society. Mrs. Ware always 
 exhibited two cylindrical puffs of grayish hair on her 
 temples ; minute sibylline scrolls, one might say. 
 Somehow, in those two puffs, which were like insignia 
 
 119
 
 120 NEWPORT. 
 
 of her high office, she appeared to have coiled up the 
 experience of a life-time ; and Raish Porter had once 
 alluded to them as the steel-gray mainsprings of her 
 existence. 
 
 It may easily be imagined how such a person, know 
 ing in a distant and austere way that Craig cherished 
 a preposterous sentiment for her daughter, must have 
 felt with regard to his obstinacy about the reward. 
 " I entirely agree with Stillman," she said, the next 
 morning, at breakfast. "The young man should be 
 made to take it." 
 
 She regarded her son with instructive gravity, as if 
 it were he whom she desired to convince, instoad of 
 her daughter. The gently polished Stillman, who had 
 staid out late the night before, gambling heavily, 
 seemed to have become indifferent on the subject. 
 
 " ' Made to take it,' mamma? " said Vivian. " One 
 would almost suppose he had committed an offence by 
 finding your pin and sending it to you. I think he has 
 a right to refuse, if he wants to the right that any 
 gentleman would have." 
 
 ',' Is he any? If so, how many?" her brother 
 asked, trying to relieve the tedium of the discussion. 
 
 " Stillmau, I fear for your mind," said Vivian. 
 "Don't you think it is tottering just a little bit?" 
 She contemplated him with a pretty, unconcerned 
 scorn, then devoted herself wholly for the moment to 
 a rye-and-Indian roll. 
 
 " I shall believe it is tottering, my excellent sister," 
 he replied, " when I find myself convinced by you." 
 
 His savageness did not humiliate her, but she tried
 
 LORD HAWKSTANE'S JUST P1UDE. 121 
 
 a pathetic appeal, quite as if she had actually been 
 humiliated. "You wouldn't like to take money your 
 self, in that way, would you?" she demanded, bending 
 earnestly forward, and giving him a look for which 
 Craig would have walked fifty miles. 
 
 'Wouldn't I?" returned the patent-leather cynic, 
 unmoved. " Just let mother try offering it to me. I 
 dropped twice that sum at roulette, last night." 
 
 " Stillman," said Mrs. Ware, in a tone of conven 
 tional grief, " I wish you wouldn't allude to those 
 things." 
 
 He smiled, complacently. " You know, mother, I 
 never make any secret of my amusements. It is only 
 serious things that one cares to conceal." 
 
 " That is quite epigrammatic," his sister observed, 
 thinking it best to flatter him. "But, mamma, why 
 not just thank Mr. Craig, and let the whole thing go?" 
 
 "Or," suggested Stillman, attempting an extreme 
 of sarcasm, "you might invite him to your party to 
 night." 
 
 " Not a bad idea, either," Vivian commented. 
 
 " What absurdity ! " exclaimed her mother. 
 
 u Oh, I've no doubt Vivian is longing to have him 
 here. She is greatly interested in him, beyond a 
 question." 
 
 " So is Mrs. Gifford," Vivian retorted. "And why 
 shouldn't I be? It was she who first made me ac 
 quainted with him ; don't you remember? " 
 
 " I wish she had been in Guinea! " affirmed Mrs. 
 Waic, in a large geographical spirit. "A strange 
 freak of hers, that was ; and your allowing him to call
 
 122 NEWPORT. 
 
 here, Vivian, was still stranger. But then, I long ago 
 learned that I needn't expect you to be judicious. 
 You. will never outgrow your girlhood, rny child." 
 
 Vivian, who had at that instant conveyed a dainty 
 morsel to her lips, was seized with something like a 
 choking fit. When this threat had been averted, she 
 was seen to be laughing. "I assure you, mamma," 
 she cried, " you almost made me swallow my fork; 
 and then what would you have done? Outgrow my 
 girlhood? I hope I shall not. I mean always to be 
 young. Dear me, this is too funny!" Mrs. Ware's 
 wisdom-curls appeared to wind themselves tighter than 
 ever, in view of a levity so abandoned ; but Vivian, 
 still afflicted with laughter, rose from her place and 
 turned her gayly colored baptiste gown making a 
 graceful sweep to the bird-cage in the window be 
 hind her. " Poor little canary," she murrnured, "you 
 haven't had your morning bath and your fresh chick- 
 weed, have you? And all this time we are talking 
 about trivial matters." Here she cast a swift glance 
 at her mother again, and remarked tersely, " As if I 
 were in any way responsible for Mr. Craig ! You may 
 count me out." 
 
 " Stillman, will you go down to see him?" Mrs. 
 Ware asked, in a confidential tone, ignoring Vivian. 
 
 " I'm sorry, mother, but I have so much to do about 
 our affair this evening, you know." 
 
 "Then /shall go," she announced. "It is proper 
 that the young man should be thanked, at any rate, if 
 he won't accept more." 
 
 Go she did, accordingly. Justin was summoned
 
 LORD HAWKSTANE'S JUST PRIDE. 123 
 
 from an abstruse piece of counterpoint on which he was 
 laboring, to confront the undecipherable face and the 
 gray puffs, which had emerged from the Ware chariot 
 just drawn up at his humble boarding-house door ; and 
 at first his visitor endeavored to give their meeting a 
 briefly business-like turn. "I am very much obliged 
 to you," she said, " for recovering an ornament that I 
 value especially for its associations, and I have come 
 in person to hand you the sum we had named as the 
 reward, because I wanted to have the opportunity of 
 thanking you for your service." 
 
 " It was no service," said Justin; "only an acci 
 dent. But I appreciate your kindness in thanking 
 me." 
 
 He spoke so simply, and in a tone so engaging, that 
 Mrs. Ware began to be impressed. " Then, will you 
 allow me " she continued, hesitating slightly, as she 
 touched the spring of the seal-skin portemonnaie she 
 carried. 
 
 Justin was naturally somewhat dramatic in his move 
 ments. He raised one hand, with a gesture of for 
 bidding. "No, indeed!" he responded vigorously. 
 " I thought Mr. Oliphant had made that clear to you." 
 
 "May I ask," inquired the lady, her gloved fingers 
 still hovering over the portemonnaie, "why } T OU are 
 so resolute in declining this very proper return for 
 your favor ? ' ' 
 
 " I hardly think," he replied, calmly, " it would do 
 any good for me to go into the reasons. I realty can't 
 see that I have done any thing to be rewarded, and 
 you have more than paid me with your thanks."
 
 124 NEWPORT. 
 
 Mrs. Cluuiacey Ware secretly admired his reserved 
 and politic attitude ; she felt that it lifted him up 
 almost to her own plane. " Pardon me," she rejoined, 
 "I do not know much of young men of your class, 
 but I must say I wasn't prepared for this sort of feel 
 ing in one of them." 
 
 There was great danger of combustion in Justin's 
 mind, at this instant, but he managed to prevent it. 
 " You surprise me," he said. " If we have any such 
 thing as distinct classes in this country, I should have 
 thought that it was precisely with mine that you would 
 be best acquainted." 
 
 "At all events," she returned, quite unperturbed, 
 "it is a great satisfaction to arrive at so good an 
 understanding." Still, Mrs. Ware had sense enough 
 to see that she had got the worst of it, and tact enough 
 to be conscious that there was but one way of recov 
 ering her lost ground. Besides, I believe she had a 
 certain amount of humane sympathy left in her, which 
 caused her to pity Justin's poverty, and to value his 
 independence. "We will say no more about this 
 errand on which I came," she continued, "if you 
 prefer ; but it shall be on one condition : that is. that 
 you come to-night to a reception which I have arranged 
 At my house." 
 
 Justin's heart leaped at the thought of such an invi 
 tation, lie was perfectly aware that the sleeves of 
 his dress-coat were very ragged inside ; but no one is 
 richer than he who, being without money, can afford 
 to refuse it ; and for the time being he felt as opulent 
 as possible. To meet Vivian in her own house, on
 
 LORD HAWKSTANE'S JUST PRIDE. 125 
 
 equal terms with all her friends, and especially the 
 Count Fitz-Stuart ! It was something not to be fore 
 gone. He did not betray his emotion ; he did not 
 spring into the air ; he did not give vent to the tri 
 umphant cry that clamored within him. " I shall be 
 very happy," he said, with exemplary self-control; 
 but that short phrase covered a great deal of meaning. 
 
 And thus it happened that Stillman Ware's extrava 
 gant suggestion became within an hour's time sober 
 reality, through the action of that unimpeachable au 
 thority, his mother. 
 
 " I don't know what we shall come to, if this is the 
 sort of thing that's going to be done," he complained, 
 when she told him of it; "which means that I do 
 know, exactly. Vivian, whose sense of humor can't 
 be depended on, will fall in love with that young piano- 
 pounder, and never see the absurdity of it." 
 
 "Well, my boy, Vivian is erratic, at the best: she 
 will be wild, whatever is done. Do you know what 
 she did only yesterday ? She called across the street 
 to Colonel Clancy, who was passing, and made him 
 go into the Casino to lunch with Roland De Peyster 
 and herself and the Richards girls. I wonder you 
 hadn't heard, for it came to me soon enough, I can 
 tell you. But it's no use talking to her. And as for 
 this Craig, now that he has called here he may as well 
 be recognized. If we try to keep him out, she will 
 think all the more of him. Besides, I had to do some 
 thing to throw the obligation upon his side." 
 
 Mrs. Ware had found her son on the lawn at the 
 back of the house, superintending the placing of some
 
 126 NEWPORT. 
 
 lanterns. "Very well," lie said, when she finished. 
 " I see that it's settled ; but I shall have to make some 
 changes in my plan, now : it will be necessary to put 
 lanterns in the arbor." 
 
 " Why, what has that got to do with Craig? " 
 
 "I'll tell you," said Stillman, resignedly. "That 
 arbor was to be left dark ; I had just told the men so. 
 It was a little experiment of mine a trap in which 
 I expected to catch a few song-birds. Off in that 
 quiet corner under the trees, you see, some of the 
 sentimental young people would be sure to make for 
 it, if it were dark. Now that Craig is coming, though, 
 I shall illuminate it brilliantly : no tete-a-tete there for 
 him, with Vivian, if I can help it ! But you've spoiled 
 my fun, this time." 
 
 Oliphant was delighted with the news of Justin's 
 invitation, but it was not the only surprise of the day, 
 for him. At the club, about noon, he fell in with 
 Dana Swectser, who, chirping gayly of current inci 
 dents, spoke of the gossip concerning Lord Hawk- 
 stane's engagement. 
 
 " Amazingly lucky fellow ! " he exclaimed, reviving 
 for the occasion an ancient tremor of the voice which 
 had once, no doubt, been capable of conveying real 
 emotion. " On her part, however, it seems to me a 
 mistake to accept him so early in the season. She 
 should have waited until September. It diminishes 
 the interest, you know : she won't be sought after as 
 much." 
 
 Continuing, he confided the fact that he was almost 
 heart-broken by the news ; having cherished an ideal
 
 LORD HAWESTANE'S JUST PRIDE. 127 
 
 sentiment for Miss Hobart. But, in a moment or two, 
 he began to expatiate upon the charms of Miss Loyall, 
 the young beauty from Albany. Tiring of such dis 
 course, Oliphaut diverted him to the Alaska and Brit 
 ish Columbia Inlet Excavation, of which Sweetser 
 was the projector and chief advocate. 
 
 The scheme was a gigantic one : nothing less than 
 the scooping out of a considerable territory north of 
 the United States, so that a large inlet from the Pacific 
 Ocean might be formed, which should modify and 
 greatly improve the climate of this country. " A good 
 man)' laborers were frozen to death at first, but it was 
 a valuable lesson to us, as well as to them, and we 
 have now provided against that. I have another mat 
 ter in hand, though," said Dana, " for which you 
 must interest yourself : it is the Drainage Associa 
 tion." 
 
 "What is the object?" 
 
 " To improve the drainage of Newport very much 
 needed, you know. The conditions are frightful, here. 
 Do you appreciate, sir, that we are walking in constant 
 peril ? The whole place is threatened with an unborn 
 pestilence think of it! doomed, perhaps. I'm 
 going to agitate, and there must be an Association." 
 
 Oliphant found himself in peril from the man's en 
 thusiasm ; but Sweetser, catching sight of Lord Hawk- 
 stane, who had just entered the next room, promptly 
 abandoned his subject and his listener, and went to 
 offer the Englishman his congratalations. So, at 
 least, Oliphant inferred from his effusive manner and 
 wreathed smiles.
 
 128 NEWPORT. 
 
 Hi.wkstane appeared embarrassed, but not dis 
 pleased. Oliphant imagined that he was making some 
 negative protestation ; but Sweetser evidently thought 
 Ihis an excellent joke, looked very shrewd and sly, 
 and then, with a brief gurgle of rejuvenated laughter, 
 went off towards the writing-room. Hawkstane began 
 to approach the place where Oliphant sat ; but on the 
 way he was stopped a second time ; for Atlee, coming in 
 from the veranda, held him with his glittering eye-glass, 
 like an improved species of Ancient Mariner. 
 
 "Good mawning," said Atlee, in much the same 
 tone he might have used had he been talking in hia 
 sleep. 
 
 " Howjoo do? " said Lord Hawkstane. 
 
 " Ah ah ; fine day," Atlee continued. 
 
 "Uncommonly, for this country. If you wouldn't 
 have it so beastly hot, you know ! " 
 
 Atlee assumed the helpless look which he believed 
 to be a token of the highest breeding. He let it be 
 understood from his manner that climate was con 
 trolled by an inferior order of forces, with which he 
 had no connection. After an interval of sympathetic 
 vacancy, he resumed intellectual exercise. 
 
 " Haven't had the chance to offer my congratulations 
 befoah, melord. Allow me to do so now." 
 
 " Wy does every one congratulate me?" inquired 
 Lord Hawkstane, politely. 
 
 " Haw, haw," said Atlee, with funereal hilarity. 
 "Because they envy you so howibly, I dare say. 
 Don't you think you ought to be? "" 
 
 " Oh, I've no objection ; not the least in the world.
 
 LORD HAWESTANE'S JUST PRIDE. 129 
 
 I suppose I've got on better than most men." Hawk- 
 stane looked very complacent, but adjusted his shirt- 
 collar with one finger, as if his satisfaction needed 
 propping. " You mean Miss Hobart? " he ended. 
 
 " To be sure," Atlee answered. " You ought to be 
 ve'y happy." 
 
 "Thanks, yes; I am very happy," said his lord 
 ship, promptly. " I don't mind it ; not the least in the 
 world." 
 
 The spurious Englishman sounded his doleful laugh 
 once more. "I should think not," he said, carefully 
 preserving the somnolent tone "I should think 
 not." 
 
 His mental resources having apparently been ex 
 hausted, he turned to the newspapers, and Hawkstane 
 spoke to Oliphant. 
 
 " Is it true, then," Oliphant asked immediately, 
 " that you're engaged to Miss Hobart? " 
 
 The young man colored. " Engaged? " he repeated. 
 " What makes you think that? " 
 
 " You must excuse my bluntness," Oliphant replied. 
 " I thought that was what you were just speaking of. 
 It's the general opinion, I believe." 
 
 "Hang it, no! I'm not engaged," Lord Hawk 
 stane declared with some energy, recovering his natural 
 pallor. 
 
 Atlee dropped his newspaper, and looked over at 
 him with a faint, embarrassed grin, at the same time 
 reducing his facial aspect to a complete void. 
 
 " You're not ! " exclaimed Oliphant. " Good heav 
 ens, why didn't you tell us that before? "
 
 130 NEWPORT. 
 
 "W'y? You're the first man who has asked me 
 any thing about it, Mr. Oliphant. And haven't I told 
 you, directly you asked? I thought everybody knew 
 Miss Ilobart turned me off." 
 
 "But," protested Atlee, "yon you allowed me 
 to congratulate you." (In his excitement he forgot to 
 slur the "r.") 
 
 " My dear fellah," said Lord Hawkstane, " that was 
 what you wanted, wasn't it? Ton my word, too, I 
 think it was right enough. Wen you think how many 
 men admire her, and how hard she is to come at, you 
 know, I think it's a good deal to get so far as I did. 
 'Pon my word, now, I accept your congratulations for 
 having been honored by a refusal. That's more than 
 you'll ever be, Atlee. Isn't it, Mr. Oliphant? " 
 
 Whether the j'oung aristocrat had defeated his 
 American friends on their own ground as a sad humor 
 ist, or whether he really meant what he said, Oliphant 
 was unable to determine ; so he held his peace, and 
 looked wise. 
 
 " I beg pahdon, you know awfully stupid in me 
 pahclon," Atlee said, disjointedly. 
 
 " Hang it ! " Lord Hawkstane again ejaculated. " I 
 mean it, you know. I'm proud of it. 'Gad, it's a 
 feather in my cap." 
 
 Meanwhile Sweetser, unable long to resist the at 
 traction of a title, had come back from the writing- 
 room, and had overheard the whole disclosure from 
 the threshold. Without delay he left the club, and, in 
 a singularly brief space of time, what he had gathered 
 was spread through the town.
 
 vin. 
 
 HALF-LIGHTS. 
 
 OLIPIIANT could not at once muster courage to 
 call upon Octavia, in reply to her note ; and it 
 was with no little trepidation that he prepared to go to 
 Mrs. Ware's party, although he had a trembling pleas 
 ure in the prospect, also. This was to be their first 
 interview since the critical one at her house. How, 
 then, would she treat him? Was she angry; did she 
 suspect his judgment or sincerity, because of his ap 
 pearing on the drive with Mrs. Blazer? Or would she 
 prove lenient? 
 
 With such queries he tortured himself as diligently 
 as if he had been a boy of twenty, and she a capricious 
 maiden of the same age. When at last, after floating 
 about some time in the perfumed .crush of the large 
 villa drawing-rooms, he saw her at a distance, it 
 seemed to him that there was a shadow of forbidding, 
 at least a lack of cordialit}', .in her mute greeting. 
 But how could so lovely a form of womanhood be 
 cruel or unkind ? Oliphant would not believe it, and 
 hastened to make his way towards her. At that 
 instant Roland De Peyster, by the piano, was sending 
 
 131
 
 132 NEWPORT. 
 
 out a volume of baritone voice from under his waving 
 red mustache, singing, 
 
 " I know not when the day shall be, 
 
 I know not where our eyes may meet, 
 What welcome you may give to me, 
 
 Or will your words be sad or sweet; 
 It may not be till years have passed, 
 Till eyes are dim, and tresses gray: 
 The world is wide, but, love, at last, 
 Our hands, our hearts, must meet some day." 
 
 (L'istesso tempo.) " Some day, some day " 
 
 and so on. It was nothing less than sardonic in De 
 Peyster to regale the company with this sentiment, 
 considering the number of young ladies who were 
 ready to meet him, not "some day," but any day; 
 yet the performance stirred Oliphant deeply. It was 
 with a resonance of feeling in his tone that he began 
 to speak to Octavia. 
 
 " I must apologize," he said, " for not responding 
 immediately to }-our kind note. I was really planning 
 to call to-day, but" 
 
 "Oh, it doesn't matter, Mr. Oliphant." She ap 
 peared much more gracious, now that he was near her. 
 "I'm afraid," she added, "I was rather hasty in 
 sending that note. At the time, I thought we'd better 
 meet soon ; but, to tell you the truth, I changed my 
 mind, afterwards." 
 
 A light gust of air from some open window blew 
 in upon Oliphant's face, while she was replying, and 
 brought a faint tang of the sea to mingle with the odor 
 of the flowers around them. He could not tell whether
 
 HALF-LIGHTS. 133 
 
 it was this breath of the lonely waters, or a lurking 
 dullness in her manner, that touched him with mo 
 mentary foreboding. " I hope no oversight or any act 
 of mine was the cause of your change," he returned. 
 
 Octavia raised her face and smiled, looking off 
 towards the chandelier; then said, gently, "I have r.o 
 fault to find." 
 
 "Because you have found one already?" he in 
 quired. "I have discovered who told you of the 
 matter we were speaking about, the other day ; and I 
 must assure you, if I had known before, I never should 
 have appeared publicly with Mrs." 
 
 "Hsh!" said Octavia, lifting her gloved hand a 
 little, in warning ; and Oliphant discovered that Mrs. 
 Blazer was in the act of gliding by them, on the arm 
 of Baron Huyncck. She barely inclined her head, as 
 she passed, and Oliphant gave the slightest possible 
 salutation. 
 
 "Would you mind going out on the terrace?" 
 Octavia asked. "It is stifling here." While they 
 moved away together, she said half archly, "Have 
 you been taking Mrs. Blazer to task for telling tales? 
 She has put you on her black list, evidently." 
 
 " It wasn't my fault," he answered, " that we 
 didn't quarrel outright." 
 
 Octavia made no concealment of her pleasure ; 
 though " It was wrong for you to risk that," she said. 
 " Why should you quarrel on nry account? " 
 
 "Why?" echoed he. "Merely because I value 
 your regard or the chance of it too much to risk 
 losing it even for something much better than Mrs. 
 Blazer's good will."
 
 134 NEWPORT. 
 
 There was a sweet, lulled look upon Octavia's face, 
 as she listened ; a look which to Oliphant, albeit he 
 hardly dared to think he was right, seemed like one of 
 trustful surrender. " Thank you," she murmured, 
 not too seriously. "You arc chivalrous, I see. But 
 tell me how it was that that woman came to hear of 
 the circumstances." 
 
 "I haven't the faintest idea," Oliphant said; and 
 he frankly detailed the whole history of the letter, 
 including even his half-formed suspicion of Raish. 
 "I questioned Porter, ' this afternoon, without telling 
 him what the letter was ; and he didn't seem to know 
 a thing. He faced me squarely, and said, ' It's very 
 puzzling, and I can't help you out at all. Don't 
 ask me to investigate, because I make it a rule never 
 to inquire into such things ; they lead to so much 
 trouble.' " 
 
 "I can't fully trust your friend," said Octavia ; 
 "but I believe I trust you. At any rate, it is all over, 
 now. At first I was bewildered and thought something 
 must be done ; so I was anxious to see you. Besides, 
 I felt so alone, don't }'ou know. It was a strange 
 moment. I wanted some one to to " 
 
 " Advise with? " he suggested. 
 
 "Yes." Octavia's voice sank to an enticing whis 
 per. 
 
 ' I wish I could have done any thing for you," Oli 
 phant rejoined. " I'm bitterly sorry for the whole 
 affair, so far as my share in it goes, if it caused you 
 pain." 
 
 Octavia gave him a glance of gratitude for his sym-
 
 HALF-LIGHTS. 135 
 
 pathy. They were standing on the terrace, now, in 
 the subdued light from one of the drawing-room win 
 dows. "I'm sorry, too," she said, very softly, "for 
 you. It is a very hard position that you've been 
 placed in." 
 
 " So you acquit me, and forgive me? " 
 
 "Why shouldn't I, Mr. Oliphant? You could 
 hardly have done otherwise than you did." 
 
 "Still," he said, "I was afraid. But if it is all 
 right, won't you give me a little token, one of those 
 roses ? ' ' 
 
 A few Marshal Niel buds hung richly upon the black 
 of her low-cut dress. 
 
 " You don't need it," Octavia lightl}' assured him. 
 "I'll give you my hand ; I mean I'll shake hands, if 
 you like. But the rose would be sentimental, and 
 sentiment, you know, is hardly for us, at our time." 
 
 She looked away from him into the nigl\t, a little 
 sadly. Out beyond the terrace were the many-colored 
 glow of lanterns, the thick dusk of waving tree-tops, 
 and the forms of guests wandering about the grounds, 
 as indistinct in the dim light of lanterns and stars as 
 the shapes in an old tapestry. Involved in a web of 
 radiance from the window, which was crossed by dark 
 lines from the curtains and a spray of palm inside, 
 she was more beautiful than ever, with her pale brown 
 hair, her dark dress, and the gleams of white "illu 
 sion" at the bosom. 
 
 "Nonsense!" said Oliphant. " For you. at least, 
 it's an anachronism to take that tone ; and there's 
 some hope even for me, so long as Dana Sweetser
 
 136 NEWPORT. 
 
 keeps up his youth. Haven't you observed him talk 
 ing devotedly to Miss Loyall, this evening? " 
 
 "No, I didn't see him. But there go two young 
 people who are better worth noticing." She nodded 
 towards the terrace steps, where Perry Thorburn and 
 Josephine, who had come out of the house, were mov 
 ing down into the shadowy region of the lawn. 
 
 " Oh, that reminds me : how strange about the false 
 report of Lord Hawkstane being engaged ! " Octavia 
 began to laugh, but she ceased on his asking immedi 
 ately: "Is it really young Mr. Thorburn who ought to 
 have been rumored about, instead? " 
 
 She divined his motive. With a downcast face, as 
 if making confession on her own behalf, she answered: 
 " Mr. Thorburn is greatly interested in Josephine. 
 But you're not to mention it ; he confides in me." 
 
 It was indeed a confession, for it explained every 
 thing to Oliphant ; it showed him that Perry's atten 
 tions to Octavia were simply in the interest of his 
 attachment for Josephine, and it set him free to think 
 of Octavia as his fancy, in its most sanguine mood, 
 might urge. Did she know the full force of this ad 
 mission ? Did she guess what unpremeditated scheme 
 and infatuated longing it aroused in Oliphant? He 
 could not tell, but was content to yield himself to the 
 fascination of that which he imagined might be possi 
 ble. And so he paced around, and smiled and chatted 
 and sighed, and allowed various expressions to master 
 his countenance, like other men who were present that 
 evening ; never suspecting that the women with whom 
 he conversed among them this charming lady, who
 
 HALF-LIGHTS. 137 
 
 had suddenly become for him the one apart from aL 
 the rest were so many packages of emotional dyna 
 mite, artfully encased in silk, and set by invisible 
 clock-work of the heart to explode at a given time. 
 
 Justin, meanwhile, had been fairly well received. 
 He brought for Vivian a bunch of grasses and flower- 
 de-luce and late June roses, gathered specially for her, 
 which was so unlike every thing else in the rooms that 
 it gained a distinction and charm of its own ; and she 
 took it with a candid little burst of thanks and friend 
 liness. Mrs. Ware met him with haughty benevolence, 
 and Stillinan yielded him a reluctant courtesy. All 
 had gone well, yet Justin was not happy ; for Count 
 Fitz-Stuart had appropriated Vivian, and her } 7 ounger 
 lover grudged the moments which she was now squan 
 dering on that fragment of misdirected royalty in the 
 lamp-lit walk. 
 
 li Have you succeeded in entertaining yourself, 
 count? " Vivian asked, as they strolled together. 
 
 u No, mademoiselle. I find your assembly charm 
 ing, but when not until now have I had two words 
 with you, sail 3-011 expect me to be content? " 
 
 " Why not? There are surely a great many pleas 
 ant people for you to talk to here. Still, no ; I should 
 think you would be tired of this country." 
 
 Xot at all. How often, mademoiselle, must I per 
 suade you ? I find Newport very agreeable quite at 
 the manner of Europe ; seulement un pen plus simple, 
 savez-vous ? more more rustique.' ' 
 
 "Then really, count, are you not longing to return 
 home?"
 
 138 NEWPORT. 
 
 " Mais why do you think? " 
 
 " Because, as you're the last of your family, you 
 must be lonesome without relatives, and I should ima 
 gine you would feel it all the more among strangers." 
 
 " No, not that," said Fitz-Stuart, with gravity. 
 " Even if I were prince, I think I would become repub 
 lican, to be near where you are." 
 
 "It would be a great pity, though," said Vivian. 
 " We shouldn't care half as much about you, then. 
 We Americans just adore the nobility. I'm sure I do. 
 There!" 
 
 The count displayed his peachy little smile. " To 
 be adored is ravishing," he remarked, complacently. 
 
 " Ah, but I don't say," laughed Vivian, impelled by 
 a sense that she was engaged in one of those inter 
 national encounters which have assumed such impor 
 tance of late, "I don't say that I adore you, you 
 know. It's only the nobility as an institution, a class. 
 I adore them all at once, don't you see? " 
 
 "That is too many," he said, methodically. "I 
 prefer if you like only me." 
 
 ' ' Oh, yes, I know. You have told me so several 
 times." 
 
 " Ah, Mademoiselle Ware," Fitz-Stuart began with 
 pathos, " why can you not reconsider? " As they were 
 constantly passing other pairs, he thought it prudent 
 to speak in French. " I have your brother's consent ; 
 I still place myself at your feet my title, my illus 
 trious race, every thiug but fortune." 
 
 Vivian assumed alarm, and stopped him. "Don't, 
 don't speak French ! " she exclaimed. " Every oio
 
 HALF-LIGHTS. 139 
 
 here knows French. Talk in English, and they will 
 never understand you." 
 
 "Ah, these young girls of America ! " murmured the 
 count, shrugging his shoulders. "You tell me this, 
 when my race should be upon the English throne ? ' ' 
 
 "They would have been there, too," Vivian has 
 tened to say, " if James the Third, or somebody, hadn't 
 refused to give up Catholicism, and preferred the 
 French language. He was an ancestor of yours, 
 wasn't he? " 
 
 The count put on the most regal manner at his dis 
 posal. "Yes, my friend," was his reply. "His 
 majesty would not surrender his belief of religion. 
 Does it not prove he was a good man? " 
 
 " I'm not certain," she returned. " It proves that 
 he tJionghl he was good. Perhaps you think you're 
 good, too, Monsieur le Comte ; but I never will marry 
 a Catholic." 
 
 "Mademoiselle," said he impressively, "what my 
 ancestor has refused to abandon for the sake of a king 
 dom, I will sacrifice if I can win your hand." 
 
 The speech was so magnificent that Vivian blushed 
 with pride in spite of herself ; but she answered gayly, 
 " You'd better not forsake your religion to-night. 
 Wait just a few da}-s. I am sure I can't agree to what 
 you ask certainly not now. But I'll tell you what I 
 will do. If I can't consent to many, I'll promise to 
 ride with you to the polo-match to-morrow, as you 
 proposed this morning." 
 
 Fitz-Stuart contemplated her mournfully. " Mees 
 Ware," he said, " you have no sentiment. But I sub 
 mit myself."
 
 140 NEWPORT. 
 
 As they regained the terrace, Vivian paused, and 
 with a deep breath, looking up to the sky, she mur 
 mured, " How beautiful the stars are to-night ! " 
 
 Again the count regarded her, thoughtfully, as if he 
 could not make out what was passing in her mind. At 
 length he said wearily, himself glancing at the firma 
 ment, " Yes, yes ; the stars. But they are so old! " 
 
 "Monsieur le Comte," said Vivian, soberly, " you 
 have no sentiment ! " 
 
 It was after this that Justin had his chance for a 
 short interview with her. Stillman, patrolling the 
 house and the illuminated portion of the grounds, was 
 especially pleased with the lighted arbor, which was to 
 prevent any conference between his sister and Craig ; 
 but while he was sauntering along by it, with his 
 uncovered bald head showing in the radiance like a 
 very large pink wafer, Vivian innocently wauaered 
 away with Craig into the dark and deserted space 
 lying on the other side of the house, along the sea- 
 front. 
 
 " It's pleasantcr here," she said, " I want to get rid 
 of that babble of voices for a little while, and listen to 
 the waves instead." 
 
 " I don't care so much for the waves," Justin an 
 swered, significantly; "but one voice is better than 
 many. The last time I saw you, I began to think I 
 shouldn't hear much more of it." 
 
 " When? And what do you mean? " 
 
 " Why, yesterday, on the avenue. You rode by 
 without noticing my existence." 
 
 " You foolish boy ! You can't expect that I should
 
 HALF-LIGHTS. 141 
 
 be recognizing people all the time. If I were, I 
 shouldn't be able to do any thing else." 
 
 Vivian treated him to a glance of pretty disdain, 
 which was lost in the darkness. 
 
 " There are some of the other things which I'd just 
 as soon not have you do," said Justiu. 
 
 " What, are }'ou going to criticise me? " 
 
 " No, not you ; but I might criticise the life you're 
 leading. I don't like it. You're throwing yourself 
 away, and it makes me very uncomfortable, besides." 
 
 'Ah, I see; there's the trouble. Men uever can 
 bear to be uncomfortable." 
 
 " You know you're not in earnest, Miss Ware, when 
 you say that about me. But are you always going to 
 plague me so? " 
 
 " ' Always ' is a long time. Perhaps we sha'n't 
 know each other always." 
 
 " Perhaps not," said Craig, in a tone that blended 
 with the sombreness of the night around them. " We 
 hardly know each other now ; I see you so seldom. I 
 have to creep about in my obscure little world, and 
 even when we meet you are surrounded by people who 
 look down upon me. There's that count, with whom 
 you spend so much time." 
 
 " Oh, he makes you uncomfortable, too, I suppose. 
 But what do you imagine he would say, if he knew of 
 my being out here with you ? The count insists upon 
 it that I ought to marry him." 
 
 " I was sure of it ! " Craig exclaimed, bitterly. 
 
 "Just fancy," Vivian pursued, "how wonderful it 
 would be to marry into a royal line or on to the end
 
 142 NEWPOET. 
 
 of it, rather ! "We shouldn't have .any court or any 
 kingdom, but I've no doubt he would give me a real 
 throne if I paid for it." 
 
 " Well, with such an indncement as that, you'll 
 probably accept him,." said Justin, scornfully, but 
 without the least conviction. 
 
 "Oh," she retorted, "you have formed a high 
 opinion of me ! " 
 
 " Vivian ! " he groaned, most unexpectedly. " Don't 
 you know? Why do I come here? Why do I wait 
 around in places, trying to see you? Why am I miser 
 able? Don't you know I'm in love with you? " 
 
 She held her breath for an instant. " Well," she 
 observed, "that's a nice effect for love to have to 
 make you miserable ! " 
 
 "Pshaw!" muttered Justin. "You understand 
 well enough. I shouldn't be miserable at all, if you 
 only told me that you loved me, too." 
 
 " Really? " Vivian uttered a peal of laughter, that 
 seemed to Justin like the beginning of a new sonata. 
 " Do you think, then, that you'd be able to endure 
 it?" 
 
 " I don't dare to think of it," said Justin, " except 
 when I am alone. That is, I haven't dared to, until 
 now. But do you love me ? ' ' 
 
 "Justin, you're not in earnest. How can I fall in 
 love with a poor young musician, when I have counts 
 and all sorts of rich men dancing about me ? Do you 
 think it possible? " 
 
 The poor boy was shaken with the strength of his 
 passion, and aghast at his own temerity in declaring
 
 HALF-LIGHTS. 143 
 
 it so abruptly. "Oh, I don't suppose it's possible," 
 he answered. "You know nothing of what it is tc 
 really feel : you can't be serious." 
 
 " Well, let's see if I can't," he heard her saying, 
 without being able clearly to see her face through the 
 night. " Why do you insist upon asking ine whether 
 I love you ? ' ' 
 
 "Because," he replied, innocently enough, "it's 
 the only way to find out ! I can't go on, without set 
 tling this question." 
 
 "Oh, that makes a difference," said Vivian, who 
 must have had an eye like a microscope, for distinc 
 tions. "Well, then, will you listen if I tell you a 
 great secret?" Craig said nothing, but groped for 
 her hand and found that she allowed him to take it in 
 his, unguarded. " Do you know," she continued, " I 
 think if I were to try real hard, you know, I 
 might like you a great deal." 
 
 "Thank Heaven!" he breathed; and the spirit of 
 a man awoke within him. He drew her close to him. 
 
 The cool dark, the sweet odors of earth and grass, 
 and the soothing rustle of wind and sea enveloped 
 them with sympathy. The delicate perfume of her 
 hair floated round him, as if she had indeed been a 
 flower. 
 
 "How wonderful it is!" he murmured. "I can 
 scarcely believe it ; and yet it is just what I have be 
 lieved, for a long time, ought to happen. But why do 
 you think you can love me, Vivian? " 
 
 " Because you are the only true and simple man in 
 the world," said Vivian. The reason appeared to be
 
 144 NEWPOET. 
 
 conclusive. "And what can you find in mo?" she 
 asked, in her turn, looking fondly up through the 
 dusk, over his shoulder. 
 
 " It will take me all my life to explain," he said, 
 touching his lips to her forehead. "But I must tell 
 you," he added, "I didn't mean to speak so soon. 
 I'm only a beginner, you know. I have nothing, and 
 I must make my way, still." 
 
 " AVhat does that matter ?" Vivian answered. "I 
 am well off in my own right : I shall be rich enough 
 for both." 
 
 Both ! How delicious the word sounded ! But Jus 
 tin felt it incumbent upon him to be austerely firm. 
 "No," he said; "it can't be left so. I will claim 
 nothing until I can do so fairly. Now that we are 
 united in spirit, I won't ask you to promise : I simply 
 trust to you. Only, see how much you can separate 
 yourself, for me, from this gay and frivolous life in 
 which you are placed. That's all I ask." 
 
 "Oh, you are very generous," Vivian exclaimed, 
 moving away haughtily; "very generous, indeed! 
 But I think I should like you all the better if you 
 were a little well, a little meaner." 
 
 " I shall never be mean enough," he hotly rejoined, 
 "to take an unjust advantage. If I let you engage 
 yourself to me now, it would make you lots of trouble. 
 Besides, think what your people would say of me ! " 
 
 "Yes, that's it," Vivian.was quick to say. "You 
 care more for your pride than for me. It's very fine, 
 this talking about love ; but I've always noticed that 
 there isn't much in it, compared with other considera-
 
 HALF-LIGHTS. 145 
 
 tions ; and now I find that you're like all the rest. 
 Yes, I was a goose ; and its a humbug." 
 
 "I quite agree with you," Justin declared, becom 
 ing superbly frigid. "Women can't appreciate a 
 manly motive. They are all self-willed and hasty, and 
 I bitterly deceived myself in thinking you were differ 
 ent." 
 
 "Very well," she continued; "you wish me to be 
 free, and I am free. I was going to make a great, 
 great sacrifice for you, Mr. Craig ; but now I sha'n't. 
 I will keep my promise to the count, to ride with him 
 to polo, to-morrow." 
 
 " Just as you please," Justin said. And they were 
 able to return to the house in a state of polite ferocity 
 that complete!}* allayed Stillman's rising suspicions. 
 
 It is true, Justin played for the company, at Mrs. 
 Ware's request, though it was not seconded by Vivian ; 
 and he had never played better, with greater fire or 
 with pro founder depth, mystery, and sentiment. "But 
 if they only knew," he reflected, amid the ensuing ap 
 plause, " how ragged my coat-linings are, and that my 
 heart is all in tatters ! ' ' 
 
 And for a number of days afterwards it was noticed 
 by their particular friends that both Craig and Vivian 
 took every opportunity to point out, with convincing 
 cynicism, the uselcssness of building hopes upon the 
 loves of men and women. 
 
 Before Oliphant went away that night, Octavia, 
 lightly draped with a wrap that encircled her head like 
 a hood, met him again in the hall, and, discovering 
 that he would like to witness the polo games, invited
 
 146 NEWPORT. 
 
 him to lunch with Josephine and herself at High Lawn 
 and drive to the grounds. He was exceedingly grate 
 ful for her courtesy ; but the mutual relation that had 
 sprung up between them was not yet quite clear to 
 him. He had expected that some constraint would 
 trammel them, after the disclosure of the letter ; but, 
 to his astonishment, there had resulted an increased 
 freedom and intimacy, notwithstanding which he sus 
 pected that they actualty stood farther apart than be 
 fore. She now treated him, he was aware, with more 
 art. " Still," he assured himself, "that is only be 
 cause she feels the difficulty of putting me at my ease. 
 Yes, yes ; she's a generous woman."
 
 rx. 
 
 POLO, AND CERTAIN POSSIBILITIES. 
 
 HALF an hour before the time for polo, the next 
 afternoon, Peny Thorburn issued from a street 
 near the Cliffs, driving his trap solemnly down Narra- 
 gansett Avenue, accompanied by a groom with arms 
 discreetly folded. Perry had already indued his tight- 
 fitting riding costume, but it was entirely concealed by 
 his long Newmarket overcoat, which allowed only the 
 yellow-bordered boots, that projected below, to betray 
 his errand. He held the reins, however, with peculiar 
 gravity ; he was conscious of his exalted mission ; you 
 might easily have supposed him a volunteer victim go 
 ing to some heathen sacrifice, for the good of the com 
 munity at large. Roland De Peyster, who was captain 
 of the opposing side, the reds, made his entry upon 
 the polo field from another quarter, with equal state. 
 People in carnages, on horseback, and on foot kept 
 assembling, until the immense enclosure within the 
 high board fence was thickly fringed with a brilliant 
 concourse. Bannerets fluttered from the marquees in 
 one corner, and a baud dispersed brazen melodies 
 through the wide, warm air ; there was a great array 
 of pretty costumes, and waving ribbons, and lovely, 
 
 147
 
 148 NEWPORT. 
 
 expectant faces : the scene was festal, yet the fashion 
 able crowd was under the spell of a subdued propriety 
 which threw a solemn tinge over the scene. Solemnly, 
 too, the eight players came out from the tents, and tho 
 blues rode down to the lower end of the field. Then, 
 at a given signal, Thorburn. and De Peyster charged 
 for the centre crease, where the ball lay awaiting them. 
 For a few seconds nothing was heard except the 
 dull, rapid pounding of the ponies' hoofs on the thin 
 sward. Thud, thud, thud, they went : every one was 
 breathless, waiting to see who should get the first 
 stroke ; but De Peyster's pony was the swiftest, and 
 with a sharp, nervous click he sent the ball flying, 
 before Thorburn could reach it, a good half-way to 
 wards the enemy's goal. Instantly Thorburn wheeled, 
 and all the other players closed in. They made a 
 queer sight, dressed in tight flannel shirts, with fantas 
 tically patterned ornament of stripes, bars, and spots, 
 and wearing round, fiat-topped caps. They appeared 
 like so many imps 'starting into sudden action. Flying 
 hither and thither, wheeling abruptly, bending forward, 
 and skimming the ground with their long, unwieldy 
 mallets, the}' scurried after the ball with the agile incon 
 sequence of kittens, yet in deadly earnest, and never 
 uttering a sound except a few short, sharp cries now 
 and then, which came to the spectators as inarticulate 
 bursts. The silence of the whole proceeding was what 
 struck Oliphant : the punctilious, much-dressed assem 
 bly was silent, and so were the gentlemen on horse 
 back, erratically careering about in the centre. The 
 blues gained a temporary advantage, but not enough
 
 POLO, AND CERTAIN POSSIBILITIES. 149 
 
 to save them ; and with a few more judicious plays 
 the reds drove the ball between the enemy's pennants, 
 in some three minutes. 
 
 There was a very slight applause from a few gloved 
 hands ; the brass instruments blared again ; and after 
 a six minutes' interval the second game opened. Both 
 this and the third went, like the first, against Thor- 
 burn, although his men performed some excellent 
 feats. Once, the ball was driven out of bounds, and 
 a remarkably correct young man, who had Miss Loyall 
 on the box with him, ordered his groom to throw the 
 small object of contention back ; whereupon the play 
 ers began to whack at it fiercely, until Colonel Clancy, 
 who was acting as umpire, stopped them, and riding 
 down to the boundary rope called out to the correct 
 young man: "Don't you know any better than to 
 throw the ball in like that? " 
 
 "Oh aw, bog pahdon," said the culprit; and his 
 accent was received as making entire amends. 
 
 " It strikes me," said Oliphant to the ladies, " that 
 that's rather rough addressing a gentleman in that 
 style." 
 
 "Oh, no," Josephine assured him. "They have 
 to be very strict. Wiry, they won't let anybody go 
 inside the ropes, whatever happens." 
 
 Oliphant had dismounted, and stood beside the car 
 riage, so as to get a nearer view. He also had a 
 better view of Octavia and Josephine, who were re 
 markably effective that day ; the former sitting benr:itli 
 a small gold and violet dome of parasol, through which 
 the light streamed softly, and Josephine receiving a 
 peculiar glory from her crimson shelter.
 
 150 NEWPORT. 
 
 In the fourth game a prolonged struggle began. It 
 would have decided the day, if it had gone for the 
 reds ; but fortunately Thorburu had reserved his best 
 pony until now, and in his desperate efforts to turn 
 the tide, his blue and white shirt, his sunburned face 
 and amber hair, seemed to be in all parts of the field 
 at once. The crisis came when Richards, of the reds, 
 delivered a clever blow from under his pony, and sent 
 the ball rattling towards the blue flags, amid a good 
 deal of applause. Thorburn darted after it like light 
 ning, with both sides in full chase ; then, with a neat 
 back stroke, he reversed its direction, whirled around, 
 and carried the crowd with him. Young Chiseling, 
 however, of De Peyster's party, had hnng back to 
 keep the red goal ; and seeing the ball go free, a little 
 on one side, he bore down to strike it. Thorburn 
 quickly noticed this move, and had already urged his 
 pony with nervous leaps towards the same spot. He 
 came shooting by, only a few yards from where Oli- 
 phant stood ; and the next instant the two riders had 
 clashed together and were thrown. They lay upon 
 the grass slightly stunned, but the astonishing thing 
 about the accident was that the two ponies had strad 
 dled : Thorburn's, his fore feet forced up into the air 
 l)j the shock, had attempted to leap over Chiseling' s, 
 but had been unable to carry his hind legs clear, and 
 so remained caught, with two hoofs on the ground. 
 
 There were ineffectual little shrieks from some of 
 the ladies, and Clancy shouted, "Pull them apart, 
 before they get to kicking ! " 
 
 But he himself reined in at a safe distance, and the
 
 POLO, AND CERTAIN POSSIBILITIES. 151 
 
 players were gyrating in a knot, close to the led goal, 
 wholly absorbed. Chiseling rose and walked off with 
 a false and dazed attempt at self-possession, butThor- 
 buni could do no more than sit up. The ponies were 
 restive. Without stopping to reflect, Oliphant bent 
 under the rope and rushed out to the point of danger. 
 
 ''Get off the field!" thundered the umpire. The 
 onlookers echoed him with warning shouts and mur 
 murs. But Oliphant paid no attention : his blood was 
 up. He grasped Thorburn's pony by the bridle, pulled 
 with all his force, and compelled him to spring. This 
 freed the animal ; the other, turning sharply, trotted 
 away and was caught by Clancy. The next thing was 
 to lift Thorburn, who was soon able to move towards 
 the tent: at the same moment, luckily, the "ball was 
 driven through b} r the blues, who thus retrieved their 
 honor. 
 
 A double demonstration of approval greeted these 
 performances ; for, although Oliphant promptly retired 
 to his previous obscurity, he was received with the 
 warmest acknowledgments. There was quite a gen 
 eral clapping of hands in the neighborhood of Mrs. 
 Gifford's carriage ; and even Clancy came cantering 
 in pursuit, to thank Oliphaut for his service, while 
 warning him that the interference was against all rules 
 of the game. Atlee and Roger Dcering, who were not 
 far away, hastened up, to congratulate the hero of the 
 hour. kt By Jove, you know," said Atlee, glassing him 
 ah 1 over, " it was er 'm really tine, you know." 
 
 " Atlee means you're A 1," Roger remarked, grin 
 ning, and shaking his cousin's hand.
 
 152 NEWPORT. 
 
 All this was nothing to Oliphant, compared with the 
 homage that Octavia bestowed upon him. She gave 
 him the full depth of her eyes, and smiled entraucingly 
 as she said, "Bravo, Mr. Oliphant! I'm really proud 
 of you ; and I'm so glad you came with us, because 
 we can share in your glory." 
 
 Josephine said nothing, but she, too, smiled ; and 
 there was a quality in her long, slow, fascinating look 
 that penetrated Oliphant, stirred him in fact so pro 
 foundly that he experienced something like alarm. 
 Was it involuntary with her, or did it have a meaning? 
 
 Thorburn was not seriously hurt, but he found him 
 self unable to sit his horse iirmly, and had suffered a 
 sprain in one wrist ; accordingly, it was impossible to 
 go on with the games. Octavia and Josephine took 
 pains to drive over to the tent and inquire about his 
 Injunes, with a captivating appearance of being agi 
 tated ; and yet Oliphaut could see that he himself, 
 although he had not undergone the slightest damage, 
 was an object of far more interest to them. The flat 
 tery was like a bath of perfumes to him ; no sort of 
 discontent could trouble him now ; he wished that he 
 might go on living, for the rest of his term, in New 
 port and in the sight of Octavia. He drove with the 
 ladies, and then stopped at High Lawn a few minutes, 
 before leaving them. Josephine at first disappeared, 
 giving him an opportunity to speak with Octavia alone ; 
 and he improved it by telling her the singular episode 
 with Vivian Ware, which it seems that Justin had 
 recounted to him. 
 
 u You observed her at the grounds, didn't you," he
 
 POLO, AND CERTAIN POSSIBILITIES. 153 
 
 asked, " riding with the count? She means to disci 
 pline our young friend, I judge." 
 
 "That is, torture him," said Octavia, with compas 
 sionate warmth. " It's too bad too bad ! Mr. Oli- 
 phant," she added, utilizing all the charm of her most 
 confiding manner, "we must bring those two young 
 people together you and 1 ! " 
 
 "With all my heart," he said, stumbling over the 
 word, and wondered why she did not think that they 
 themselves might also be brought together. 
 
 Josephine then came back ; to whom, since she wr<,s 
 about departing for Jamestown, he made his farewell. 
 " Good-by," she responded, as she let her hand sink 
 into his. "If you haven't been to Conauicut, you 
 must come over and see us. My father, I'm sure, 
 would be glad to meet you." 
 
 Again he felt the power of her steady and controlling 
 gaze, to which Octavia was not blind, either ; for Oli- 
 phaiit, who had the temerity to possess intuitions as 
 quick as a woman's, saw that Octavia did not approve 
 of the fascination her friend was deploying for his 
 benefit. Well, he rather liked this : it was one more 
 drop of flattery. 
 
 The days that followed gave him many meetings 
 with Octavia at dinners, at dances, at picnics of a 
 stately, champagne-flavored kind near Paradise, or 
 among the beeches and box-hedges and bay-bushes of 
 the Glen, with its idle, mossy old grist-mill. He also 
 came once or twice to High Lawn. Having made ac 
 quaintance with some delightful people who lived in a 
 great house on Ocean Avenue, out of the Newport
 
 154 NEWPORT. 
 
 whirl, lie found himself one of a party invited to spend 
 a day there ; and, Octavia being present, he strayed 
 with her down a path in the rock, which stopped at 
 the sheer edge of an undermined point, called by a 
 picturesque terrorism The Pirate's Cave. Here they 
 were invisible to the rest of the company. There had 
 been a mirage all the morning, which threw Block 
 Island up on the horizon as an inverted shape of tow 
 ering sanely-tinted cliffs, in which the sails of becalmed 
 ships made vertical white rifts ; and this dim vision 
 had haunted Oliphant with a hint of expectancy. But 
 now it had vanished ; and the sea, from being green 
 compared with the sky, or pale blue beside the grass, 
 was a deep blue everywhere. 
 
 "A change of color is an event here," said Oli 
 phant. "It seems almost to change one's own mood." 
 
 " What is your mood, then? " asked Octavia. 
 
 " I could hardly tell you," he answered. " A while 
 ago I was looking forward ; and now I'm retrospec 
 tive." 
 
 " Ah," said she, with a little frown, " it isn't good 
 to be thinking of your past." 
 
 "I'm not : I'm thinking of yours ! " 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because that is where you seem to keep yourself. 
 I continually catch a look in your eye which shows 
 that you are wandering there. Why don't you live in 
 the present? " 
 
 " But what is the present?" she replied. "Does 
 n't it dissolve at the touch of a memory or a hope 
 the past or the future? "
 
 POLO, AND CERTAIN POSSIBILITIES. 155 
 
 " I wish it could," he exclaimed fervently, " at the 
 touch of a hope ! ' ' 
 
 A huge wave rolled into the cavern, as he spoke, 
 and exploded there with a muffled sound like a knell. 
 
 "You're dissatisfied, then, with things as they are? " 
 
 " In one sense, very much so ; in another, not at all. 
 But I can imagine something better." 
 
 " There's where we differ," Octavia rejoined. " I'm 
 very well content now ; but my past was so complete 
 and so sunny that there could hardly be any thing 
 better." 
 
 " Well, j'ou've heard me hint often enough that 
 mine was a dreary failure. I gave my life up to one 
 woman, and " He checked himself, promptly. 
 
 "Yes," said Octavia; "it seems as if one had to 
 be punished for too absolute a surrender. I gave my 
 self up, too: I was happy, as I've said, but that 
 letter, Mr. Oliphant, that letter! That has been my 
 punishment." It was the first time she had openly 
 referred to it since the evening at Mrs. Ware's. " I 
 should not say this to you," she added, " except that 
 j*ou have spoken frankly to me." 
 
 " I understand," he answered, appreciatively, more 
 and more drawn on to speak from his heart. ' ' But if 
 it is possible for even the happiest career to be shad 
 owed by a little thing, why should people let one 
 experience settle the problem? Isn't it permitted to 
 try again ? ' ' 
 
 "No, no!" she cried, in strange, unforeseen ex 
 citement. "You mustn't say that, Mr. Oliphant. 
 It's sacrilege ! "
 
 156 NEWPORT. 
 
 And as she turned upon him, he felt the flame of 
 her resentment; but he answered quietly: "You 
 ought to be more indulgent to poor, irrepessible 
 human nature. It has been ascertained that hope, 
 like truth, when crushed, granulated, or powdered, 
 will rise again." 
 
 She laughed faintly, and for a brief space they sat 
 gazing out upon the waters, which passing clouds had 
 suddenly softened to gray, seamed with many creeping 
 wave-lines ; a blind-looking ocean, yet watchful, as if 
 waiting and preparing for some particular event. 
 Then Octavia's glance came back to Oliphant, who in 
 his gray suit appeared like a part of the lichened rock 
 against which he was propped ; his face, too, like the 
 sea's, patient, prepared, but stronger. 
 
 There was a complete transformation in her when 
 she resumed the talk. " Do you believe," she dream 
 ily inquired, " that if a true love has once been given, 
 it can ever be given again, the same kind, I mean." 
 
 The hollow echo of an inrolling wave once more 
 resounded upon their ears. "Perhaps not the same," 
 Oliphant returned; "but there's always a question as 
 to which is the best kind. It's a hard lesson to learn 
 that the first conception, however exalted, may not be 
 the wisest." 
 
 Octavia had a secret sense that there had been a 
 lack in her first love ; it had not welded into itself the 
 substance of sorrow. Perhaps the love which should 
 exist in spite of disappointment or doubt was the 
 better developed sort as shadows prove an object to 
 be rounded. Fortifying herself against this suspicion,
 
 POLO, AND CERTAIN POSSIBILITIES. 157 
 
 she said, " Love is a mistake, and marriage is a mis 
 take, I fear. Looking back upon it, from our point 
 of view, as something which is over for us, doesn't it 
 strike you as strange that we should all be brought up 
 to expect success in a matter so difficult? People 
 ought to look to friendship, instead, which is the most 
 unselfish affection." 
 
 " I doubt that. But as for friendship, I thought it 
 was exhausted, too, until I met you, Mrs. Gifford. I 
 fancied my life was a desert, and that my heart was 
 turned to stone ; but all at once, here's a fresh foun 
 tain springing out of the rock." 
 
 "Be careful ! " Octavia interposed. " You're grow 
 ing poetic, and you must remember we've reached the 
 age of prose." 
 
 " "Well, even prose will do for expressing belief. I 
 wish you would believe, Mrs. Gifford." 
 
 "In what?" 
 
 "In the possibilities of the future." 
 
 She let her parasol droop, saying with dejection, " I 
 should be glad if there were any such buoyancy in me. 
 But hope and happiness have gone, Mr. Oliphant. 
 See how Justin and Vivian, who really have any quan 
 tity of faith, assume to be sceptical ; while I, who am 
 a sceptic, do my best to believe, and can't." 
 
 " Didn't you say, though, a few minutes since, that 
 you were content?" 
 
 "That was a conventional statement, a comparative 
 one : I'm giving you the unconventional truth, now. 
 Indeed, I shall never be contented again." 
 
 Oliphant rose to his feet, and stood before her on
 
 158 NEWPORT. 
 
 the narrow ledge. Behind him was the slowly chafing 
 sea ; a light wind brought up the scent of shell and 
 weed ; the tide boomed sullenly in the deep recesses. 
 There was Octavia, crouched against the granite wall, 
 like another Andromeda, and Oliphant wished that he 
 were Perseus. 
 
 "I shall never be content, myself," he said, with 
 his hand on the iron rail along the verge, " except in 
 one event." 
 
 A sparkle came from her eyes, rapid and keen as 
 the light from her diamonds. " What one thing could 
 have so much power?" she asked, with a half-trem 
 ulous smile that disintegrated his calmness. 
 
 "To see you happy," he exclaimed, "and to have 
 some share in making you so ! " 
 
 For an instant, Octavia was dismayed. Her hand, 
 with jewelled rings upon it, sought the rough stone 
 surface, for aid in rising ; but Oliphant was quick to 
 lend her his help, and she accepted it. 
 
 " You are very kind, to care so much about it," she 
 said. "But are yon not caring too much? Let me 
 warn you in time." She spoke in haste, uneasily ; 
 yet all the while a subtle pleasure played around her 
 lips, intoxicating Oliphant with the conviction that she 
 did not really wish to repel him. 
 
 " No, no, Mrs. Gifford ; I can't heed any warning ; 
 I can't take one. We have been thrown together 
 strangely, by a fate that we couldn't control. Do you 
 suppose I can control my interest in you, either? And 
 would you be willing to take from me the one thing 
 that makes life valuable to me now ? ' '
 
 POLO, AND CERTAIN POSSIBILITIES. 159 
 
 "How can I take that away? "she asked, in a 
 whisper ; but he could hear it through the beating of 
 the breeze. 
 
 " By denying me yonr companionship," he returned 
 earnestly. "I want to be near you constantly, to do 
 something for you ; to be your reliance." 
 
 "Oh, it's impossible," murmured Octavia, shrink 
 ing slightly towards the high rock. " How can you 
 expect that, Mr. Oliphant? What are you dreaming 
 of?" 
 
 "Ah, if that's the way it strikes you," said Oli 
 phant, " it is all useless ; yes, it's only a dream, then ! 
 You need nothing ; you are really happy enough, and 
 my wish is a selfish one." 
 
 She made the slightest perceptible gesture of remon 
 strance, and seemed impelled to start towards him. 
 "It is not selfish," said she, in melting tones. "I 
 thank you for your generous feeling ; indeed, I do. 
 But you know people can't form such companionships : 
 there is no room in this world for the finest impulses." 
 
 Scintillant reflections from the water chased each 
 other over the granite surface behind Octavia, and 
 dazzled Oliphant ; but the conflicting moods that flitted 
 across her face dazzled and bewildered him still more. 
 She seemed alternately a coy girl unwilling to be won ; 
 a woman recognizing with devout joy the dawn of love ; 
 a shape of distant perfection, wholly unattainable. 
 Through it all, he held to the one thought that he de 
 sired her more than any thing on earth, and, however 
 mad the scheme, was determined to win her. 
 
 "You told me," he said, growing bold as he grew
 
 1GO NEWPORT. 
 
 agitated, "that friendship is the best affection. But 
 if there's no place for our friendship, there may be for 
 something else." 
 
 Octavia started, but she made no sharp protest. In 
 stead, she gazed at him meditatively for a moment, 
 and he discerned in her large inquiring eyes a womanly 
 sense of the devotion which he offered a tenderness 
 blended with pity and pride. She, however, raised 
 one finger to her lips in admonition. 
 
 "It's time for us to be interrupted, Mr. Oliphant, 
 if you have come to that. Shall we interrupt our 
 selves ? ' ' 
 
 "Are you going to joke me? " he asked, with pain. 
 " Surely you see how much in earnest I am. You will 
 listen and consider? " 
 
 She detected the transfiguring light upon his fea 
 tures, as he leaned nearer towards her. "I I didn't 
 mean to joke," she said, with seductive contrition. 
 Oliphaut believed then that she would yield to his 
 entreaty that she should hear him. Suddenly there 
 came a shock of change ; apprehension seemed to have 
 assailed her ; she clasped her hands, and cried out, 
 ' No, I cannot listen ! Don't ask me to, don't ask 
 me." 
 
 An undertone as of sobbing rang in that cry, and 
 Oliphaut' s forehead grew white and wrinkled with 
 anxiety. " Why do you look at me so, Mrs. Gifford? 
 What have I done?" 
 
 " Look? How am I looking? " 
 
 "You seem angry, as well as pained. I should 
 think that you hated and despised me for this."
 
 POLO, AND CERTAIN POSSIBILITIES. 161 
 
 At that instant a gull came wheeling through the 
 air above them, with a weird, vibrating scream ; and 
 the hollow rock was filled again with the baffled roar 
 of a retreating billow. 
 
 Octavia's eyes fell, and she said very slowly, " No, 
 I do not hate you." 
 
 He recovered hope at once. "Then you forgive 
 me," he concluded buoyant!}- ; " and you will let me 
 speak, some time. Will you think of what I have 
 said?" 
 
 The wildness of her outburst had died away, and 
 the indescribable smile mingled of coquetry and undis 
 guised emotion, which Oliphant had already noticed, 
 resumed its sway, as she answered: "At least, I 
 sha'n't be likely to forget it."
 
 X. 
 
 YOUNG THORBURN AND OLD THORBTJRN. 
 
 ~T)ERRY discovered that there were compensations 
 for his accident on the polo-field, which would 
 almost have persuaded him to undergo another like it. 
 He made a languid state progress from his father's 
 enormous villa on the Cliffs to the Casino, the Club, 
 the houses of his friends ; carrying his arm in a sling, 
 and accepting the solicitude, the admiration, and the 
 fervent good wishes of many beautiful young ladies and 
 sweetly judicious mammas. Not a bad fellow was this 
 Perry, by nature ; but he had of course been spoiled as 
 a boy, and it was quite delightful to him to find that 
 he could now indulge himself with a complete relapse 
 into unreasonableness, on the excuse of an injured 
 arm. He enjoyed the affectionate abasement of his 
 mother and the uncouth tenderness of his father, both 
 of whom suffered from a belief (and yet were pleased 
 by it) that they did not come up to his standard. He 
 also enjoyed being taken out on the avenue by some of 
 the best "whips" among the ladies, and resigning 
 himself like a wounded veteran to their graceful man 
 agement of the reins. Frequently he sailed over to 
 Jamestown, to call on Josephine ; and as the Thor- 
 162
 
 YOUNG TUORBURN AND OLD THOB13URN. 163 
 
 burns had brought 110 yacht to Newport, Raish Porter 
 quickly saw the advantage of placing his own boat at 
 Perry's disposal. All this time, however, Perry tor 
 tured his household with the most capricious moods, 
 and took especial pains to make Quisbrough the victim 
 of his pseudo-invalidism. 
 
 Quisbrough still exercised a feeble tutorial function, 
 although Perry had reached the age of twenty-four. 
 The young man had never been to college. As Quis 
 brough once confidential!}' remarked, "At first, owing 
 to Perry's want of appreciation for the requirements, 
 Harvard wouldn't admit him ; and afterwards, in re 
 taliation, he refused to admit Harvard." He was 
 understood to be pursuing advanced studies in private, 
 and even entertained notions of astonishing the world, 
 some da}- ; but his instructor really had little to do, 
 be} 7 oud certain duties as secretary to Thorburn senior 
 and the submitting himself to Perry's persecutions. 
 He was obliged to go in the yacht to Jamestown, 
 remaining fixed on board while the autocrat spent an 
 hour or two with Josephine ; and afterwards he had to 
 listen to his charge's laudations of that young woman, 
 his sentimental anxieties, and his peevish dissatisfac 
 tion because both his father and Mr. Hobart opposed 
 a union with her : the former for the reason that he 
 wanted his vast fortune to be joined, through his son's 
 marriage, with some other immense accumulation ; 
 while Mr. Hobart strenuously demurred at the idea of 
 losing his daughter's care and companionship, in his 
 increasing age and ill-health. 
 
 Returning from one of these trips, Perry insisted
 
 164 NEWPORT. 
 
 upon stretching himself, propped by a pillow, on a sofa 
 in his father's library, a long and wide, low-studded 
 apartment, fitted up with much grandeur of dark-hued 
 wood, rows of elegant, unread books in solid cases 
 which, viewing their dead and useless contents, one 
 might have considered the catacombs of literature 
 and as many other appliances for display as the archi 
 tect and furnisher had allowed. The windows were of 
 plain glass, but were heavily leaded in a pattern some 
 what resembling a spider-web. The proprietor of this 
 lordly place was seated at an immense desk the high 
 altar of his religion bestowed in a capacious alcove ;, 
 one that could be shut off at will from the main apart 
 ment, and had a vaulted ceiling on which the web de 
 sign re-appeared. He was extracting benefit from his 
 seaside leisure by reading some cipher despatches which 
 had just come from New York through his private wire. 
 The click of the instrument, in charge of a private 
 operator, could be heard through an open door leading 
 from the library ; and there was so much privacy alto 
 gether about the arrangement that to any one but Perry 
 it would have been sacred. The only tribute, however, 
 that he paid to the established cult was the incense of 
 a cigar which he proceeded to light. 
 
 " Why do you come in here, boy?" asked his father, 
 turning his head for an instant towards Perry. Thor- 
 burn was so heavy a man, his head was so cumbrous, 
 that he seemed hardly capable of looking at any one-; 
 but the aspect of shrewd and searching intelligence 
 marked upon the bulk} T , almost brutish features was 
 distinct, and became, by contrast with their dull weight,
 
 YOUNG THORBURN AND OLD TH ORB URN. 165 
 
 rather unpleasant in fact, terrif}'ing at times, like 
 the sudden projection of a tree or a rock at night, 
 which transiently takes on the appearance of a mon 
 ster's head. " Haven't you got rooms enough of your 
 own ? " he continued. " I'm bus}'." 
 
 "That's the reason I came," said his son. " I like 
 to see you doing business." 
 
 Old Thorburn settled himself into his former posi 
 tion, as a sign of his displeasure, and was soon ab 
 sorbed again. Perry, having waited for this, resumed : 
 " Besides, I've got something to speak about." 
 
 " Can't hear it," said his father, without moving. 
 
 " Well, it's just as you like," Perry answered, im- 
 perturbably. " I thought it would be fair to tell you, 
 but I'll go ahead an} 7 way, without consulting you." 
 
 "What is it?" Mr. Thorburn asked, in a voice as 
 heavy as his features, as heavy as a sponge full of 
 water. ' ' Business ? ' ' 
 
 "No. More important than that. I'm going to 
 marry Josephine Ilobart." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Mr. Thorburn, dropping his 
 papers and facing round. "After my stating ex 
 pressly that I disapprove of it?" He rose, walked 
 across the room, and closed the door of the private 
 telegraph-office. "Have you spoken to her? " 
 
 "No," said Perry, in a very comfortable manner, 
 with his cigar in his mouth. " But I'm going to, 
 soon." 
 
 At this point, Mr. Thorburn noticed that Quisbrough 
 had remained in the room. "You may leave us," he 
 said to the tutor-secretary. "This is private," and
 
 166 NEWPORT. 
 
 with a short, arbitrary gesture, he indicated the sur 
 roundings, himself, and Perry. 
 
 But Perry, seeing an opportunity to embarrass Quis- 
 brough, said : " No, Quiz, I'd rather have you stay. 
 lie knows all about it," he added, to his father. 
 
 Quisbrough, without looking at either of them, con 
 tinued the perusal of a small book which he had taken 
 from his pocket, and did not move. 
 
 "Very well, sir," continued Thorburn, addressing 
 Perry, " let us have an explanation. You must be 
 crazy ! Why, you haven't finished your education 
 yet." 
 
 "No, I haven't," the young man returned; "but, 
 for all that, I know a good deal more than you do 
 about some things." 
 
 Quisbrough, leaning against the base of a book-case, 
 glanced up with a little quirk in his thick beard, that 
 apparently resulted from a smile. "Perry flatters 
 me," he observed, "beyond my deserts." 
 
 " You know a lot more about infernal impudence," 
 Thorburn proceeded, to his only child, "than I could 
 afford at your age ; and that's about all you have 
 learned. It's pretty near time for me to give you a les- 
 so or two myself, and I'm damned if I don't do it." 
 
 The heir of the estate smiled blandly, and leaned 
 back on his pillow. "There," said he, "is where 
 you're considerably off your chump, if you think you 
 can teach me. I don't see the use of getting excited : 
 I only thought it would make things pleasanter and 
 smoother if I gave you fair notice that I'm going to 
 marry Josephine ; and that's all there is to it."
 
 YOUNG THORBURN AND OLD TUORBURN. 167 
 
 Old Thorburn glowered at him for a moment. The 
 millionnaire had a big face, with long and copious side- 
 whiskers that enclosed a huge shaven area about the 
 coarsely moulded lips and chin ; and the big eyes above 
 bis well-fed and well-wined cheeks disclosed, even in 
 his genial moments, a semi-indignant expression, as if 
 they were outraged by the unfortunate spectacle of the 
 lower face over which they were compelled to take 
 their observations. At present they were more indig 
 nant than usual. "Look here, Perry," he inquired 
 finally, "do you suppose I'm going to submit to this? 
 Do you really mean to tell me that without resources 
 of your own no business, no opportunities nothing 
 but the hundred thousand or so that I've given you, 
 you're going to undertake a marriage against my will? 
 You can't be such a fool ! " 
 
 Perry exhaled a meditative wreath of smoke. 
 "Well," he replied, gently, "I should relax my fea 
 tures ; I should murmur ever so sweetly." 
 
 " What does the cub mean," Thorburn asked, turn 
 ing helplessly to Quisbrough, "by those idiotic phrases ? 
 Does he mean yes or no? " 
 
 "On the whole," said Quisbrough gravely, "I 
 should say he meant yes." 
 
 " Right you are," declared Perry, nodding his head. 
 
 "Then, all I've got to say," his father exclaimed, 
 growing redder in the face and squaring his big body 
 at the reclining athlete, " is this : I forbid it ! I won't 
 have it, I tell you ! And I'll find ways to stop it, if I 
 want ; you may be sure of that. Why, old IIobaH is 
 opposed to it, too he told me so; and I'll make it
 
 168 NEWPORT. 
 
 for bis interest to be still more opposed. Or if that 
 won't do, I'll buy the girl off, herself." 
 
 Perry leaped from the couch at one bound. " Stop 
 that, sir!" he cried. "There's one thing you can't 
 do, any way ; and that is, "insult the lady I mean to 
 marry. By thunder, if it comes to that, I walk 
 straight out of this house and stay out. Take your 
 choice." In his excitement, he tore the lame arm free 
 from its bandage. 
 
 The magnate was cowed, for an instant. The owner 
 of railroj|ds and parts of railroads and masses of the 
 national debt ; the great operator in stocks ; the man 
 who had bought up a line of Newport steamers merely 
 as a diversion, and was running them in sumptuous 
 style, with bands of music to give a concert on every 
 trip ; the owner of sundry revered trotting-horses ; the 
 dealer in legislatures below par ; this individual, I 
 say, was frightened by a few manly words from his 
 useless and indolent son. Nevertheless, he growled, 
 after a pause, though not without a strain of concilia 
 tion in the gruff, guttural speech : " It's strange that I 
 can't have my own way in a matter like this a mat 
 ter right in my own family. I've bought things a 
 deuced sight more important than the obedience of a 
 boy or the refusal of a girl." Here a humorous con 
 traction of the muscles rolled his lips back in a grim 
 smile. " But filial affection, I suppose, is a luxury 
 that I ought to appreciate, even if I get it for nothing." 
 He was pleased with his sarcasm, but, growing angry 
 again, he continued : " All the same, I won't have this 
 thing. Mind now I'm opposed to it, first and last ;
 
 YOUNG THORBUBN AND OLD THORBURN. 109 
 
 * 
 
 and if you persist, I'll disinherit you at least for 
 your mother's life and cut you down to the lowest 
 figure, any way you can fix it." 
 
 " Oh, I know you're a hard customer, when you've 
 made your mouth up," sa^l Perry, returning to slang. 
 This indirect allusion to the unfortunate feature in his 
 father's physiognomy was by no means soothing. 
 " Still, I've got some capacity, too, for going ahead, 
 when I want to. I'm not afraid." 
 
 " Will you allow me one word?" Quisbrough now 
 interposed, seemingly fatigued to the point of somno 
 lence. " It strikes me, Mr. Thorburn, that you're for 
 getting just for the moment our American principles 
 of free action, and so forth. What you propose to do 
 would be all very well in the old country, but it doesn't 
 suit the genius of our institutions. You see, you 
 haven't got any background for it." 
 
 " Background ! " roared Thorburn. " What do you 
 call this?" He waved his arm, and as it were swept 
 the whole vista of the opulent room at his critic : the 
 panelled wood ceiling, the luxurious chairs, the sham 
 old armor, and the spider-web tracery of the leaded 
 windows. "What do you call my business interests? 
 If all that isn't background enough, I don't know 
 where you'll find it." 
 
 " It's as good as possible, in its way," said the sec 
 retary, whose sedate manner of treating the question 
 in a philosophic mood filled Perry with satirical joy ; 
 u but what I refer to is the social system of the coun 
 try. We need two or three centuries of a well-defined 
 money aristocracy, with entail a-|d a fixed principle of
 
 170 NEWPORT. 
 
 
 
 parental authority, before a man can expect to control 
 his son's matrimonial choice." 
 
 Thorburn did not fail to see that his adroit employee, 
 although assuming the position of a futile theorizer, 
 had really opened for him <lhe best way out of the 
 dispute. Besides, he was rapidly sketching, in the 
 close-barred retirement of his own mind, where there 
 was neither secretary nor private wire, a delectable 
 scheme for impressing his unruly offspring, and getting 
 him into a " tight place ; " and, sharp though his irri 
 tation remained, the first move in that scheme must, 
 he was aware, be to conciliate Perry. 
 
 He affected to ponder Quisbrough's words. " Per 
 haps you are right," he said, throwing into his reply 
 a careful reluctance. "If I wanted any traditions 
 badly enough, I guess I could make 'em for- myself; 
 still, you may be right, Quisbrough. It may be better 
 to float with the current in this particular case. Well, 
 Perry, my boy," his demeanor softened into some 
 thing like that of a trained bear, "I don't like it, 
 but I shall try to make the best of it, if it's bound to 
 happen. ' First catch your hare,' though : you've got 
 to get the young lady's consent." 
 
 " I'll attend to that," replied the other, serenely. 
 
 "Then suppose we drop the subject. I shall have 
 something to say to you by and by ; some hints that 
 may be useful. But not now: I'm busy." Saying 
 which, Thorburn reseated himself at his desk. 
 
 " All right. Come along, Quiz," said Perry. "I 
 want you to fix up this sling for me." He began 
 chuckling, after they left the room. " By Jove, the
 
 YOUNG Tn ORB URN AND OLD TH ORB URN. 171 
 
 old man was bowled over pretty easily, eh? Hadn't 
 any idea he'd give in. Now we've got to settle Hobart, 
 and I don't see how to do it. Do you? " 
 
 His companion professed a total inability to assist, 
 but at once began to cogitate upon methods of doing 
 so. It was not long before circumstances placed in 
 his hands a complete outline of the measures to be 
 adopted. Raish Porter, having lent his yacht to Perry 
 for the excursions to Jamestown, found opportunities 
 to cany him off now and then, on brief cruises up the 
 bay or along the outer shore ; and in the course of 
 these miniature voyages he allowed particulars to be 
 drawn from him respecting the important enterprises of 
 the Orbicular Manufacturing Company. With the dif 
 fidence of a man who is sure in the ownership of a 
 property that must naturally excite the envy of others, 
 he let fall significant items about the new patents for 
 cotton-roving machines which he controlled ; he :ilso 
 alluded to valuable railroad appliances to be produced 
 by the Orbicular Company, the monopoly of which 
 alone would bring in a princely revenue. By and by 
 he allowed him to learn that Mr. Hobart was a heavy 
 investor in the concern ; a fact which stimulated Perry's 
 attention to a wonderful degree. 
 
 " I presume," said Raish heartily, " since it's no 
 secret , that you know of the attacks which have 
 been made on the company and myself, during the lust 
 few weeks. They were started by one of those black 
 mailing commercial papers no account and have 
 been taken up by a few others. But look at the great 
 dailies. The Luminary, of course, is down on us
 
 172 NEWPORT. 
 
 down on every thing, if it thinks there's half a chance. 
 The Trumpeter writes one way first, and then the other, 
 so's to be ' independent.' But all the rest steer clear, 
 and there hasn't been a particle of evidence produced 
 yet. The best answer to these slanders is the big fac 
 tory we're putting up out in Jersey : it'll cost us a 
 quarter of a million. You can't imagine, though, how 
 annoying this irresponsible onslaught is. Some of the 
 best men are stockholders, but we have really been 
 slightly impeded by this thing ; capital, you know, is 
 so sensitive. Still, you remember, it has been said 
 that ' half the failures in life arise from pulling in one's 
 horse as he is leaping ; ' and I don't propose to pull 
 mine in just now. Not by a long sight!" Ilaish 
 laughed with great good cheer, in conclusion. 
 
 Quisb rough waited for Perry to broach the topic, 
 when they were alone, and then he gradually admitted, 
 with an apologetic air, that since Porter was evidently 
 prepared to accept a new subscriber for Orbicular stock, 
 and also had great influence with Hobart, his energies 
 might be enlisted to break down the old gentleman's 
 objection to the match with Josephine, if Perry should 
 put money into the new company. Such a mano2uvre 
 strongly commended itself to the millionnaire's son, 
 who fancied that he saw in it the means of outwitting 
 his father, and at the same time conducting a profitable 
 business operation for himself. Within a day or two, 
 accordingly, he arrived at an understanding with Por 
 ter, and agreed to take a large number of shares in the 
 Orbicular. 
 
 Meanwhile, he crossed the bay again, to see Jose-
 
 YOUNG TUOEBUEN AND OLD TIIOEBUEN. 173 
 
 phine. She was staying with her father at a barren old 
 farm-house, which stood out in the green fields, sur 
 rounded by a few stunted trees ; and as Perry ap 
 proached, he found the small covered piazza in sole 
 possession of the old gentleman, assisted by a brood 
 of dauntless chickens who were wandering all over it. 
 ' ' What a frightful place for her to be in !" thought 
 the gallant suitor, as he had often thought before. 
 
 Small Mr. Ilobart, white-bearded, red-nosed, fussy, 
 laid down his paper, and presented to the suitor a 
 countenance barred by a pair of gold spectacles, which 
 appeared to restrain and imprison the choleric wearer, 
 compelling him to observe an artificial civility. He 
 greeted Perry much more cordially than usual. " Glad 
 to see } r ou," he said. " It shows you have some sense, 
 to get away occasionally from that ridiculous merry-go- 
 round on the other side of the water, and come over 
 here. I've heard some news about 3^011, too : it seems 
 you're beginning to make a business man of yourself." 
 
 Perry blushed, as well as he could with his sunburned 
 complexion ; in part from modesty, but still more from 
 pride at the first sign of success attending his machina 
 tion. 
 
 " Well, yes," he said, "I've been talking with Mr. 
 Porter a little about your new company. It's a good 
 thing, isn't it?" 
 
 "Splendid, sir!" exclaimed Mr. Hobart, in r. 
 cracked voice, taking a pull at the short brier pipe he 
 was smoking. " You can't do better, as a beginning. 
 Lucky change for you: there, ain't many men 1 oiler 
 would think of letting in ; but I'm glacl he's inclined
 
 174 NEWPORT. 
 
 to give you a block, I swear. You didn't come here to 
 talk business, though," the retired merchant continued, 
 giving a wretched imitation of hilarity in the form of 
 a shattered laugh. " Josie isn't in the house ; she's 
 just walked up the road, there. I guess you'll over 
 take her, though, if you follow." 
 
 And Perry did overtake her. Exactly what occurred 
 need not be recited here in detail ; but half an hour 
 later, Quisbrough beheld his overgrown pupil striding 
 down to the water's edge at an impatient pace. He 
 came out in a boat to the yacht, and boarded her without 
 uttering a syllable ; he maintained a rigorous silence, 
 in fact, all the way home. But it was not the silence 
 of satisfaction ; and at length scattered ejaculations, 
 like the first drops of a storm, began to fall upon Quis 
 brough, making known to him the result of the inter 
 view. Josephine had not refused Perry ; but she had 
 put him off, had asked him to wait. Over and over 
 there recurred to his mind with galling persistence the 
 excuses, the delays, the remonstrances, she had made. 
 
 " I am almost sure of gaining your father over," he 
 had said ; " and, even without that, I should still ask 
 you to marry me. I want to take you away from this 
 brokeu-up, unhappy sort of life you lead with him, and 
 to place you where you belong. Fortunately, I shall 
 have all the means for giving you surroundings that 
 would be worthy of you, Josephine. It will be pleas 
 ure enough for my whole life, only to do that. But if 
 I were miserably poor, I should love you just the same, 
 and have just the same ambition for you. Is that 
 nothing to you?"
 
 YOUNG TUOEBUEN AND OLD THOEBUEN. 175 
 
 " Ah no, no ; you do really love me, I am certain," 
 she replied, regarding him calmly, dreamily, with her 
 dark, restful eyes ; " and to know it, I will tell you 
 fairly, is a great deal to me, whether I will or not. 
 But" 
 
 " Oh, you mean you can't return my sentiments," 
 he interrupted, hotly. " Is that it? " 
 
 "Don't force me to say so, Mr. Thorburn," she 
 admonished him. Her bearing was as serene, as un 
 affected and yet queenly, standing there with one elbow 
 leaned on the roadside stone-wall, and with open, wind 
 swept fields stretching out on every side, as it would 
 have been if they had met in the most formal drawing- 
 room of Newport. 
 
 " I only want to know the hard fact," he declared, 
 obstinately. "Whatever it may be, I warn you I shall 
 try to overcome it : I can't help trying. But only let 
 me know. Oh ! " he suddenly exclaimed, clapping one 
 hand to his temple with unmerciful sharpness. " Per 
 haps that's it, but I never thought of it. I might have 
 known, though : you you are thniking of some one 
 else!" 
 
 Josephine desisted from her unfaltering gaze, and 
 the long eyelashes swept downward as she answered, 
 almost repeating her former appeal, " Don't ask me. 
 I can't say that, either." 
 
 "Then, if it isn't so," he implored, "what is the 
 reason ? What can be the difficulty ? ' ' 
 
 She bent her glance, as it happened, towards the 
 bay ; she turned towards the spot where distant New 
 port lay in a confused mass of huddled gray roofs and
 
 176 NEWPORT. 
 
 spires on the dim opposite shore. There was a strange 
 expectancy in her mein, as if she awaited an impossi 
 ble relief from that quarter. " Mr. Thorburu," she 
 said, in honest distress, " I beg you won't go on. I 
 can't explain ; truly, I can't. I respect your devotion 
 and your kindness, and I don't want to inflict any hurt 
 upon you ; but oh, indeed, you mustn't ask me any 
 more ! " 
 
 Nothing had availed to wring from her any utterance 
 more satisfactory than this ; and so poor Perry, who 
 had counted with such assurance upon his factitious 
 advantages and his unqualified affection, was left to 
 reconcile himself to the baffling situation as well or ill 
 as he could. He promptly adopted the expedient of 
 becoming reckless. As may well be guessed, nothing 
 was revealed to his father concerning the set-back he 
 had encountered ; but the wily old manipulator noted 
 in him signs of a desperation, which, however, was still 
 temperate, if one may say so. Perry avoided the soci 
 ety of ladies, now, and hung about the clubs, drinking 
 and smoking a good deal ; he also dropped in at the 
 secret and luxurious gambling-place, politely supposed 
 not to exist, where Stillman Ware often sought diver 
 sion. One day old Thorburn summoned him, being 
 ready to ignite the train he had laid. 
 
 "I see you are restless," he said, " and I think I 
 can guess why. Of course it's natural you should feel 
 the responsibilities of the line you are taking. You 
 need more money than you've got, and you don't know 
 how to make it." 
 
 " No, I suppose I don't know much about that,"
 
 YOUNG THORBURN AND OLD THOEBUEN. 177 
 
 said Perry, amused to think what a surprise he would 
 give the old gentleman with his manufacturing-stock, 
 by and by. 
 
 " AVell, this is what I referred to, the other day 
 hints I wanted to give. You haven't considered my 
 feelings nor obeyed my wish about Miss Hobart ; but 
 I shall do you a good turn, notwithstanding. Do you 
 know how Transcontinental Telegraph stands now ? ' ' 
 
 As this was one of the most uncertain among the 
 great speculative stocks, Perry could uot sa}- precisely ; 
 and his father gave him the quotation. " My ticker," 
 he said, " showed it at seventy-one and three-quarters, 
 about ten minutes ago. I advise you to buy in for a 
 rise." Thorburn was exceedingly amiable, at this 
 moment, but contrived also to make his advice as im 
 pressive as a command. 
 
 " Is there going to be a ' deal ' ? " his son inquired, 
 eying him intelligently. 
 
 "If there were," said his father, "it wouldn't do 
 for me to tell you any thing about it. Now, I don't 
 want you to ask questions : I only advise you to buy. 
 After you have jumped in, you must rely on your own 
 swimming. I sha'n't explain to you what you're to 
 do ; but I feel confident we shall see Transcontinental 
 at ninety-five, or par, before many weeks are over. 
 And by the way, my boy, don't mention this to any 
 one, unless it be two or three of your intimate friends." 
 
 Perry was quite captivated by his father's conversion 
 and kindness. He at once sent an order to Roger 
 Deering, in New York, to make a considerable purchase 
 of Transcontinental for his account. That proceeding
 
 178 NEWPORT. 
 
 was followed by a creditable impulse to show Raish 
 Borne gratitude for his service with regard to Mr. IIo- 
 bart; for although matters did not yet advance any 
 farther in Perry's wooing of Josephine, Raish's argu 
 ments had been effectual .at all events in gaining her 
 father's assent. He had represented to Mr. Hobart 
 that the cash assets, of which just then their company 
 stood most indigently in need, would be furnished by 
 young Thorburu, provided Josephine were not tram 
 melled by parental opposition. Nothing could have 
 been more natural than that, by way of returning this 
 favor, Pcriy should have bethought him of imparting 
 to Raish the priceless suggestion which his father had 
 thrown out. To disregard a hint from this source 
 would have seemed to Porter a folly for which he would 
 never be able to pardon himself ; moreover, the pros 
 pect of a swift and colossal profit was one that, in the 
 temporary embarrassment of his manufacturing pro 
 ject, was' peculiarly acceptable. He, too, began buying ; 
 and somehow many other people in Newport, in New 
 York, in other cities, or in simple, uncovetous country 
 regions, were seized with a like inspiration at the same 
 time. They winged their way to the brokers for Trans 
 continental, even as bees fare to the garden for honey. 
 As a consequence, the stock went up several points in 
 a few days. Meanwhile, old Thorburn, to whose in 
 dustry this cheering circumstance was due, continued 
 to officiate at his altar-like desk in the little chancel or 
 alcove off the library ; and the tangled mouldings 
 above his head continued to figure the meshes of a web. 
 The special wire ran out from the houae like a thread
 
 YOUNG TIIORBURN AND OLD TUORBURN. 179 
 
 prolonged from those meshes ; it tingled and grew 
 alive with the quick, secret current of thought pulsat- 
 iug through it from the owner's brain ; and the owner 
 himself remained physically inert within, as deceptively 
 quiet as if he had actually been an enlarged and im 
 proved species of spider watchfully presiding over 
 those complicated filameuu>.
 
 XT. 
 
 OLIPHANT, OCTAVIA, AND JOSEPHINE. 
 
 AT this time Oliphant felt all the romance of his 
 youth returning to him. He was thoroughly and 
 beyond help in love with Octavia ; nothing that he 
 could remember, nothing that he could fear or fore 
 cast, had any power to restrain him from his one great 
 hope of making her his wife. When he recalled his 
 first passion for Alice Davenant which had thus far 
 been the single mastering emotion of kis life-time it 
 was only to wonder at the dim insubstantiality into 
 which it now faded : he was completely puzzled, and 
 remained unable to reconcile the two sentiments. In 
 variably he came back to the simple truth that it was 
 Octavia to whom he looked for a realization of perfect 
 happiness ; she it was for whom he wished to exist. 
 Certainly, he was troubled by a lingering tradition of 
 loyalty to Alice ; and the belief that Octavia also was 
 haunted by a theory of dedicating herself forever to 
 her lost husband constantly intervened, to make him 
 hesitate about bringing his hopes to another and a final 
 test. But then, too, the consideration would come up 
 that Alice, so far as the evidence went, had not found 
 in him the adequate companion that, for some reason, 
 180
 
 OLIPHANT, OCTAVIA, AND JOSEPHINE. 181 
 
 we human beings believe ourselves entitled to. Had 
 she, by a sardonic coincidence, made a fatal error in 
 refusing Gifford ; while he, too late, had met this ap 
 pointed counterpart in Octavia? The conflict between 
 these doubts and the one certainty did not, as we should 
 at first imagine, depress him. No ; it stimulated him ; 
 the tide of vitality flowed stronger and more buoyant 
 in him on account of them. At moments he suffered 
 intensely, but he rejoiced in his suffering. At other 
 times his spirits rose to a point of volatile gayety which 
 they had not attained in years. He had rapidly gained 
 standing in the most attractive and well-founded society 
 of the town, as a favorite against whom no objection 
 was heard ; and to escape the anxieties he felt respect 
 ing his fate with Octavia, he insensibly gave himself 
 up more and more to the intoxicating festivities which 
 offered on every side. He had been in the deep places 
 of sorrow long enough ; surely it was permissible for 
 him to float- on the surface, now, as much as he liked. 
 The object of Newport was pleasure, and pleasure 
 suited him perfectly. And so he came into a better 
 sympathy with the so-called frivolous world than he 
 had ever experienced until then. 
 
 " Yes," he replied to one of Raish's burly strictures, 
 " fashionable life here is hollow; but since all of us 
 are more or less hollow, why object to that ? Fashion 
 is not the fruit, it's merely the passing flower, of hu 
 man desires ; and the special beauty of a flower is that 
 it isn't solid." 
 
 Mary Dcering asked him if he was not convinced 
 that she had done wisely in counselling him to come
 
 182 NEWPORT. 
 
 thither, and he said vigorously: " Indeed you did ! Do 
 you know how it strikes me ? I feel as if I were one 
 of those figures on a drop-curtain. No matter what 
 tragedies have happened, or are to come, on the stage, 
 the drop-curtain population is always serene and sooth 
 ing, and lives in a softly colored landscape. It's so 
 here, too." 
 
 It was while Perry was still laboring under depres 
 sion that Oliphant strolled one day into the billiard- 
 room of the old Club, and found him there. Perry 
 was playing with De Peyster ; and, although it was 
 early in the afternoon, he had just ordered a second 
 bottle of champagne when our friend entered. " Here, 
 I'll pay up now," he said to the waiter. " How much 
 is it ? " And he pulled out from his trousers-pocket a 
 handkerchief, which dragged with it gold and silver 
 pieces that fell on the floor. Without noticing this 
 mishap, he dived into his pocket again, and produced 
 a handful of the precious metals, while the waiter was 
 collecting the crumbs of wealth already fallen. In 
 fact, every thing he did betrayed a disdainful heat of 
 temper. He stalked around the table as if it were 
 something he had a contempt for ; he spoke little with 
 De Peyster ; and he didn't recognize the existence of 
 Quisbrough, who sat in one of the cushioned chairs 
 fixed in a row at the side of the room ; except that 
 now and then he sent him a glass of wine. The tutor 
 alwa3*s drank it in silence, and went on smoking cigar 
 ettes imperturbably, his face subdued to a self-con 
 tained, dryly sagacious expression. Oliphant took a 
 place beside him. They had before now established
 
 OLIPHANT, OCTAVIA, AND JOSEPHINE. 183 
 
 a pleasant and easy-going acquaintance, and Quis- 
 brough had shown a willingness to accept Oliphant on 
 terms almost of intimacy, for he evidently trusted him. 
 
 " You are continuing your course of instruction, I 
 see," Oliphant observed. 
 
 "Yes," said Quiz. "It's decidedly arduous. I 
 have to cover so many branches. Just think of a man 
 undertaking to be an Alma Mater, and all by himself ! 
 That's what I have to do. I'm a walking college, 
 which has to go wherever Perry does ; and, what's 
 worse, I have to be professor at the same time. Just 
 at present I'm occupying the chair of billiards, you 
 notice. Very arduous, very ! " 
 
 After a while, Perry continuing his proud morose- 
 ness, the two onlookers strayed out together on the 
 roofless platform at the side of the club-house. " Your 
 undergraduate seems to be in a troubled state of mind," 
 said Oliphant. 
 
 " Yes ; he's luxuriating in a sentiment, I believe," 
 Quiz returned. 
 
 " My friend Porter has told me something about it," 
 Oliphant at once explained. "He's an extraordinary 
 fellow for finding out things. I infer that Perry has 
 confided a good deal to him, and I knew already of the 
 attachment to Miss Hobart. What a curious thing all 
 this love-making is, and the misery people create for 
 themselves out of it ! " 
 
 "Very odd," Quiz agreed, with sedate humor. 
 " It's not a part of the prescribed course for Perry 
 only an elective ; but as he has chosen it, I've been 
 obliged to read the subject up, and I don't mind say-
 
 184 NEWPORT. 
 
 ing that I fail to master it. If it's a science, it's the 
 science of unreason ; but if it's an art, it's the art of 
 helpless nature. Then, there are the different concep 
 tions of love in various ages and countries : no one 
 can say exactly what the essence is, common to all the 
 ideas of it. Nowadays we're governed mainly by what 
 Hegel calls the Romantic view. Would you like to 
 hear how he states it?" Straightway, Quiz hauled 
 forth a note-book and began reading: " ' The highest 
 phase of love is the devotion of the subject or person 
 to an individual of the opposite sex,' profound, isn't 
 it? ' the surrender of his independent consciousness, 
 and of his individual, isolated being-for-himself , which 
 feels itself to have become thoroughly penetrated with 
 its own knowledge of itself, for the first time, in the 
 consciousness of another.' Now, does that make it 
 any clearer?" He went on mumbling out words like 
 " abstract . . . concrete . . . individualized . . . my 
 entire subjectivity," until Oliphant laughingly stopped 
 him. 
 
 "That'll do for the philosophy of it," he said. 
 
 "Oh, well, I'm crammed with the poetry of the 
 thing, too," responded Quiz, ruffling the leaves of his 
 little book. " The sum and substance of the poetical 
 doctrine is that the less you can tell why you love, and 
 the more you can glory in your ignorance, the better. 
 Turn to index of authors, under L. John Lilly : " Af 
 fection is a fire, which kindleth as well in the bramble 
 as in the oak ; and catcheth hold where it first lighteth, 
 not where it may best burn.' Under M., Milton, 
 thusly :
 
 OLIPHANT, OCTAVIA, AND JOSEPHINE. 185 
 
 " 'It is not virtue, Avisdom, valor, wit, 
 
 Strength, comeliness of shape, or amplest merit, 
 That woman's love can win or long inherit.' 
 
 And, not to bore you, so it goes on ; but they all agree 
 that there's something very fine about love. It's a 
 sort of superstition like religion." 
 
 Oliphant became grave. "I've been a man of the 
 world, Quisbrough," said he, "but I hold on to my 
 religion, and it isn't superstitious ; so I can't quite 
 accept your remark. Love, like religion, appears to 
 me to be a result of faith. Our belief in the good and 
 noble traits of humanity is apt to be disappointed in 
 most cases, and by the flaws and meannesses we dis 
 cover in ourselves, too. But when a man falls in love, 
 he concentrates his general belief in the fine qualities 
 of mankind on one person ; he has faith that she is 
 mainly composed of those qualities ; and that faith 
 as we see often enough will carry him through life 
 cheerfully, in face of the most glaring contradictions. 
 Even when he detects the woman's faults, he is fond 
 of them, almost proud of them, because well, simply 
 because he loves her." 
 
 "Ah, you see," Quisbrough retorted, "you come 
 back, as I do, to the ' because,' which doesn't explain 
 anything. And as to your faith there's so much 
 selfishness, after all, in love ! It's a mutual agree 
 ment to be kind and generous, and to believe, on the 
 distinct ground that a full equivalent shall be given in 
 return. You know how easily love turns to hate ; well, 
 that proves it to be selfish. But this is just the quality 
 that makes it so delightful lo people : the passion is
 
 186 NEWPORT. 
 
 merely selfishness in an etherealized form, which in 
 toxicates the partaker, inverts his ideas, and makes 
 him think or her think that this emotion which is 
 dilating the bosom, and so on, is a magnanimous self- 
 surrender." 
 
 " But aren't there instances of persons who love long 
 after they have ceased to receive any return?" 
 
 "Yes; you're right; but they're rare, I imagine. 
 Any way, that belongs to the higher branches : Perry 
 will need a post-graduate course to get so far." 
 
 At this moment Mr. Farley Blazer appeared on the 
 balcony. He liked to worry himself by coming down 
 to Newport sometimes and living in a separate apart 
 ment, whence he could watch his wife following her 
 path of glory by means of his wealth. On this occa 
 sion he was very much under the influence of liquor, 
 and was humming a song, 
 
 " The last poor rat, 
 Without a cravat; 
 He had no coat, 
 And a hole in that," 
 
 which perhaps symbolized to him his own mental con 
 dition. He invited the two talkers to drink, but they 
 declined ; and, after a few companionable remarks of 
 a luridly humorous nature, he withdrew his wild beard 
 and dull eyes from their sight. 
 
 "There's an example, now," Quiz resumed. " That 
 man still loves his wife, though she doesn't care a rap 
 for him ; and he's paying her the costly tribute of 
 drinking himself to death, because there isn't any other 
 way to show hi 8 regard."
 
 OLIPHANT, OCTAVIA, AND JOSEPHINE. 187 
 
 Olipliant had a sudden thought of Roger Deeriug ; 
 for ugly rumors about Mary and Atlce had been flying 
 rather thick of late. And then, passing from these 
 t\vo instances of damaged conjugal affection, his mind 
 reverted to the milk-and-water of Hawkstane's kind 
 ness, which was now rapidly turning its current towards 
 Tilly Blazer. How could that feeble sentiment be 
 classed with Craig's devouring passion for Vivian? 
 And then, again, could the name of love be applied 
 to the instinctive calculations of the various smiling, 
 talkative little rosebuds and the statelier belles of 
 society, who were able to gauge their heart-throbs by 
 a bunk account and prospects of "position;" or to 
 the moth-flights of Dana Swectser? 
 
 "There are about as many degrees in these mat 
 ters," he said, " as there are individuals. According 
 to your notion, though, I suppose the giving of devo 
 tion with absolutely nothing in exchange would be the 
 perfect phase of love." 
 
 "I should call it the highest," was Quisbrough's 
 reply. "What is heroism but a generalized, intense 
 love of others, who, perhaps, don't know that we exist? 
 Men lay down their lives for total strangers whom they 
 see in peril." 
 
 "But that's a case of honor, or duty, or enthusi 
 asm. There's no passion in it ; is there? " 
 
 " It strikes me there's passion of the finest kind in 
 such deeds," Quisbrough declared. " If they're not 
 prompted by a sublimated, unselfish power of love, I 
 can see no motive in them at all." 
 
 " I never looked at it in that way," Oliphaiit said,
 
 188 NEWPORT. 
 
 yieldingly. " But I shouldn't wonder if you had hit 
 the truth. Of course love must be an idea, as well as 
 a passion ; and probably most of us don't come within 
 a thousand miles of comprehending the whole idea. ' ' 
 
 No doubt he meant what he said ; but, as he walked 
 awa}* from the club, he told himself that a man like 
 Quisbrough could not really know any thing about it. 
 His own love for Octavia, he was firmly convinced, 
 rose to the highest mark : he knew that he would do 
 any thing for her ; he would sacrifice himself for her, 
 if need were ; and, should she be unwilling to share 
 her life with him, he was still capable of making his 
 own minister to hers wherever an opportunity offered 
 That night he walked out towards her house. In the 
 high slope of the roof one window was still glowing, 
 which he tried to suppose was hers, at the same time 
 that he argued against its being so. He wandered up 
 and down the neighboring roads in the rich, soft silence, 
 feeling the moist sea-breeze on his face, and gazing 
 now and then at a bank of white, inchoate cloud-shapes 
 that throbbed with a dim uncertainty of silver light 
 above the tardy moon. Remote, intangible and fair as 
 those, were the hopes that shone down into his mid 
 night revery ; but he resolved soon to attempt to real 
 ize them. 
 
 He was to see Octavia the next day ; for they had 
 made an appointment with Craig, who wanted them to 
 hear him practise on the organ in the old church. 
 Oliphant called for her at the hour agreed upon, and 
 they drove to Trinity together. She was rather pale 
 that morning ; the reason of which w;io that she had in
 
 OLIPIIANT, OCTAVIA, AND JOSEPHINE. 189 
 
 * fact been sitting up when Oliphant made his nocturnal 
 reconnaissance, and had been thinking a good deal 
 about him. He was sensible of a new reserve in her 
 manner, which, instead of warning him away, drew 
 him he could not tell how nearer, and thrilled him 
 with a vague exultation. On the way she talked of 
 nothing but Craig and Vivian, who were still at odds ; 
 and it seemed that Vivian had been doing all sorts of 
 vexatious things to increase Justin's discouragement : 
 she was flirting desperately, and defying the conven 
 tionalities more than ever. She had even committed 
 the indiscretion of sharing in a game of polo played 
 entirely by ladies, which had been conducted with great 
 secrecy, but had nevertheless come to everybody's 
 knowledge and been commented on severely. 
 
 "I have decided," said Oliphaut, "to send Justin 
 to Germany, and he will go before the season's out. 
 We must get up a reconciliation by that time." 
 
 "Oh, yes; and sooner," Octavia rejoined. "I 
 haven't yet told you how anxious Dana Sweetser is to 
 have Justin give a concert for the Drainage Association. 
 We'll persuade Vivian to get his consent. Won't that 
 be nice? And do you know what else I've done? I'm 
 afraid it shows dreadful duplicity in me, but I couldn't 
 help it : I I told her we were all going to be at the 
 church to-day ! " 
 
 Octavia looked at him (they were in the carriage) 
 with mingled mischief and contrition, and the effect of 
 her glance was greatly heightened by the bonnet she 
 wore, which was made entirely of pansies, and crowned 
 her with a simple grace worthy of some mythical wood-
 
 190 NEWPORT. 
 
 Dympb. "Were I to tell what Oliphant thought of this 
 piece of head-gear, and how he worshipped it, I should 
 make him appear ridiculous to every one excepting 
 such ladies as may have had a bouuct just like it ; but 
 the alluring light in her eyes, the trustful reliance that 
 he would respond to her mood, and her sunshiny live 
 liness faintly shadowed always by that reserve I 
 have mentioned were of far more importance to him. 
 AVI uit could all these mean, unless that she resented 
 nothing of what he had said at the Pirate's Cave, and 
 that she might be induced to listen to him again? 
 And so, blithely and sympathetically, they entered the 
 empty church, took places in one of the pews where 
 they could see Justin as well as hear his playing, and 
 had great enjoyment of the music together. It was 
 delightful to know that one identical strain of harmony 
 was sweeping through them both at the same time ; 
 and they exchanged many swift looks of approval and 
 pleasure at particular passages. And then, as they 
 were preparing to go away, Octavia, fancying that she 
 heard a light step in the vestibule below, hurried to a 
 window in the gallery. Justin was putting in the 
 organ-stops ; she beckoned Oliphant to come to her 
 side ; and, standing there, he saw Vivian in the path 
 leading out of the old grave-yard. She had of course 
 been listening, unseen, to the music. She happened 
 to turn at the moment, glanced up, and saw them ; and 
 they hastily drew back, though not before Octavia had 
 shaken her finger jestingly at her friend. 
 
 " You see, I knew what would be the effect of tell 
 ing her," she whispered to Oliphant. " Shall we let 
 Justin know?"
 
 OLIPHANT, OCTAVIA, AND JOSEPHINE. 191 
 
 " Not yet. I will, afterward," he said. 
 
 "Very well: that shall be your part." Octavia 
 was as full of repressed glee over the little secret as a 
 child. She laid her shut fan against her lips and then 
 touched it to his shoulder, in her haste to caution him 
 that they should say no more, because Justin was 
 about coming towards them. This, to be sure, was a 
 trifle ; but it would be singular if she did not perceive 
 what influence such trifles must have upon Oliphant. 
 At any rate, the effect was clear to others when Octa 
 via invited Oliphant, Vivian, and Craig to dinner one 
 evening. The younger couple made some approach to 
 composing their quarrel, and did not stay very late ; 
 but Oliphant irresolutely hung back from going, and 
 finally remained longer. He did not dare as yet to 
 come to the climax of a full avowal, but they dropped 
 into reflections more or less personal, which led very 
 close to it. 
 
 When she was once more alone, Octavia began to 
 wonder what was going to be the result of such trifles, 
 upon her. She still felt an unreasoning resentment 
 against Oliphaut, yet her moments of relenting were 
 becoming more frequent. Just now, as she sat by 
 her window, trying to read, a microscopic insect a 
 winged life no bigger than a pin-head fluttered in, 
 and began executing the craziest spirals around her 
 lamp, always dropping upon the page, on what served 
 it as a back ; whereat it went instantly into a frantic 
 spasm, closing with a general wriggle of legs and 
 wings that brought it upright again. There was some 
 thing so irrational about this tiny creature that it ac-
 
 192 NEWPORT. 
 
 quired a likeness to humanity, which amused Octavia. 
 She stopped reading, to watch it ; but her thoughts re 
 turned to Oliphant. " Why should I care what he 
 feels? " she mused. " He asked if I forgave him, and 
 I said, ' You couldn't have done differently.' Well, I 
 suppose he couldn't : another man might have. If he 
 is punished, will it be my fault?" At length, noti 
 cing the insect again, she brushed it away carelessly, 
 and ended its existence. 
 
 Whether it were the insect or Oliphant that op 
 pressed her conscience, she slept ill that night, and 
 woke with an unappeased questioning at her heart, 
 still. There is, in one sense, no untruth : what seems 
 so is merely the shadow from some cloud of personal 
 temperament, floating between our deeper selves and 
 the sun of truth. The shadows could not be without 
 the light ; but light does not depend for its existence 
 on shadow. This nullity of untruth is what makes it 
 difficult for us, when groping through the gradations 
 of shadow in our own minds, to know just the degree 
 of error that obscures our sight. And so Octavia was 
 unable to make out whether she was quite veracious or 
 not. 
 
 The general talk, however, of those who kept the 
 run of such matters was that the affair had arrived at 
 a point where an engagement must soon follow. Mrs. 
 Farley Blazer let it be known that she was delighted 
 with the romantic conjunction. Mrs. Richards said to 
 Mary Deering that the wedding ought to come off dur 
 ing the Newport season ; and that, as Octavia was a 
 widow, she would probably have to be "married in a
 
 OLIPHANT, OCTAVIA, AND JOSEPUINE. 193 
 
 bonnet" (and, incidentally, hi a church). Mrs. Deer- 
 ing, in reply, observed that there was the best sort of 
 promise for happiness in the match: "Because, you 
 know, Mrs. GitTord had such a devoted husband; and 
 when widows have had one good husband they are 
 generally kinder the second time to make up for 
 past faults and get even with their consciences. Eu- 
 geiie will appreciate this in Octavia, because he didn't 
 have much happiness from 7is marriage." 
 
 Views of this sort having been circulated, Josephine 
 came to Octavia and asked her, ' ' Do you know what 
 every bod} 7 is saying? " 
 
 " ' I decline to be interviewed,' " said Octavia, part 
 ing her lips in a perverse little laugh. 
 
 " Seriously, my dear," insisted her friend, " you 
 ought to think about it you ought to think what you 
 are doing." 
 
 "Well; and perhaps I have thought," Octavia 
 retorted. 
 
 " Oh, you are in earnest, then? " 
 
 "Did I say I was?" 
 
 "No," answered Josephine. "But surely" 
 She finished by a fixed gaze of melancholy intentness, 
 which made Octavia nervous. I may add that this 
 quietude verging on sadness, characteristic of Jose 
 phine, had been growing upon her of late. Even Oli- 
 phant had made observation of it in the fleeting 
 glimpses he had had. of her when she came over to a 
 ball, or a strolling play at the Casino Theatre ; and it 
 had resulted that she rose upon his reveries, now and 
 then, mildly radiant and serious like the evening star.
 
 194 NEWPORT. 
 
 "I'll tell you how it seems to me," she slowly recom 
 menced, to Octavia. "Of course I didn't need other 
 people to show me that you have been drawing him 
 on : I've seen that for some time. But I don't think 
 you mean to marry him." 
 
 ' ' What right have you to say that ? ' ' exclaimed 
 Octavia, growing fiery. 
 
 " Why, it would be inconsistent with all your princi 
 ples every thing you've ever said to me about mar 
 rying again." This was Josephine's response, and 
 she too gave signs of a rising temperature. 
 
 "Ah, Josephine," Octavia was swift in retorting, 
 " how can you let yourself criticise me so? Suppose 
 I had reconsidered my principle? " 
 
 Josephine did not glide into easy acquiescence. 
 "This is too bad," she said forlornly. " I can't be 
 lieve you've changed your mind. And yet, and yet 
 oh, is it true, Octavia? You're deceiving that man ! " 
 
 " I deceiving? " echoed the other woman. " What 
 do we all do, at times? If I was sure I was very fond 
 of him, and kept back the truth, that wouldn't be 
 deceit, I suppose. And if I dislike him for any rea 
 son, and yet treat him well, that isn't any more de 
 ceitful. But did you ever hear what De Musset makes 
 a character say in one of his plays ? ' Are you sure 
 that every thing in a woman lies, when her tongue 
 does ? ' Why should I tell you this : can't you guess 
 how hard it is to know one's own mind ? " 
 
 "Yes, I understand it well!" cried Josephine, 
 starting up. The evening star had lost her pensive 
 repose : her face was tumultuous, now, with feeling,
 
 OLIPHANT, OCTAV1A, AND JOSEPHINE. 195 
 
 which she tried hard to suppress. "But you have 
 gone too far to be uncertain. It is not right : I cannot 
 stand by and see this, much as I have loyed you, Octa- 
 via. Mr. Oliphant doesn't deserve to be jilted. I 
 came to you, hoping to persuade you ; but, if that 
 won't do. I shall look for some other way to save him. 
 He must be told what you're preparing for him ! " 
 
 Octavia's face lighted with a singular sort of tri 
 umph. "Then you love him!" she said, signifi 
 cantly. " Poor child, you have been so hasty that you 
 have betrayed yourself!" Josephine turned away, 
 blushing. " Have you told Perry Thorburn so? If 
 you arc going to warn Mr. Oliphant of any thing, how 
 will it do for me to warn Perry? " 
 
 There was an instant of struggle, of effort on the 
 part of Josephine to assume a silent pride ; but the 
 attempt failed, and she clutched at Octavia's hand 
 with her own, which missed its grasp and fastened 
 only upon a fold of the widow's dress. "Oh, you 
 don't know," she said, in a detached, uncertain way. 
 "You musn't think that about me. And I won't 
 think any thing about you, except that I hope you'll 
 be good to him. And don't don't speak to Perry ! "
 
 xn. 
 
 IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF FATE. 
 
 riTlHE discovery of Josephine's hidden predilection 
 for Oliphant brought upon Octavia a rush of new 
 excitement which she could not fathom or control. 
 That fine sheathing of comparative indifference, which 
 had enabled her to go on thus far without sacrificing 
 her peace of mind, suddenly vanished, and she ceased 
 to be merely a spectator of her relations with Oliphant. 
 Like an actress carried away by her part, she became 
 subject to the situation ; no longer felt that she was 
 moulding it, but rather that she was at the mercy of 
 events. 
 
 She was willing to confess, now, that during the 
 busy weeks of their acquaintance a strong admiration 
 for Oliphant had grown up in her mind. She had not 
 suspected that a character so little salient, a presence 
 so quiet, could acquire such sway over her ; yet it had 
 come to pass that if she missed seeing him for a sin 
 gle day she was conscious of a void and blankness in 
 the day's experience. There was a silent persuasive 
 power about him, a something calmly strong, which 
 had caused a belief to gain upon her that his worth 
 was sound and complete beyond that of men who might 
 196
 
 IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF FATE. J97 
 
 be more brilliant, or of more flexible mind. And now 
 her belief and her admiration were confirmed by the 
 deep impression he had made upon Josephine. Who 
 would ever have dreamed that the self-possessed, 
 ambitious girl could fall in love with him? For a 
 moment, indeed, Octavia allowed herself to doubt that 
 it could be so. "At any rate," she thought, " if she 
 does love him, what does it amount to? Nothing but 
 an icicle giving back a ray of the sun. She's too cold. 
 She can't love him as as / could." But those un 
 spoken words brought blushes to her cheeks, and fright 
 ened her. Was it already possible for her to come to 
 such a climax, even in fancy? 
 
 Moreover, had she not decided that love was an illu 
 sion, a tradition, a thing no one could be sure of? If 
 this was her conviction, surely she could not pretend 
 to any thing more than a friendly sentiment towards 
 Oliphant ; yet it irked her to suppose that she could 
 be inferior to Josephine in the capacity for an honest 
 and trusting affection. Besides, it was beyond all dis 
 pute that Oliphant cared for her, and not for Jose 
 phine. The knowledge gratified her ; but at the next 
 instant she was thrilled by a notion of renouncing him 
 for herself, and making him marry Josephine. It was 
 delightful to think how noble such a proceeding would 
 be. Before she had time, however, to sketch it out in 
 all its bearings, she had abandoned the scheme, and 
 dropped helplessly back into the vortex of uncertainty 
 from which circumstances would not permit her to 
 escape. 
 
 Retreat might be another alternative ; but what would
 
 198 NEWPORT. 
 
 become of her purpose, then? Had she not made an 
 inward vow? Was there not a duty for her to per 
 form, a revenge to take? Anger and pity and a gath 
 ering tenderness swept by turns through her heart, 
 confusing her more and more ; but one thing, she saw, 
 was decided : there could be no retreat. In the rest 
 lessness engendered by this conflict, she had gone out 
 upon the grounds of High Lawn, after Josephine's 
 visit, and was walking aimlessly among the trees, when 
 she saw a man's figure passing up the driveway to the 
 house. She could not tell who it was, but her heart 
 throbbed quickly ; she at once thought of Eugene. 
 Returning b}' a door near the silk-panelled room, she 
 was disappointed to find that it was Raish Porter 
 who awaited her. But he brought an invitation that 
 promptly enlivened the coloring of her mood ; for he 
 had devised a yachting party, to come off the next 
 day, in which the Wares, Count Fitz-Stuart, Josephine, 
 Oliphant, and several others would be included. Mrs. 
 Farley Blazer was not invited, and Octavia consented 
 with eager readiness to go. 
 
 " It's unusual to get people out on that sort of trip, 
 here," said Raish, " and I'm as elated at my success 
 as the sailor I've heard of, who fiddled so well that the 
 whales all came round him to be harpooned." 
 
 Raish's jovial deportment had nothing to do with 
 the placidity that returned to Octavia. It was the 
 prospect of the excursion that brought back her good 
 spirits. Her perplexities were not solved, but they 
 had disappeared : the knowledge that she was to have 
 Oliphant by her side, on the yacht, furnished a thread
 
 IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF FATE. 199 
 
 which she was content to take for her clew through the 
 maze, at present. 
 
 It was a cool morning when Raish's small schooner- 
 yacht, the Amaranth, glided out of the harbor, leaving 
 behind the fossil part of Newport, with its tape-meas 
 ure sidewalks and huddled gambrel- roofs, and quaint, 
 cramped old Thames Street. The sky was half-clouded, 
 like a face softened by pensive memories ; but the gay- 
 ety of the sailing-party was not abated, and their light 
 talk and laughter around the deck played sympatheti 
 cally into the murmur of the rippling tide. Smoothly 
 the trim craft ran past Fort Adams and the bare hills 
 arrayed in dull green, or, where the sun shone, in a 
 warm, smiling brown that held a hint of rose ; past 
 the Point of Trees and Ramshead, too, with Conani- 
 cut on the right, all blended of mild grays and varying 
 greens, except for its border of rough rock harsh with 
 shadow. Then, as they made out into the open ocean, 
 they saw a white strip of marguerites, like a broad 
 chalk-streak, amid the green on the right, and far away 
 a line of blue and purple heights. Under the chan 
 ging heaven Beaver Tail Light, with its blanched tower 
 on the long, low point, was brought out in white- 
 spotted clearness by wandering sunbeams, and swiftly 
 reduced to moist dimness again, as if it had been a 
 lantern-picture abruptly dissolving. 
 
 " Look there ! " said Raish, pointing to the cliff, as 
 
 the Amaranth buffeted her way gayly across the 
 
 ..stronger waves that met them after they had passed 
 
 Gooseberry Island and Spounting Rock. " Look at 
 
 that row of summer palaces ! Where can you show me
 
 200 NEWPORT. 
 
 any thing to equal it? Think of all that growing out 
 of the quiet little town behind it, dressed in Quaker 
 gray and white." 
 
 " The wicked worldling," said Octavia, with a smile, 
 " coming after the stem and pious parent." 
 
 "It's a great contrast," Oliphant assented. "I 
 should like to know what is to be the result of the new 
 development." 
 
 "I'll tell you," said Raish, addressing several of 
 the group. " We have three epochs represented here : 
 first, the early settlers, by the old stone mill ; then the 
 defunct American democracy, who built the older part 
 of the town ; and these villas here, standing for the 
 present American oligarchy. After that will come 
 revolution." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders, and looked quite French ; 
 that is, like a cynic suddenly disordered by a gust of 
 prophecy. 
 
 ''Mais non. How can you think possible ?" Fitz- 
 Stuart exclaimed, a diminutive consternation agitating 
 his features. 
 
 "But, Mr. Porter," objected Vivian, "revolution 
 belongs to the effete monarchies, you know. Surely, 
 you don't think we can descend to borrowing any thing 
 of the kind from them." 
 
 " Why not? " Raish answered. " We imitate them 
 in every thing else, as far as possible ; and we'll have 
 to end by imitating them in that, too." 
 
 Josephine laughed. " /shall be safe, at any rate," 
 said she. " When the time comes, and you are all 
 blown up over here at Newport, I shall be quietly eat-
 
 IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF FATE. 201 
 
 ing bread and milk in Jamestown. That's the advan 
 tage of being pastoral and innocent." 
 
 As the rest broke into a general buzz of conversa 
 tion, Oliphant said to her, " I shouldn't think James 
 town would be likely to satisfy you." 
 
 "To tell you the truth," she replied frankly, in a 
 lower voice, "it doesn't. I'd rather be in Newport 
 and be destroyed with the rest, if it came to that." 
 
 " Oh, Eaish is talking nonsense," he said. 
 
 " I'm not so sure," Josephine answered, slowly. 
 " We're often told that society is in an unhealthy state, 
 and I almost believe it is." 
 
 " Then why are you so fond of it? " 
 
 "Well, it's like taking arsenic, you know. If you 
 once begin, even in small doses, you get to depending 
 on it. But what's your taste, Mr. Oliphant? Don't 
 you like arsenic?" 
 
 " I'm afraid I do," he said, unconsciously stealing 
 a glance at Octavia. "I've begun to, latel} r . But 
 there was a time when I used to dream of an idyllic 
 sort of life in some sleepy little place not too far out 
 of the world." 
 
 " Like Jamestown ? " 
 
 "Possibly." 
 
 A gentle dreaminess suffused her face. " It might 
 be a very happy life," she said, "under certain con 
 ditions." And as her eyes met his, he thought he saw 
 burning deep within them a peculiarly tremulous flame. 
 
 " AY r hy isn't Perry Thorburn here to-day? " he asked, 
 glancing around as if the young man might have been 
 hidden in the cabin and were about to emerge.
 
 202 NEWPORT. 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know," said Josephine. " Does 
 his absence trouble you?" 
 
 He saw that she was annoyed by his question, which 
 was a too significant one. Accordingly he began to 
 praise the absent Perry, telling her that he had grown 
 to like him very much. " Still," he added, smiling in 
 a gallant manner, "I can get along perfectly without 
 him, at present." 
 
 This speech was not a success, either. It was a 
 refinement of pain to poor Josephine, who knew how 
 superficial the complimentary tone must be, since his 
 heart was really with Octavia. But she concealed its 
 effect upon her, and kept him engaged in talk, drawing 
 him always a little deeper, and always with that 
 strange trembling light in her eyes. Oliphant felt the 
 fascination, and even felt that he might begin to suc 
 cumb to it before long. Meanwhile Octavia was left 
 mainly to the attentions of Stillman Ware, who re 
 marked with great satisfaction that Fitz-Stuart was 
 progressing admirably with Vivian : they had gone 
 away by themselves towards the forward part of the 
 yacht, under the shadow of the foresail, and were ap 
 parently engrossed with each other. Oliphant several 
 times resolved to move away from Josephine, but he 
 still remained by her. She knew the power of the spell 
 she could exercise, and had recklessly resolved to use 
 it. Was it not her right, by nature? Moreover, if 
 Octavia was bent upon trifling with this man, any means 
 were justifiable for saving him, even to winning him 
 away from her. And Oliphant, though he did not 
 know her motive, became conscious that she exhibited
 
 IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF FATE. 203 
 
 a singular interest in him. Shall we admit that the 
 discovery excited his vanity? Or shall we say that he 
 enjoyed it because it was extraneous evidence, giving 
 him a sense of his value, which made it seem less auda 
 cious for him to hope that he could gain Octavia's 
 love ? 
 
 Octavia watched them, at first with scorn for what 
 she considered Josephine's unfairness, and then with 
 a rankling envy of her friend's easy power : finally, the 
 desire to bring Oliphaut to her feet whether for 
 mere triumph, or for the securing of a genuine happi 
 ness, she scarcely knew began to rise to the point of 
 fever. 
 
 The situation was broken by an announcement of 
 lunch in the cabin, made by liaish's negro steward, 
 Fortune. 
 
 "Isn't he a perfect specimen?" Porter asked his 
 guests, as they assembled to go in. " You noticed the 
 wonderful curl of his hair, I suppose. Why, it's so 
 woolly that positively he has to put camphor in it, early 
 in the summer, to keep the moths out ! " 
 
 Porter, as usual when at table, was in the best of 
 spirits, and soon allayed the conflict and agitation that 
 were threatened in the minds of Octavia, Oliphaut, and 
 Josephine. Several dainty and elaborate courses were 
 served, but the choicest dish of all consisted of broilec 1 
 green plover served on plates which had been washed 
 in champagne. " It's the only way to get the finest 
 flavor," Raish declared; " and the only thing I know 
 of that comes an3 T where near plover served like this is 
 the ' larks stewed in morning's roseate breath, or
 
 204 NEWPORT. 
 
 roasted by a sunbeam's splendor,' which Tom Moore 
 once offered to the Marquis of Lansdowne." 
 
 He was so gay that one would have thought he 
 hadn't a care in the world ; but as a matter of fact he 
 had not at all enjoyed Josephine's proceedings toward 
 Oliphant, since it was for his own interest that Perry's 
 attachment for her should come to a prosperous issue. 
 He was disappointed, too, at Perry's failure to join the 
 party, and still more disturbed by the knowledge that 
 that young speculator had not yet actually taken or 
 paid for the Orbicular stock which he proposed to buy. 
 But, as I say, he kept his company in capital humor. 
 They suspected nothing ; and if he had never been go 
 ing to give another entertainment if he and they had 
 all been destiued to fade array into the mists and be 
 seen no more, with the Amaranth turning to a phan 
 tom yacht under their feet he could not have made a 
 happier ending. 
 
 But they had no intention of fading. "When they 
 came out, with smiling lips and with the delicate tingle 
 of wine in their veins, the mists had disappeared, and 
 they turned to make the run homeward in a soft glow 
 of sunshine. As they approached within a certain 
 distance of the shore, a strange phenomenon saluted 
 them. All at once the saltncss of the air seemed to 
 cease ; the wind came from off the land, and poured 
 around them in a breath of honey the mingled scent 
 of flowers by thousands in the rich villa-gardens of 
 Newport, and in the fields far away. It was an intoxi 
 cating aroma ; it was like the exhalation from some 
 enchanted territory of delights. In a miuute or so,
 
 IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF FATE. 205 
 
 with a veering of the wind, it had passed ; but Oli- 
 phant, hanging over Octavia, murmured, "This is a 
 good omen for our return to land, isn't it? " 
 
 "Yes; a much more hopeful one than the chilly 
 mist we sailed out with." 
 
 And there was a new significance in her gaze, as she 
 spoke with lifted face, a significance that referred 
 to his lingering near Josephine so long before lunch, and 
 to the slight shadow of jealousy which she allowed to 
 rest upon her own mind, and was willing that he should 
 perceive. 
 
 He sat down beside hea, his face radiant with some 
 thing more than the sunshine, and remained there 
 until they came into port. He had made another 
 advance ; the}" had entered a new phase in their friend 
 ship ; and to him the understanding established be 
 tween them was the next thing to a mutual confession. 
 Still, when he landed, he felt that he had left behind 
 him, on that little voyage, the last vestige of the inde 
 pendence which had been his at the beginning of the 
 season ; and this independence, albeit one of loneli 
 ness and sorrow, was something the loss of which 
 might have to be regretted. He was drifting, now ; 
 he was at her mercy he knew ; yet the fact was sweet 
 to him, and he rejoiced in it. One must " give all for 
 love ; " but the price was not too great. 
 
 He longed to put his fate to the test ; but somehow 
 there was difficulty in finding room for any action so 
 momentous in the crowded round of social occupa 
 tions. The very next day was to culminate in that 
 brilliant musical drainage entertainment, the well-
 
 206 NEWPORT. 
 
 vouched-for benefit concert in aid of Dana Swcetser's 
 movement, at which Justin was to make his public 
 debut; and during most of the interval Oliphant was 
 busy in assisting about the final arrangements. 
 
 With the social support which had been pledged to it, 
 the concert could not have missed being the success 
 it was. Mrs. Farley Blazer would have doue all the 
 injury she could to the enterprise, because of Justin's 
 participation, except for the restraint put upon her by 
 friendly regard for Dana. This prevented her active 
 hostility, and she compromised by sending Tilly and 
 Lord Hawkstane, in charge of some friends, while she 
 herself staid at home. Mrs. Chauncey Ware, how 
 ever, threw her patronage unreservedly into the scales 
 on Dana's side ; and the sibylline scrolls of gray hair 
 that identified as hers a certain black bonnet, from 
 under which they projected, were seen in one row of 
 chairs with Stillman and Vivian and Count Fitz-Stuart. 
 The mother and brother were thus gracious in respect 
 of Justin because they believed the coolness that obvi 
 ously had interposed between him and Vivian was to 
 be permanent ; and in the fulness of their gratitude 
 to Providence for the sacred gift of this lovers' quar 
 rel, they were able to spare a little generosity for the 
 young musician. 
 
 I am not going to describe the concert, but from the 
 interest which Vivian Ware took in the music it must 
 have been passably good. Several times she bent her 
 head and wrote comments on the programme, with the 
 small gold pencil which the count lent her for the pur 
 pose, and then folded up the paper, as if the brief
 
 IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF FATE. 207 
 
 record of her pleasure were too precious to be exposed 
 to the outer air. The count betrayed a lover-like curi 
 osity to see what she had written , but with correspond 
 ing coquetry she kept putting him off, and he did not 
 get a sight of it, the whole evening. 
 
 After the performance, Justin appeared for two or 
 three minutes in the eddying drift of copious silks, 
 light shoulder-wraps, and black coats, moving towards 
 the exit. Octavia in her pansy bonnet and Oliphant 
 in evening dress were there to welcome him with hearty 
 praise ; many by-standers regarded him with manifest 
 admiration ; and as he drew near Vivian, she was so 
 eager to thank him for his playing, that she dropped 
 her programme in turning to meet him. He caught it 
 before it had reached the floor, and offered to 1 return 
 it to her. 
 
 "Never mind," she said. "It has some notes of 
 my impressions. Keep it, and tell me by and by if I 
 am right." 
 
 Justin bowed, and almost instantly glided away. 
 The count at first looked mortified that the programme 
 should have escaped him ; but the expression was fol 
 lowed by one of serenity, as of a man who could 
 afford so trifling a loss, in view of what he retained ; 
 and so he went out with Vivian to join Stillman, who 
 was busy finding the carriage.
 
 xm. 
 
 HAWKS AND DOVES. 
 
 episode of the programme, however, had not 
 J- escaped the notice of one or two ladies who were 
 standing near. 
 
 They belonged to a small coterie which was in the 
 habit of meeting every day or two at the houses of the 
 several acquaintances who composed it. The mem 
 bers of this circle gathered together for self-improve 
 ment ; that is, they devoted an hour to trimming and 
 polishing their finger-nails, by means of the latest 
 and most improved apparatus. This species of culture 
 induced in them a liberality which extended to the 
 improvement of other people, so far as that could be 
 done by defining and thoroughly discussing their de 
 merits, in order that if those persons should improve 
 every one would know exactly how much they had 
 done so. 
 
 Pious Mrs. Ballard Mole was one of this group. It 
 had been proposed by somebody to hold concerts at 
 the Casino on Sunday evenings, and this was enough 
 to deter Mrs. Ballard Mole from going to any musical 
 affair in that place, however worthy the object. None 
 the less, though, was she willing to listen to reports 
 208
 
 HAWKS AND DOVES. 209 
 
 of what had occurred at the Sweetser entertainment ; 
 and when Miss De Peyster (Roland's ugly sister) 
 began to say something about the strangeness of Viv 
 ian's remark to Craig, Mrs. Mole experienced a chilly 
 joy in thinking that if any germ of scandal had effected 
 a lodgment in that distinguished audience, it was only 
 a righteous judgment on the projectors of chimerical 
 Sunday concerts that had not come to pass. 
 
 " There seems to be something between those two, 
 some understanding that isn't quite right, under the 
 circumstances," said Miss De Peyster, opening her 
 case of nail instruments, and inspecting them as if she 
 had been a surgeon about to begin vivisection. 
 
 She was seated on the broad veranda, shaded by 
 vines and canvas curtains, of Mrs. Mole's scriptural 
 villa, called Petra, on the Cliff, where the conclave had 
 beeu called for that morning. 
 
 " Then, do you consider Vivian engaged to the 
 count?" asked Mary Deering, who was one of the 
 worldly representatives in this little circle. 
 
 " Well, if she isn't, it's about time she should be,'* 
 Miss De Peyster answered, clicking her scissors sharply. 
 
 " Oh, do you know what I heard yesterday? " This 
 question proceeded from a lady who wore a jaunty ruby- 
 tinted turban, and enjoyed great intimacy with Mrs. 
 Farley Blazer. 
 
 " IS'o ; what?" " Any thing about the count?" 
 Uttering responses of this sort, everybody became 
 attentive, and there was a momentary pause in the 
 wielding of their small steel weapons. 
 
 "Yes; the count. Dana Sweetser says he was
 
 210 NEWPORT. 
 
 walking, the other morning, over where the Cliff begins, 
 you know, that bare spot where it's so quiet, and 
 he noticed three Frenchmen sitting on the grass, with 
 a basket of breakfast and some claret ; and they were 
 talking quite loud and laughing, don't you know, so 
 they didn't notice him. And he made out that they 
 were creditors of the count's. They're lying in wait 
 for him, in a sort of way ; at any rate, watching him. 
 Mr. Sweetser says he believes they even have a detec 
 tive keeping his eye on Hartman's, where the count 
 stays, you know. Isn't it odd, a man who might 
 have been King of England, may be, having creditors 
 after him? " 
 
 The rest agreed that it was very odd, and that the 
 count's speedy engagement to Vivian, with a claim 
 on the Ware property, ought to be wished for by every 
 one who understood the pathos of the situation. 
 
 " Besides," Mrs. Mole declared, " he's a much more 
 desirable person than that penniless pianist." 
 
 " But Mr. Craig plaj T s the organ in church," Mary 
 Deering suggested, with a spice of malice, and spoiled 
 the effect of her shot by sending off another: "The 
 count is penniless, too, it appears." 
 
 "Temporarily, my dear," Mrs. Ballard Mole re 
 torted, assuming a mien of devout loyalty. "Tem 
 porarily penniless ; that is all. It can't last." 
 
 " The creditors evidently think it can't, or sha'n't," 
 whispered Mary to Mrs. Richards, who was present. 
 
 Then they all began talking about other things and 
 people. There were rumors of an approaching divorce, 
 to be assorted ; and the ladies next devoted themselves
 
 HAWKS AND DOVES. 211 
 
 sadly to comment on various unfortunate traits in their 
 associates, which ought to be corrected, as well as to 
 the ins and outs of sundry quarrels that had begun to 
 shatter the harmony of Newport society. Gradually 
 an approach was made to the subject of Mrs. Blazer's 
 confidential relations with Porter ; though, in deference 
 to Mrs. Blazer's friend, who was there, the approach 
 was characterized by Christian tenderness. 
 
 " It's really a pity, you know," said Miss De Peyster 
 to the friend, " when her husband is about, and they're 
 not living together, /don't believe there's anything 
 in it, }-ou know ; but so many will take that view." 
 
 Mrs. Richards burst into uncontrollable laughter. 
 " Oh, the funniest thing yet !" she ejaculated, while 
 the jewels on her generous bosom shook with sym 
 pathetic humor. " Sarah Loyall made a mistake yes 
 terday, and called Mr. Porter ' Mr. Blazer,' in Mrs. 
 Blazer's presence. But she was equal to the occasion : 
 she said, ' Oh, Mrs. Loyall, don't make him out to be 
 any thing so disagreeable as a husband ! ' Wasn't 
 that rich?" 
 
 There was great amusement on the veranda, at this ; 
 even the ruby-turbaned friend of Mrs. Blazer joining 
 in the merriment. 
 
 Snip, snip, went the scissors, as the ladies chattered 
 on, and deftly labored to modify the lingering vestiges 
 of a savage state at the termination of their soft, white 
 fingers. The scissors were stumpy, curved and sharp 
 ly pointed like the beaks of hawks ; and as the}' con 
 tinued their work they seemed at the same time to be 
 tearing numerous reputations into fragments.
 
 212 NEWPORT. 
 
 Mrs. Dccring finished her task first, and, being 
 obliged to go, bade the rest good-morning. As soon 
 as she had disappeared, the lady in the ruby turban 
 saw an opportunity to equalize matters for Mrs. Farley 
 Blazer by introducing a slight diversion at Mary's 
 expense. 
 
 "I'm afraid," she observed, "our last remarks 
 weren't entirely agreeable to Mrs. Deering." 
 
 "Oh," began Mrs. Ballard Mole, "on account 
 of" 
 
 "Mr. Atlee, of course," supplemented Mrs. Rich 
 ards. 
 
 " It really is becoming disgraceful," said the ruby 
 turban, " the way those two are going on. It grows 
 worse and worse." 
 
 " Can't something be done to stop it? " queried Mrs. 
 Mole, in a regenerating frame of mind. "I really 
 wish there could." 
 
 "Stop it?" Miss De Peyster shrilled. "Stop an 
 avalanche ! Why, he goes with her everywhere, 
 driving, hunting, polo ; and not satisfied with that, 
 they take quiet walks together in the twilight. Then 
 they are on the Cliff, Sundays. He never goes to 
 church with her, I notice, but he spends a great deal 
 of time at the house, and is constantly there at dinner 
 while Mr. Deering is in New York. I should think she 
 would have some consideration for her children's sakes, 
 at least. What she can find in the man, either ! Really 
 and truly, I think sometimes people ought just to be 
 exiled ! " 
 
 An instant's silence intervened after this outburst ;
 
 HAWKS AND DOVES. 213 
 
 and then Mrs. Richards said sweetly, "My dear, you 
 shouldn't use the steel. It's injurious." She referred 
 merely to the fact that Miss De Pcyster, in her pre 
 occupied excitement, was rather fiercely prodding one 
 of her finger-nails with the smooth end of a flat steel 
 file. 
 
 They had now reached the powdering and polishing 
 stage of their work, and the remarks interchanged 
 gradually took on a more suave and dignified character, 
 
 The reflections which had been made upon Mary 
 Deering were not, however, confined to the self-improv 
 ing coterie whose confidences we have allowed our 
 selves to summarize. Oliphaut had here and there 
 come upon the traces of similar ones, which, aided by 
 his own observation, had disturbed him excessively. 
 He noticed the increasing imprudence of his cousin's 
 conduct ; also that Roger now came on to Newport less 
 frequently than before, and that when he did come 
 there was a queer kind of restraint on his part towards 
 his wife. The ruddy-faced, short-haired broker's for 
 mer air of confidence was perceptibly subdued. To 
 Oliphant the change was pathetic, and he had resolved 
 to speak to his cousin seriously. He fancied that he 
 understood the case. Mary Deering had simply had 
 her head turned by the frivolities of the place, and had 
 been led into making an idol of this Anglicized non 
 entity, who to her mind represented the most important 
 local tendency. Nevertheless, she ought not to carry 
 her idolatry too far. 
 
 Obeying his advisoiy impulse, he betook himself to 
 her house, on the second day after the concert j but
 
 214 NEWPORT. 
 
 Mary was not at home. He decided to wait ; and in a 
 moment or two, seeing the door into the dining-room 
 half open and some one apparently seated at the table 
 there, he moved to the threshold, half believing that it 
 was Atlec. With a rush of sudden anger, he deter 
 mined to upbraid the dandy, and so stepped forward 
 vigorously. But, to his astonishment, he beheld only 
 little Clarence in a chair by the table. 
 
 The boy had a glass of claret and water before him, 
 and was smoking a cigarette. 
 
 "What docs this mean?" cried Oliphant. "Are 
 you crazy, Clarence?" 
 
 "I'm trying to soothe my nerves," the child an 
 swered, looking up wearily at him. Oliphant was hor 
 rified at the premature age in his unformed little 
 countenance. He stood speechless. "It's just what 
 papa does now," Clarence continued, calmly, " when 
 ever he comes here. I don't know what the matter is, 
 but " At this point he slid from his chair, and rapid 
 ly made his way towards Oliphant. " Oh, cousin Oli 
 phant, papa doesn't seem a bit happy ! Last time he 
 came here, he took me out on the piazza, and mamma 
 and Mr. Atlcc were talking all the time, inside here, 
 and papa said to me, he asked me, wasn't it queer? 
 if I didn't want to go away with him back to New 
 York, or way out West somewhere ; and I said I didn't, 
 unless mamma and all of us were going. And then 
 he said, ' Um,' like that," Clarence pursed his lips 
 up severely, " and he said he didn't think there was 
 any room for us here, he did. Now what did he mean, 
 cousin Oliphant?"
 
 HAWKS AND DOVES. 215 
 
 His cousin took him by the hand and led him away 
 into the other room, sickened and aghast by the dreary, 
 unconscious revelation ; but just as he was making a 
 suitably superficial reply, Mary Deering appeared from 
 the hall. 
 
 She dismissed Clarence with harsh peremptoriness, 
 to his nurse, and returned to Oliphant, looking, as he 
 conceived, rather distraught and ill at ease. It was 
 late ; the dusk was beginning to throw its soft folds of 
 crape around the trees and the house, casting deeper 
 shadows into the small interior. Oliphant thought 
 Mrs. Deering must have a prescient sense of his object 
 in calling upon her. Ah, how sadly unlike that bright, 
 playfully mischievous face with which she met him when 
 he first dropped down in Newport was the mobile, anx 
 ious one that he saw opposite to him now ! 
 
 A. crisis impended. He opened his attack weakly 
 with some general inquiries about Roger. 
 
 Suddenly they heard steps ascending to the piazza. 
 There was an impetuous knock at the door. Again 
 Oliphant thought of Atlee, and became so excited that 
 he braced himself for a personal encounter. Mary 
 Deering, overwrought and expectant of some painful 
 scene, uttered a low cry. But, as they rose to meet 
 the new-comer, their suspense relaxed ; for it was 
 Stillman Ware whom they descried in the increasing 
 gloom. 
 
 " Is my sister here? " he inquired at once. 
 
 They both answered, " No." 
 
 " I meant," said Stillman, in a shaky and unnerved 
 sort of way, "is Mr. Oliphant here? Ah, yes, that
 
 216 NEWPORT. 
 
 is Mr. Oliphant. I have just been to Mrs. Gifford's 
 to look for my sister ; and she isn't there. "We can't 
 find her. Do you know any thing about 3'oung Craig's 
 movements? " 
 
 " Nothing," returned Oliphant, " except that he told 
 me he should be out of town this afternoon." 
 
 "Then," cried Stillman, clapping one hand to his 
 distracted little bald forehead, "they have gone to 
 gether! My God, Oliphant, she has run away with 
 him!"
 
 XIV. 
 
 THE FLIGHT OF A METEOR. 
 
 one could tell how the elopement had come 
 about, but every one was voluble in relating that 
 the event had really taken place, and there were many 
 wild rumors and surmises added to the fact. It was 
 said that several persons had suspected that something 
 of the kind was about to happen ; there was also a 
 story of a clandestine meeting effected by the two 
 young people near the Forty Steps, the night after the 
 concert. A servant had seen a woman's white figure 
 in the grassy street there, which was presently joined 
 by a dark, shadowy man, and both had disappeared 
 over the edge of the Cliff, so that the servant had 
 thought them to be ghosts, and kept silence, through 
 fear. The fashionable world was excitedly scandal 
 ized ; poor little Stillman continued in great agitation ; 
 Mrs. Ware took it upon herself to be "prostrated," 
 and her course in so doing was generally approved by 
 her friends. A search was begun for the fugitives, 
 and Stillman even engaged detective assistance. 
 
 But, whatever else might be in doubt, it was soon 
 made clear that Octavia and Oliphant received a largo 
 share of blame for the occurrence. The circumstance 
 
 217
 
 218 NEWPORT. 
 
 of the two runaways having dined at High Lawn with 
 the widow and widower, a few days before, came to 
 light, and was construed as a proof of connivance. It 
 was also remembered that, on the previous Sunday, 
 Octavia and Oliphant had strolled on the Cliff Walk 
 with Justin, and that, by turning often, they kept 
 meeting Vivian, who was likewise sauntering in the 
 throng there with Count Fitz-Stnart. 
 
 In reality our friends knew nothing about the 
 scheme ; but the false construction placed upon them 
 was strengthened by Oliphant's receiving very promptly 
 a message from Craig, dated at Tiverton, and saying 
 that Vivian and he, having been quietly married, had 
 taken lodging for a short time in that modest and 
 drowsy watering-place, which gazes so meekly from 
 the mainland towards the prouder shores of Aquidneck 
 Island. The reason for their precipitancy was that 
 the count, becoming urgent, and being sustained by 
 Mrs. Chauncey Ware and Stillman, had insisted upon 
 an ultimate decision as to his suit, and Vivian had 
 been driven to an unexpected mode of settling the 
 question. 
 
 Oliphant hastened by the first train to Tiverton ; 
 and finding that Justin had no capital beyond two or 
 three hundred dollars, a large part of which he had 
 received for his services in the Sweetser concert, he 
 made the heartiest offers of assistance. " You know," 
 he said, " I was going to send you to Germany. I 
 meant to hand you, as a first instalment, a thousand 
 dollars. Why not take it now? " 
 
 "Because I'm not going to Germany just yet," said
 
 THE FLIGHT OF A METEOR. 219 
 
 Justin, with buoyant good fellowship and enviable 
 serenity. " I shall go on with my work at Trinity and 
 find people to take piano lessons." 
 
 " But if you need me you will let me know?." queried 
 Oliphant almost plaintively, pleading with the porten 
 tous self-reliance of the new husband. " Miss Vivian, 
 Mrs. Craig, I mean, I rely upon you to see to 
 this ; " and he appealed to her. 
 
 Vivian was dressed in white, as usual. Her costume 
 was an expensive work of artifice, imported from Paris, 
 which by a rare purity of outline, with a draping of 
 folds from one shoulder across the waist, produced a 
 semi-statuesque Greek effect, gaining piquancy from 
 its utter inappropriateness to Vivian's quick, whimsi 
 cal, and wholly modern attitudes and gestures. The 
 three were standing on a plot of grass in front of the 
 absurdly stunted and riotously ugly French-roofed 
 cottage where the lovers had ensconced themselves. 
 Vivian gave a little half jump, which disarranged her 
 classic folds, and said, "You are a dear good fellow, 
 Mr. Oliphant ; and we appreciate you. But I'm sure 
 my husband can make his own way. Can't you, 
 Justin?" 
 
 She placed one hand for an instant on Justin's arm, 
 in token of dependence and of possession, but quickly 
 took it away again. Then she fronted towards Oli 
 phant, with a shining happiness in her eyes, the like 
 of which he had never seen. 
 
 He had come to play the part of a venerable bene 
 factor, bestowing something of practical value on these 
 children. He went away as the recipient of an inspi-
 
 220 NEWPORT. 
 
 ration from that spectacle of ideal love which made 
 him poor by contrast, and reproached him with his 
 poverty. 
 
 Intending to go and describe his visit to Octavia (to 
 whom he had already sent a note saying that he had 
 heard from the truants) , he was prevented from doing 
 so, on his return, by an occurrence so extraordinary 
 as to merit recital. 
 
 Transcontinental Telegraph stock, under the impulse 
 imparted to it through the private wire from Thorburn's 
 villa, had been executing some interesting but not 
 unnatural manoeuvres. First it fell off a very little in 
 price ; then it began to rise ; and as it ascended there 
 were many purchases made on the strength of a rumor 
 that Thorburn had gone to work in earnest to " peg " 
 the stock quite up to par. The buyers were very con 
 fident ; they wore a joyous look, as of men at last 
 released from all harassing doubts, and kindly pre 
 sented with a free pass to fortune. No one could 
 explain precisely why the thing was so certain, but few 
 thought of questioning. It was one of those grand 
 spontaneous movements of the human mind which, in 
 Wall Street, teach us that faith in the unseen and the 
 unknowable still survives, however much the churches 
 may bemoan its decline. Suddenly, however, Trans 
 continental began to go down again. It dropped below 
 the point from which it had started, and kept on sink 
 ing, by eighths and quarters, from one figure to another, 
 with ominous regularit}\ Did this shake the sublime 
 confidence of the multitude ? Not at all. A few timid
 
 THE FLIGHT OF 4 METEOR. 221 
 
 souls here and there shrank affrighted, and parted with 
 their holdings ; but there were plenty of people who 
 had bought at the highest prices, and now not only 
 kept increasing their margins, but also invested in more 
 shares. 
 
 Their courage was apparently justified when the 
 stock began to rally and went up several points in a 
 l'\v days. Many now sold out and cleared handsome 
 amounts. Those, however, who were anxious to " get 
 iu " and go on with the flood-tide were more numerous ; 
 and Thorburu accommodated them with a good deal of 
 stock which he had acquired at a lower price. At last, 
 after one or two more of these ups and downs, and 
 when Thorburn had sold a sufficient quantity " short," 
 Transcontinental took its final plunge. It had been 
 like a kite sailing aloft and -gleefully watched by school 
 boys, as it rose or fell with the wind ; but the pulling 
 of the string had brought it to such a point that, with 
 out warning, the kite came tilting over on its head, 
 and made straight for the ground. 
 
 Perry ran to his father for advice. That heroic old 
 gentleman told him that without pluck and endurance 
 he never would make an " operator." He pointed out 
 some of the reasons why Transcontinental never could 
 remain for a great length of tune at the bottom of the 
 heap. 
 
 "Still," he said, "7 can't advise you. You must 
 dr-ide every thing for yourself, and make up your 
 mind whether you are carrying too much load or not." 
 
 Ive-assmvd, Perry held on, and many of his friends 
 and their acquaintance, knowing this, did likewise.
 
 222 NEWPOET. 
 
 Some actually continued to buy in afresh. Presently, 
 however, he and they awoke to the fact that they were 
 in a financial Bay of Fundy, where the ebb of the tide 
 was abnormal and beyond their calculations. The 
 sinking went on immitigably. Old Thorburn professed 
 to be unable to account for it, and seemed perplexed. 
 Then Perry, who had assumed altogether too large a 
 risk, and was alread}* severely depleted by his margins, 
 decided to take care of himself. He got rid of nearly 
 all his Transcontinental at an enormous sacrifice, paid 
 in full for a couple of hundred shares which he retained, 
 and found that his losses amounted to nearly fifty 
 thousand dollars. 
 
 "Now, sir," he said to his father, with pardonable 
 indignation in his tone, ".I've acted without consulting 
 you," and he explained his situation, omitting to speak 
 of the shares he had kept ; " but I should like to know 
 what you meant by getting me into this trap. I con 
 sider that I've been treated outrageously ! " 
 
 Old Thorburu displayed no anger. On the contrary 
 he leaned back in his chair, beneath the spider-web 
 design of his alcove, and laughed slyly, then broadly ; 
 finishing up with a second sly chuckle. "Why, my 
 dear boy," said he, in his heavy, spongy voice, " what 
 are you talking about? Can't you see the point?" 
 
 " The point, eh? Is it a joke? " 
 
 "Of course it is, for you and me. Some of > the 
 outsiders, I suppose, think it's pretty serious. I just 
 wanted to show you how to do things." 
 
 ' \Vell, you've shown me how to lose fifty thousand 
 dollars."
 
 THE FLIGHT OF A METEOR. 223 
 
 Old Then-burn broke into a roar of laughter. " Ex 
 actly !" he cried. "And now that you know how, 
 don't you do it again. That's my advice, Perry. By 
 George, this is the neatest piece of tactics I ever car 
 ried through ! ' ' 
 
 " You call it neat, then, to swindle your. own son? " 
 Peny inquired, with intense disgust. 
 
 " 'Swindle' is your word, not mine," returned his 
 father. " Call it what you like. /call it keeping my 
 own counsel. I've taught you not to trust anybody 
 in business, not even me." Thorburn's manner 
 conveyed a sort of virtuous surprise at himself that 
 he could not be trusted. " And at the same time, I've 
 used you to good purpose in making the mob do just 
 what I wanted. Damn it, Perry," the old gentle 
 man was beginning to exhibit heat, "I should think 
 you would have some kind of appreciation, instead of 
 growling like a hurt child." 
 
 Perry's expression was far from conveying respect. 
 " Perhaps I have some kind of appreciation," he said, 
 curtly. " And now I suppose you're going to work to 
 drive the stock up, after buying all you wanted from 
 me and from the rest at a ruinous rate." 
 
 " We shall see," answered the elder man, crafty 
 glee re-appearing in his eyes. " I don't like to tell you 
 any thing about it, because you see ha, ha ! you 
 mitrht not believe me." 
 
 At this climax, his merriment entirely overcame him, 
 and Perry scornfully left him to enjoy it by himself. 
 The only satisfaction he had was in the thought of 'the 
 shares he owned, which would receive the benefit of
 
 224 NEWPORT. 
 
 his father's next move, and probably bring him back 
 in the long run a third of what he had lost. Yet even 
 this prospect gave him a certain horror of himself, 
 because it reminded him that he was acting on the same 
 instinct of deceit which struck him as so hideous in his 
 father. 
 
 Thorburn senior proceeded to encourage the market, 
 for the purpose of realizing the immense profits which 
 formed the object of all his strategy ; but his victims 
 were, for the most part, too much crippled to take the 
 field again and share in the benefit of the gradual rise 
 which presently began. Many of them, indeed, were 
 wrecked for life by the terrible throw their invisible 
 antagonist had given them. 
 
 Raish Porter was a heavy sufferer ; and, besides 
 being greatly out of pocket, he had to endure the dis 
 appointment of learning that Perry, owing to the ab 
 sorption of half his private property in the recent 
 " deal," would be unable to take at present the block 
 of Orbicular stock which had been promised him. It 
 was a painful crisis for Raish ; but he did not lose his 
 nerve. His quiet, searching eye remained impertur 
 bable as ever ; his bluff, self-confident demeanor under 
 went no change ; and perhaps he would have found a 
 way out of his dilemma, had it not been for sundry 
 other unlucky accidents. 
 
 Mr. Hobart had become dissatisfied with the slow 
 progress of the Orbicular Company, from which as yet 
 he could get no return on his investment ; and, what 
 was more serious, he began to evince suspicion regard 
 ing the value of the company's patents. Raish sug-
 
 THE FLIGHT OF A METEOR. 225 
 
 gcstcd that he should ask Judge Malachi Hixon to 
 confer with his (Raish's) lawyer, Strange, and inves 
 tigate the subject anew. Raish was fond of extolling 
 the judge's incorruptibility, but this was chiefly with 
 a feeling that it might some time be peculiarly useful 
 to have Hixon considered unimpeachable ; privately, 
 he believed that he could insinuate his own prepared 
 statements into that gentleman's mind, and induce him 
 to ratify them. 
 
 Accordingly it was settled that Strange should call 
 upon the judge, at the Ocean House. He did so, and 
 was courteously received by the learned Malachi, who 
 was grappling at the moment with an especially huge 
 and black cigar, the pressure of his lips upon which 
 greatly increased the usual complexity of wrinkles in 
 his face. 
 
 " So you think this is a good thing, Mr. Strange? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " Oh, excelsior," said Strange, casually as it were, 
 and softly. He was a small, dexterous, accommodat 
 ing man, with a conical head, which looked as if it 
 would make a great effort to pass through almost any 
 required knot-hole. 
 
 "Have you got any papers with you schedules, 
 lists of the patents, and so forth? " 
 
 "Why, certainly; any amount," Mr. Strange re 
 plied, apparently eager to empty the contents of his 
 satchel. But, after bustling at it, he paused, and 
 launched into a general disquisition. He told of the 
 marvellous growth of the corporation, and named some 
 of the substantial men who held its stock ; and he
 
 226 NEWPORT. 
 
 was very ingenuous and pleasing and enthusiastic, 
 altogether. 
 
 Judge Hixon, nevertheless, continued to mention 
 the papers. Strange showed him one or two, and 
 then, after feeling around" a little, came to his point. 
 " I've told you enough in a general way," he said, 
 "to satisfy you of the excellence of the concern and 
 its prospects. We should like very much to have you 
 for a stockholder, judge, very much, indeed. Now, 
 any thing you can do in the way of satisfying Mr. 
 Hobart, or any one else who should fall into similar 
 confusion about the details of the affair, will be of as 
 much service to my client, of course, as to Mr. Ho 
 bart. Mr. Porter can let you have five thousand dol 
 lars' worth of the stock, just as well as not, and and 
 you needn't pay for it until convenient." 
 
 Mr. Strange was bland, but slightly nervous : his 
 conical head was, figuratively, preparing to dodge. 
 Judge Malachi Hixon straightened up in his chair, and 
 removed his right leg from its resting-place on the 
 knee of the left. He gazed steadily at Mr. Strange, 
 who hastily noted the judge's resemblance to a har 
 assed and dejected specimen of the American eagle, 
 and was in suspense as to which of the attributes of 
 that typical bird the judge was about to- offer, the 
 arrows or the olive-branch. 
 
 " It is a very liberal proposition," said Judge Hixon 
 slowly. " I haven't got any too much money laid up, 
 and this may prove profitable. Did you bring the 
 Btock with you ? ' ' 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Strange, diving into his bag with 
 the greatest alacrity.
 
 THE FLIGHT OF A METEOR. 227 
 
 * 
 
 11 Never mind it now," resumed the judge, genially, 
 taking the cigar out of his mouth and letting the wrin 
 kles ameliorate themselves. Then he placed it between 
 his teeth once more, and the wrinkles all came back. 
 " You can wait till I send for it," he explained. 
 " Meanwhile, leave me any papers you like, and I will 
 look them over." 
 
 "With the greatest pleasure," said Strange, and 
 left a few. 
 
 He reported his success to Raish. The game had 
 always worked well before, and they had no reason to 
 suppose that it would not do so now. But Malachi 
 Ilixon immediately set to work investigating in earnest. 
 He started the district attorney in New York upon the 
 case, and rapidly pumped into his own mental reser 
 voir whatever knowledge Hobart had of the company's 
 transactions. By means of brief research and some 
 detective work, it was found that the enterprise had 
 been built up from small beginnings by advertising in 
 metropolitan journals, then copying these advertise 
 ments with laudatory notices in rural papers through 
 out several States, and by sustaining a showy office 
 upon the receipts which rapidly flowed in. Appar 
 ently, all the money obtained was spent in clerk-hire 
 and more advertising. Then Porter had flown for 
 higher game ; and, through his business and social 
 connections, had induced a number of capitalists to 
 put in considerable sums. The district attorney was 
 surprised at some of the names Strange had given him, 
 but his inquiry corroborated the list. Little by little, 
 he ascertained that these men were convinced that the
 
 228 NEWPORT. 
 
 Orbicular Manufacturing Company was fraudulent, but 
 did not dare to appear against its promoter, for fear 
 of injuring their own credit with the banks ; since a 
 prosecution must reveal their want of judgment in 
 making such an investment. Fortunately Hobart, 
 being a man of irritable leisure, and vindictive as well, 
 was not restrained by any such scruples. 
 
 It was important, however, to obtain further evi 
 dence of imposture by proving the unauthorized char 
 acter of some of the manufactures contemplated by 
 Raish. Unexpectedly, this came to hand, through the 
 labors of the detective. A workman employed in an 
 other machine-shop was brought to confess that he 
 had traced the patterns of appliances made by his 
 employers, and had furnished them to Raish, who in 
 turn had had drawings made from them, with which 
 he shrewdly dazzled the minds of successive investors. 
 
 On the evening of Oliphant's return from Tiverton, 
 after he had dined comfortably at the Queen Anne cot 
 tage with Raish, the latter noticed that his guest was 
 thoughtful and looked despondent. The truth is, 
 Eugene was overburdened with anxiety for the results 
 of Justin's rash proceeding, with worry about Mary 
 Deering, and with his own problem in connection with 
 Octavia. 
 
 "Do you ever feel gloomy?" Raish asked him, 
 blowing out a cloud of smoke which thinly veiled the 
 cheery twinkle of his eyes. 
 
 "Yes, I do," answered Oliphant solemnly. 
 
 " Well, / don't ! " Raish affirmed, with hearty satis-
 
 THE FLIGHT OF A METEOR. 229 
 
 faction. "It doesn't pay. I've seen a good many 
 vicissitudes, and I've been through more than one Sat 
 urday night when I didn't have a red cent in my 
 pocket, and didn't know where my Sunday's dinner 
 was coming from. But I've always smoked the besi; 
 cigars and drank the very best wines, and I never have 
 felt gloomy." 
 
 There was such a superabundance of ease and buoy 
 ancy in Raish 's tone, that Oliphant began to feel de 
 cidedly better. 
 
 Ten minutes later, some one rang at the door. 
 James returned to the parlor and announced a strange 
 gentleman, on business. "Well, let's see him," said 
 Raish, good-humoredly. " I haven't any appointment 
 at this hour, but show him right in, James." 
 
 The visitor proved to be a sergeant of police, in 
 plain clothes, with requisition papers from the Gov 
 ernor of Rhode Island and a warrant for Raish's arrest 
 on a charge of obtaining money under false pretences 
 
 " Never heard any thing so ridiculous in my life ! " 
 exclaimed Raish, cordially. " How do you explain it, 
 sergeant? Who's the complainant? By the way, have 
 a cigar? " 
 
 "Thank you, sir," said the sergeant, accepting the 
 favor. "The complaint was entered by Mr. Ilobart. 
 You know him, I suppose." 
 
 "I have an idea that I do," Raish responded. 
 " But I never was aware that the Ilobart I know could 
 be so silly and suicidal as to do this. Sit down, and 
 let's see if we can't straighten the thing out, somehow.'* 
 
 After a brief colloc u , Raish perceived that there
 
 230 NEWPORT. 
 
 was no escape : he was given a letter from Hobart, in 
 forming him of the workman's confession. Neverthe 
 less, he maintained his janntincss, and proposed to the 
 sergeant that he be allowed to remain in the house over 
 night, and proceed to New York in the morning. 
 
 This the sergeant at first refused : he had two other 
 officers waiting outside, and said it was impossible to 
 keep them up all night. But Raish insisted on their 
 being asked in. " We'll give 'em some supper, at any 
 rate," he declared, with as much welcome as if they 
 had been the most desired of companions. " Better 
 stay over, sergeant," he continued, invitingly. "I'll 
 give yon all a fine sail on my yacht to Wickford, first 
 thing in the morning, and we can take any train you 
 like for Providence. It's nothing but a dj'speptic whim 
 of old Hobart' s," he added to Oliphant : " I don't see 
 why I should be so inconvenienced by it." 
 
 The officer was really charmed by Raish's ease and 
 hospitality, and at length fell in with the plan. His 
 prisoner then applied himself to packing a valise, and 
 setting his affairs in order as well as he could, though 
 he was not allowed to handle a single object without 
 close surveillance, nor to be for a moment out of sight. 
 About one o'clock, Raish asked permission to walk up 
 and down the open piazza at one side of the house, with 
 Oliphant. This was granted, but the sergeant took a 
 chair out, too, and remained on guard. 
 
 Raish tramped leisurely to and fro with his friend, 
 talking in his customary entertaining way. All at 
 once, Oliphant was startled out of the mood of a quiet 
 listener by seeing Raish put his fingers into his vest-
 
 THE FLIGHT OF A METEOR. 231 
 
 pocket and then suddenly raise his arm, carrying a 
 small object to his lips. 
 
 Without having time to reflect', Oliphant instinctively 
 struck down the arm and clutched Kaish's hand. There 
 was a small phial in it, which llaish attempted to throw 
 away ; but his friend was too quick for him, and seized 
 it. The sergeant came promptly to their side, and pin 
 ioned the brilliant financier. 
 
 " Yes, it's poison," Raish confessed in a species of 
 gasp, answering Oliphant's look of amazement and 
 reproach. " Cyanide of potassium. In two minutes 
 I should have been a dead man. Oh, yes, it's all up, 
 Oliphant, my boy. Too bad, too bad ! " He lifted 
 his forehead, and gazed at the sky for an instant. 
 "You remember what I said this evening about the 
 best cigars ? " he went on, smiling sarcastically. " Well, 
 there they are : all those stars ! Those are the smoul 
 dering stumps, it strikes me." He groaned slightly. 
 " Ah," he cried, " I was too respectable ! I ought to 
 have been like the gamblers over there, who are plying 
 their game at this moment, and are left in peace ; or 
 else like old Thorburn, who cleaned me out, and pre 
 vented me from warding off this accident. I'll tell you 
 what I'm reminded of : that fellow who was porter (see 
 the pun?) on a drawing-room car, and had a wife at 
 each end of the line. By his painstaking diligence in 
 bigamy he attained to the :;ipe honors of a term in the 
 penitentiary ; but the only thing he regretted was that he 
 couldn't divide his term, as he had all his other pos 
 sessions, between the two wives ! I would be willing 
 to make that sacrifice myself, for Thorburn and the 
 other gamblers."
 
 232 NEWPORT. 
 
 Something of his wonted hilarity returned to him as 
 he finished. " I'm more sorry than I can tell you, for 
 all this," said Oliphant. " Is there any thing I can do 
 for you, Porter? " 
 
 "Nothing whatever, my boy." The sergeant here 
 explained that he felt obliged to put handcuffs upon 
 his prisoner, and Raish, having submitted to that op 
 eration, talked on without embarrassment. " I only 
 want you," he said, " to recognize the correctness of 
 what I have said to you about the hollowness and hum 
 bug of society here. I'm a humbug, and therefore I 
 was able to perceive it all. I don't speak from envy : 
 what good would that do me now? No, I merely 
 notice that I am a straw on the current, or a falling 
 cigar-stump in the sky, that shows what may happen 
 as soon as a general overturn begins." 
 
 When the first chill and distant gray light of morn 
 ing came, Oliphant accompanied his quondam host and 
 the police officers to the wharves, whence they were 
 rowed out to the Amaranth. He watched her getting 
 under sail, and waited until the pretty schooner was 
 well out in the harbor. Far above her, one star glim 
 mered wearily in the pale, whitish-blue of the sky ; but 
 that, too, faded while the yacht was growing smaller, 
 and disappeared.
 
 T 
 
 XV. 
 
 A MAN'S ORDEAL. 
 
 HE season was now at its height. The President 
 -- was in town, alternately making brief public ap 
 pearances, and being spirited from house to house 
 among the select few who had captured him, in a 
 furtive and costly seclusion, as if he had been some 
 influential malefactor whom it was desirable to keep 
 out of the wa3 r . The fragments of a religious con 
 vention and- those of a political reform convention, 
 which had recently been held there, were still drifting 
 about the place. Entertainments of the most brilliant 
 sort were multiplied to distraction ; the lawn-tennis 
 tournament was on the point of collecting upon the 
 Casino lawn a dense parterre of beautiful women in 
 ravishing costumes ; and in fine, the whirl of gay life, 
 which was doomed to cease in two or three weeks 
 more, made one think of a giant soap-bubble circling 
 faster and faster, and gathering a wilder glow of color 
 as the instant of bursting draws nearer. 
 
 The collapse of one adventurer like Raish Porter 
 was a mere incident in the general history of the sea 
 son's bubble ; but it created a widespread and intense 
 astonishment, and, coming so soon after the runaway 
 
 288
 
 234 NEWPORT. 
 
 marriage, it swallowed up the excitement wh.ch had 
 eddied for a little while around Justin and Vivian. 
 
 People were greatly surprised that Raish should have 
 turned out as he had done. And it is noticeable that 
 this matter of how individuals "turn out" is always 
 a great mystery to the world. The reason is that the 
 world occupies itself with exteriors, not interiors, of 
 character ; consequently, when that which is in a man 
 conies in due time to the front, the crowd is puzzled 
 because he has "turned out" to public view what it 
 might all along have known was there, had it taken 
 the trouble to inquire within. 
 
 Mrs. Farley Blazer was a loser to a considerable 
 extent by the downfall of her confidential friend, com 
 panion, and adviser. She was greatly incensed at 
 his fiasco, and the rumor soon came into circulation 
 that she had used very profane language as was 
 her wont on occasions of great excitement when 
 news of the arrest first reached her. The financial 
 injury done to her, although not serious in proportion 
 to the large income allowed her by her neglected 
 and broken-down husband, was especially exasperating 
 because she was always averse to parting with money 
 in any way, and because she had made up her mind, 
 immediately on Vivian's elopement, to purchase Count 
 Fitz-Stuart for her niece Ruth, by paying off his debts. 
 That expense, which had already caused her much 
 anticipatory anguish, yet was inevitable, now became 
 a source of redoubled pain. 
 
 But it was Oliphant who, though not entangled in 
 the wreck, felt its immediate effects in the most taugi-
 
 A NAN'S OEDEAL. 235 
 
 ble way. Raish's property was all promptly attached, 
 including the yacht, his horses and equipages, and 
 whatever belonged to him in the Craig cottage. The 
 household came, as a matter of course, to a dead stop, 
 and the servants prepared to leave. Oliphant, how 
 ever, had an. inspiration : he saw an opportunity to 
 turn the situation to account in a way that captivated 
 his heart. He engaged the servants to remain, and 
 lost no time in striking a bargain with Mr. Craig, by 
 which he agreed to pay the rent for a certain period, 
 which Raish had left in arrear, and also to retain 
 the house until the first of October, at an increased 
 rate, on condition that part of the money was to go 
 to Justin. This being settled, he went again to Tiv- 
 erton, and threw himself upon the compassion of his 
 young friends there. He was entirely alone, he said, 
 and wanted some one to take charge of the house 
 and banish the reminiscences of Raish which, other 
 wise, would haunt him there. Would the}' not come 
 down and occupy it? All he wanted for himself was 
 his present room, and perhaps a breakfast : most of 
 the time he should be elsewhere. He represented, 
 modestly, that it would be a great favor to him, if 
 they would come. 
 
 "Ah," said Justin, with a tremble of ready sen 
 timent in his young voice, and putting his hands on 
 Oliphant's two shoulders, " if you weren't so much 
 older than I, I should call you the ir.o? f delicious, 
 friendly fraud I ever knew. Of course we see through 
 you don't we, Vivian?" and he turned to her for 
 the quick corroboratiou of which he was sure. " lint
 
 236 NEWPOET. 
 
 as long as it's a delightful plan, and you've been 
 guilty of a deception, I shouldn't wonder if we were 
 to punish 3 7 ou by accepting it." 
 
 They did accept. They came down that evening ; 
 and there in his old home, with his old piano, Justin 
 made the keys warble like a choir of birds, and filled 
 Oliphant with generous satisfaction at the pleasure he 
 had been able to bestow and the gladness that was 
 given him in return. How like a dream it seemed ! 
 Only two months ago he had sat in the same place 
 listening to Justin, and thinking of his apparently 
 hopeless passion for Vivian Ware ; and now she was 
 here as Justin's bride. It was a happy omen ; for at 
 that time he had thought of Octavia, too, and at this 
 moment he was thinking of her again ! 
 
 It \vas several days since he had been able to see 
 her, and he was resolved upon going to High Lawn on 
 the morrow. He wanted to tell her how nicely the two 
 young people were provided for ; he wanted to tell 
 her but why go over it in advance ? He knew per 
 fectly well what he wished to say ; and yet, on reflec 
 tion, he didn't know very clearly. It eluded him in 
 the most singular manner. The only thing was to go 
 and see if it would elude him in Octavia's presence. 
 
 Before starting out, in the morning, he asked Vivian 
 if she had any message for Octavia, in case he should 
 see her ; but doubtless the young wife would have 
 guessed whither he had gone, without that. And 
 when, all day, he did not make his appearance, she 
 and Justin could not help thinking that the interview 
 had resulted in something of unusual importance.
 
 A MAN'8 ORDEAL. 237 
 
 Oliphant went on foot, and every step seemed to 
 make him lighter and more buoyant, instead of caus 
 ing effort. The old song was liummiug itself in his 
 brain, for the first time in a long interval : 
 
 " An' I were as fair as she, 
 Or she were as kind as I ; " 
 
 and it had a new significance now, though it carried 
 him back to the day when he first saw Octavia. As he 
 reached the small gate admitting to a side-path that 
 led up to High Lawn, another sound greeted him, 
 a sound from without. It was the jangling chirr of 
 the steel chains on Octavia's fleet horses, and for a 
 moment Oliphant was troubled by the idea that she 
 was just leaving the house ; but the next instant he 
 perceived that the carriage was approaching from the 
 road above. Though he could not see it through 
 the intervening English beeches, he heard it enter the 
 drive, and knew that it swept up to the door, leaving 
 a reminiscence of silvery tones in the air, which blended 
 a wintry suggestion of sleigh-bells with the summer 
 landscape. 
 
 He was exultant that she should have returned so 
 in the nick of time to meet him ; it flattered him with 
 a fancy that some instinctive sense of his coming had 
 called her home. 
 
 When he presented himself, the maid, with a confi 
 dence that augured well, said, "I think she is in;" 
 then merely knocked at the half-open drawing-room 
 door and announced his name. Octavia was within : 
 she had just taken off her small, compact pansy bon-
 
 238 NEWPORT. 
 
 net, and held it in one hand by the strings, like a con 
 ventional shepherdess's flower-basket. 
 
 "Oh, then you didn't go away!" she exclaimed, 
 coming forward with a dazzling welcome in her face, 
 and what seemed to Oliphant a genuine air of relief. 
 She shook hands with him cordially. " I had heard of 
 Mr. Porter's downfall, and arrest, and all that," she 
 said to him, rapidly ; " and somehow I didn't feel sure 
 that you would stay, don't you know? I thought his 
 affairs might in some way affect you, might make it 
 necessary for you to go to New York." 
 
 "No, not at all," he returned, with unconscious 
 digntty. " I had no connection with them but the acci 
 dent of being in the house. And I certainly shouldn't 
 have gone without letting you know." 
 
 How much or how little meaning he put into those 
 last words was best known to Octavia. She slightly 
 withdrew, as she heard them, and seated herself by 
 the table, where she laid the minute basket-bonnet. 
 
 "I came near missing you," she proceeded, with 
 a more subdued demeanor. " I have just this moment 
 got back. Did 3-011 see me driving up ? I went early 
 to see Mrs. Chauncey "Ware." The whole truth was 
 that she had heard of Oliphant's taking the train the 
 day before, and part of her errand this morning had 
 been to find out casualty, if she could, whether he had 
 gone to New York or not. But of this she naturally 
 said nothing. "You know," she continued, "the 
 Wares were very indignant with both you and me, be 
 cause they thought we had helped them to run away ; 
 I mean Vivian and Justin. So I determined to go 
 down there and explain."
 
 A MAN'S ORDEAL. 239 
 
 " Do you think it was worth while, if they choose 
 to do us injustice? " asked Oliphant. 
 
 Octavia looked down, and blushed slightly. "I 
 don't care so much for myself," she answered with 
 hesitation. "I thought you would hardly care to 
 speak for yourself, but that I might speak of you. 
 Arc you sorry ? ' ' 
 
 " No ; I can't be, since you were taking that trouble 
 on my account." If she had glanced up she would 
 have seen that Oliphaut was looking at her very gently. 
 
 "And I told Mrs. Ware that we certainly sympa 
 thized with the young people,'' she went on, eagerly, 
 " and had hoped we should see them united." 
 
 "She'll be convinced of that," Oliphant remarked, 
 rather defiantly, " when she hears what I have done." 
 He, went on, then, to tell her about it. 
 
 Octavia gave him an arch look ; there was a sparkle 
 of approbation in her eye, and her lips were touched 
 with a mirthful sympathy. "Oh, yes," she cried, 
 " now you've injured yourself with Mrs. Ware, beyond 
 recovery ! I'm so glad ! " 
 
 "Oh, that's cruel rejoicing in my misfortune," 
 said Oliphant. 
 
 "I didn't mean that," Octavia answered. "You 
 know: for the sake of Vivian and Justin." And she 
 laughed at her mistake, so brightly and gayly that 
 Oliphant felt he had never until then been upon such 
 safe and easy terms with her. 
 
 " Then I'm not, irretrievably ruined with you and 
 Mrs. Craig," he said contentedly. "By the way, 
 Vivian sent her love to you."
 
 240 NEWPORT. 
 
 He failed in trying to utter this carelessly. A deeper 
 chord stirred in his voice, and Octavia felt that it was 
 the forerunner of something momentous. 
 
 " Thanks ; and please give her mine, Mr. Oliphant," 
 she returned, with downcast eyes. There was still a 
 pure, fine color in her cheeks. She turned half away, 
 to touch and smell some flowers upon the table ; and 
 it seemed as if while she inhaled their fragrance the 
 glow of their beauty was reflected in her face. 
 
 He was about to speak, when that sense of knowing 
 her so well and being on easy terms, which had just 
 encouraged him, departed ; and he felt that he hardly 
 knew her at all. He beheld her loveliness ; he could 
 sit there and carry on ordinary conversation, as her 
 acquaintance or friend; but what presumption had 
 brought him to suppose that he could ever go below 
 that fair surface ? He experienced the terror which is 
 not fear, but awe, that all finely strung natures are 
 subject to, the moment they surrender to a great emo 
 tion. 
 
 "Mrs. Gifford," he began, after trying to steady 
 himself against it, "do you know what has happened 
 to me, while we have been watching those two young 
 hearts those friends of ours?" 
 
 If a clear glance, free from all flaw of suspicion, 
 could have disarmed him, he would have been discon 
 certed then ; for she responded with just that sort of 
 glance, and the unperturbed expectancy of a child. 
 
 Perhaps it was not very certain in Oliphant's mind 
 whether or not she made any definite answer ; but the 
 chance was his (again to speak.
 
 A MAN'S OBDEAL. 241 
 
 " I have grown to love you," he said, swiftly, with 
 suppressed fervor. And all the while the strange awe 
 of that master-passion was upon him and controlled 
 him. 
 
 Did she, too, feel it? For an instant she covered 
 her face with her hands. When she took them away, 
 she was pale ; the magic of the roses had vanished 
 from her cheeks, and her apparent calm was maintained 
 with difficulty. 
 
 "You, Mr. Oliphant? " There was a trembling 
 hesitancy, a bewitching seductiveness, in her tone. 
 " Ah, why? And how was I to know? " 
 
 " One doesn't find a reason for love, Mrs. Gifford. 
 I only know that it is here in me, and is stronger than 
 I am, and that you created it. May I not bring back 
 to you what you have created? " 
 
 Like a woman luxuriating in some delicious melody, 
 familiar but long unheard, Octavia reclined slightly in 
 her fastidiously patterned chair, drinking in what he 
 said. 
 
 "Is it possible," she murmured softly, " that I have 
 been the cause of this in so short a time, Mr. Oli 
 phant?" 
 
 "But consider how rapidly we came to know each 
 other," he urged, "and how much has happened hi 
 that time." 
 
 " Yes, yes," she mused aloud, sympathetically. "It 
 has been very swift, and strange." 
 
 "More than that," he returned. " It has changed 
 the whole current of my life : I know what it is, again, 
 to be happy. "We have had the same thoughts and the
 
 242 NEWPORT 
 
 same interests, and every thing has seemed to bring us 
 into closer relation, all the time. Haven't you found 
 something in all this, too, Mrs. Gifford and some 
 thing that makes what I tell you now only natural? " 
 
 " Our friendship has given me a great deal of 
 pleasure," said Octavia, still enjoying the luxury of 
 receptiveness. 
 
 " But it is time for it to end ! " he declared, boldly. 
 "With me it has ended, because love has begun. 
 Oh, I know, Mrs. Gifford, I have little enough to offer. 
 I'm not rich, and I'm not brilliant or distinguished ; 
 but if I were, those things, after all, wouldn't be the 
 chief. I could only offer you myself and my honest 
 devotion, as I do now." 
 
 While he spoke he had risen ; and there he stood 
 with hands clasped tight together a figure so much 
 stronger than his words, so frank and determined yet 
 reverent, that Octavia became aware of having under 
 estimated the force of which he was capable. She 
 nerved herself. 
 
 "You make too little of your merit, Mr. Oliphant. 
 It is not a small thing to offer sincerely what you do. 
 But why choose me? Why am I more worthy of it 
 than some one else ? ' ' 
 
 ' ' Why ? ' ' echoed Oliphant, with an intonation that 
 bordered on a wondering laugh. " Because there can't 
 be any one else, beside you ! How can you think so 
 for a moment ? ' ' 
 
 " I could scarcely help the question," she answered. 
 " I was only thinking how easily there might be some 
 spirit much younger and fresher than mine some one
 
 A MAN'S ORDEAL. 243 
 
 who could gbic 3*011 all that your devotion would de 
 serve. Consider, Mr. Oliphant : is there no one like 
 that, whom you know? " Josephine was in her mind ; 
 and, while she flattered herself that she was giving 
 Josephine a chance, she was really extracting the last 
 drop of satisfaction from Oliphant's homage. 
 
 " It is a torture to me even to have you suggest such 
 a thing," he declared, with vehemence. "Do you 
 imagine that I have looked about me deliberately, and 
 made my choice by a cold calculation ? My sentiment 
 for you is spontaneous, and I had hoped that you 
 might have the same towards me. But you hesitate 
 and reflect and question. ... If it is not spontane 
 ous, if it requires an effort "... 
 
 "You misunderstand me," Octavia hastened to as 
 sure him, though speaking quite low. Her hold upon 
 her own purpose was weakening ; she feared that he 
 might drift away from her. " I like you very much 
 as a friend." 
 
 It did not surprise her, nor seem at all ridiculous, 
 to see him drop on one knee before her. "You will 
 care for me in the other way! " he cried, taking her 
 hand. " I'm not ashamed to ask your compassion. 
 You know my wretched loneliness, the emptiness of 
 my life ; but I have held myself together and existed 
 I never knew for what, until I met you. But now 
 that I have allowed myself this hope of you, if it is 
 taken away my loneliness and wretchedness will be 
 twice what they were before. I am dependent on 
 you." 
 
 "You are sure you have not deceived yourself?"
 
 244 NEWPORT. 
 
 she asked in long-drawn tones, that intimated a refine 
 ment of yearning rather than any doubt or reluctance. 
 
 "No, a thousand times! " he exclaimed, with joy 
 ous energy. " I ask you to be my wife, my veritable 
 wife the woman I love with a strength beyond any 
 thing I ever felt before ! You will consent, Octavia? " 
 , For the first time he had uttered, without prefix or 
 addition, her name : that strange, arbitrary, yet cov 
 eted password to the closest intimacy, which is so 
 easily seized, but so inoperative unless held by the 
 right person. 
 
 He fixed his eyes upon her, and she gave back his 
 gaze unfalteringly. I don't think she was certain, 
 even then, whether she would accept or reject him. 
 For a moment she permitted him all the sweetness of 
 a realized conquest : he believed that he had won her. 
 He saw an unwonted flashing in her eyes ; a warm 
 light that alternately advanced and retreated. As it 
 came forward that shifting light and was concen 
 trated on him, it seemed to be the glow of love. When 
 it retreated, it grew uncertain ; it was something else. 
 
 He rose, drawing her hand along with his, as if to 
 lift her also and clasp her to him. She, too, began to 
 rise, but as she did so she released her hand ; the bril 
 liance in her eyes retired, and yet filled them with an 
 illumination the whole character of which was changed. 
 She had recalled her determination. She remembered 
 the hour when, in that very room, amid all those soft 
 colors and those dainty surroundings, she had under 
 gone an agony of which Oliphant had been the imme 
 diate agent.
 
 A MAN'S ORDEAL. 245 
 
 Unaccountable, unnatural, though we may think it, 
 the impulse of revenge which that crisis had excited 
 had gone on persisting through her mutations of feel 
 ing about Oliphant, and revived at this instant, over 
 coming every other consideration. There the mood 
 was, at any rate ; and Oliphaut had to take its conse 
 quences, no matter how little logic or mercy it had in 
 it. 
 
 "No!" she said, abruptly. "I don't consent. I 
 cannot." 
 
 " Not consent? How can you say that, now? And 
 why? What has happened, to change you from a 
 moment ago ? ' ' 
 
 "I'm not changed: I am steadfast," answered 
 Octavia, almost fiercely, tossing her head slightly as 
 though to shake off some imaginary restraining touch. 
 " I never meant to take you ! I have given no prom 
 ise not the least word." 
 
 "Then why did you let me go so far? Why have 
 you gone so far yourself?" Oliphant demanded, in 
 sudden, fiery remonstrance. " Why couldn't you have 
 told me so at once ? ' ' 
 
 " I might have," she retorted, with a light, icy laugh. 
 "But it would have cut short an agreeable acquaint 
 ance. It wasn't I who made any advance, Mr. Oli 
 phant. You were the active one. And might I inquire 
 why you have gone so far, if you don't like the inevi 
 table result?" 
 
 " Because," Oliphant flung back, stingingly "be 
 cause I trusted you. Because I was unsuspicious, and 
 took it for granted that you had a sense of honor.
 
 246 NEWPORT. 
 
 Because I was candid with you from the start, and 
 placed myself, just as I was, unreservedly in your 
 hands." 
 
 . "At your time of life you should have known bet 
 ter," said Octavia, with a mocking compassion. "Is 
 it for a woman always to take care of a man, or of all 
 men, and protect them from distress, as well as her 
 self? I thought you would understand, of course, that 
 I might be drawn on by the charm of such perfect 
 attention as yours ; naturally, I might continue to re 
 ceive it as long as you thought it worth while to give 
 it." 
 
 ' ' Then you have done every thing deliberately ? " he 
 replied, iuferentially. 
 
 "Why not, Mr. Oliphant?" She made a lazy, 
 waving gesture with one hand. " It gave me pleasure. 
 Didn't it you, too?" 
 
 "O my God! Octavia!" he moaned, unthink 
 ingly bringing together in speech the two powers one 
 divine, the other how sadly human ! that controlled his 
 fate at this juncture. "And is this the end?" He 
 appeared dazed, for an instant ; then a fresh glow of 
 hope came to him. " I don't know why it is," he said, 
 half distraught, "but it seems to me that you are 
 hardly in earnest. You will reconsider. You had 
 some reason for wanting to test me ; but }'ou don't 
 mean all that you have said. For Heaven's sake, 
 tell me that you don't ! You saw what was coming ; 
 you could so easily have sent me awa} r ; but you 
 did not do it, and you gave me so much encourage 
 ment."
 
 A MAN'S ORDEAL. 247 
 
 Octavia watched him as impassively as she might 
 have done if he had been a curious automaton. One 
 arm rested on the holly mantel, and her head leaned 
 towards it : from her pallid face the eyes shone with a 
 still coldness only less hard than that of her diamond 
 ear-drops, which Oliphant now thought of always as 
 the petrifaction of tears ; and her long dress had 
 swept round her in heavy folds that suggested a ser 
 pentine coil, so that she suddenly portrayed herself to 
 him as a sorceress rising in the shape of woman from 
 a lower half that was monstrous. 
 
 "You have deceived yourself, Mr. Oliphant," she 
 answered, sweetly and calmly. "A few weeks ago 
 we were strangers, but peculiar circumstances brought 
 us together. You are trying to take advantage of them 
 that's all." 
 
 She saw an acute pain leap out and flood his face, 
 as it were, altering it instantaneously. There is such 
 a thing as spiritual bloodshed. A changed light of 
 suffering flows out over the countenance of one who 
 has been stabbed by words, as distinctly and with an 
 effect as terrible as that of the scarlet life-tide which 
 gushes from a physical wound. 
 
 " I must apologize humbl}' for my mistake," Oli 
 phant said. "It was a great oversight." He cast 
 about him briefly, with a despair that quickened into 
 frenzy. " How dreadful it must be for you," he 
 cried, ' to be afflicted with this sort of mistake ! Cut 
 if you have done as I begin to think you have ; if you 
 have only trifled ; if you have gone on purposely to 
 inflict punishment on a sincere affection, then I can
 
 248 NEWPORT. 
 
 tell you this, Mrs. Gifford you never loved, and you 
 don't know what love is ! But, no matter what you 
 have done, J love you still, with a senseless infatua 
 tion, and, as I began by being frank, I can say to 
 you now, if it gives you any satisfaction, that the 
 blow you have given me is bitter bitterer than 
 death!" 
 
 He turned to go to the door. 
 
 Octavia did not yet relent. "Yes, it may be bit 
 ter," she said, keenly; "but other men have been 
 rejected before now, and it was bitter to them, too, I 
 suppose." 
 
 Instantly, the whole scheme of her vengeance be 
 came plain to him, then. He flashed one look at 
 her, that told her so, and made her aware of her 
 littleness. 
 
 This, and her woman's desire still to be thought well 
 of to do a wrong, yet somehow be assured that she 
 was in the right dissolved her firmness. She 
 started from her contemplative attitude. 
 
 "What have I done? Oh, what have I said, Mr. 
 Oliphant, that I ought not to ? If I have caused you 
 pain, will you not forgive me? " 
 
 Perhaps the dumb animal that we strike, in our 
 power, forgives ; but its piteous eyes accuse us still. 
 For two or three moments, Oliphant remained mute ; 
 and the sight of him as he was then filled Octavia 
 with horror of herself. His -lips were steady, and 
 not a muscle of his face moved, yet every heart 
 beat seemed to send a pulsation of anguish across 
 it.
 
 A MAN'S ORDEAL. 249 
 
 "Forgive?" he repeated at length, with something 
 like contempt for an idle question. "Your request 
 does me honor, Mrs. Gifford. Of course, it's a man's 
 proudest prerogative to forgive." 
 
 A grim, curt laugh escaped him, and he made his 
 way quickly out of the house.
 
 XVI. 
 
 LITTLE EFFIE. 
 
 OLIPHANT'S most poignant anguish assailed him 
 after he had left Octavia. He smarted with ex 
 asperation at the absolute rebuff he had received ; but, 
 beyond that, and still more sharply, he writhed under 
 a sense of the weakness which had made it possible 
 to expose himself to such humiliation and despair, for 
 the sake of a mere fatuous illusion, a baseless dream, 
 that had cost him all his peace of mind and his slowly 
 acquired resignation to circumstances. 
 
 He was not resigned, now, you may believe. There 
 was a snapping and a tingling in his veins, all over 
 his body ; his brain was tortured by an insufferable 
 heat. It is no exaggeration to say that invisible furies 
 seemed to accompany him and lash him with their 
 whips, as he went along ; for this Oliphant, beneath 
 the peaceful, proper, and eminently modern blankness 
 of his outward man, carried capacities for the utmost 
 stress of emotion. 
 
 When he reached the gate of the drive he found it 
 impossible to go towards the town. A wrathful, un 
 qualified disgust for Newport had taken possession of 
 him : he felt that his whole sympathy with the place 
 250
 
 LITTLE EFFIE. 251 
 
 had been a factitious and temporary one, and had sud 
 denly fallen away from him. There was something 
 false in the life ; there was something false in Octavia : 
 it all hung together. He walked away blindly towards 
 the long, rolling moorland that lay between High Lawn 
 and the ocean ; he leaped a fence, and strode on 
 through the midst of a light, gathering fog, alone 
 and miserable, yet glad to have his misery to himself. 
 It was a region of low, rough-featured hills, or gradual 
 swells, with ridges of gray rock pricking their way 
 through the surface here and there, and showing in 
 their spiny course like the dorsal fins of some impos 
 sible subterrene sort of fish. It was a region bleak, 
 barren, and forsaken/, the sight of which accorded with 
 his wretched state of mind. Wandering on, he came 
 at last to where he could look out upon the ocean, 
 close by that spot where he and Octavia had gone 
 down together to the Pirate's Cave ; and there he 
 heard the strange variations of an alarum from the 
 steam fog-horn at Beaver Tail, which blew its colossal 
 goblin tones mysteriously through the pale, shrouding 
 vapor that overhung every thing around him. Though 
 meant as a warning, to him it brought temptation : it 
 was like the unearthly voice of an evil spirit, calling 
 him on to he knew not what. Then, abruptly, the fog 
 lifted a little, and revealed the patient, waiting sea: 
 the thought of refuge and surcease from grief filled his 
 mind. Yes, that was the meaning of the temptation : 
 the weird voice through the mist was inviting him to 
 suicide. Oliphant was not a swimmer, and one plunge 
 from that rocky ledge by the cave, where he had held
 
 252 NEWPORT. 
 
 his earlier memorable conversation with Octavia, would 
 have meant, for him, speedy and painless death. Al 
 though naturally religious, he was not formally so, and 
 had no scruple on that account against voluntary death ; 
 but he despised the weak violence of suicide, in a 
 healthy being, both as a cowardly thing and as an 
 unfit interference with natural laws, more shocking 
 than the most hideous result of those laws. All the 
 greater was his horror now, when the desire to end his 
 life began to fasten itself upon him. lie struggled 
 hard with the fearful thought ; but he did not dare 
 stay where it assailed him in such palpable shape. 
 He faced about, and walked swiftly across the rough 
 downs again, this time making for the town ; while the 
 horn, M'hich quavered incessantly up and down upon 
 two hoarse and lamentable tones, hooted after him 
 in evil derision. 
 
 Frequently he paused, or sat down on some knoll or 
 rock, and lost himself in undefined revery, or sheer 
 vacanc} 7 of numbness and desolation. He never knew 
 quite how he passed the day ; but he found that it was 
 near dark when he came along Bellevue Avenue, on 
 the way home. Just _ by Touro Park he suddenly en 
 countered Roger Deering, and was surprised by it 
 because he had not know that his cousin was in New 
 port. They both stopped for a rapid exchange of 
 greetings, but both were' too pre-occupied to notice at 
 the time what recurred to them later. Roger was red- 
 faced, short-haired, restless as usual, but there was 
 something about him that made him look a changed 
 man. And he himself had a curious impression that
 
 LITTLE EFF1E. 253 
 
 Oliphant's hair had grown gray, but discovered that it 
 was only that Oliphaut looked so much older. 
 
 ' ' When did you come ? ' ' asked Oliphant. 
 
 " Only to-day. Little Effie is very ill. I've just 
 been again to look for the doctor." 
 
 "Ah," said Oliphant vaguely. "What is the mat 
 ter?" 
 
 "Diphtheria," said Roger. The reply left no defi 
 nite effect on Oliphant's mind ; and the two men parted 
 nervously, in haste, taking opposite directions. 
 
 Justin and his wife were waiting dinner for their 
 friend ; and, among other blissful little diversions of 
 talk, they chatted about Oliphant. His long absence 
 convinced them that he had made his offer, which they 
 were expecting, to Octavia, and had been successful ; 
 but they allowed themselves some good-natured laugh 
 ter at having, in their own case, got so far ahead of 
 those older lovers. At last, when they heard the 
 click of Oliphant's key in the hall door, Justin hurried 
 out to meet him, but shrank back on seeing how hag 
 gard the widower was. 
 
 "You look ill," Justin said, anxiously. "You have 
 tired yourself out, some way, haven't you? What can 
 we do?" 
 
 Oliphaut laid down his hat, and seemed unable to 
 speak, for a moment. He moved unsteadily. "A 
 glass of wine, please," he presently answered. " I am 
 exhausted have had nothing to eat since morning." 
 
 The wine refreshed him, and he soon joined the 
 young couple, at dinner ; but he was very grave and 
 absent-minded. The only thing of importance that he
 
 254 NEWPORT. 
 
 Baid was, "I fear I shall have to leave you very 
 shortly, Craig. I must go to New York yes, com 
 plications have arisen that make it necessary. I will 
 explain it all, by and by. Nothing to be alarmed at. 
 Meanwhile, you understand, I shall keep every thing 
 going here, just the same, of course ; and it will oblige 
 me if you and Mrs. Craig will keep an eye on it for 
 me." 
 
 He could not inform them definitely when he should 
 leave ; in fact, he had not yet really formed any clear 
 plan. But the events of the following two or three 
 days settled this for him. 
 
 The next morning he was at first uncertain whether 
 he had dreamed of meeting Roger, or had actually seen 
 him ; but as the fact became clear to him, he remem 
 bered that something had been said of Effie's illness : 
 so he went down to the Deerings' small cottage, to 
 make inquiry about it. Great were the astonishment 
 and concern with which he learned that the child was 
 very dangerously attacked, and that the doctor already 
 considered her situation critical. 
 
 " I'm more sorry than I can tell you," said Oliphant 
 to Roger. " But at least it's fortunate that you are 
 here." 
 
 " I was called by telegraph," Roger answered, in an 
 inert, hopeless tone. "But what can I do, now I'm 
 here ? It is these fatal unsanitary conditions that have 
 done the harm ; and as for us, we are helpless at the 
 mercy of the disease, if it has any mercy. Ah, if we 
 had only not come to Newport ! ' ' 
 
 Oliphant started at the reproduction, in those words,
 
 LITTLE EFFIE. 255 
 
 of the thought which was passing through his own mind 
 with regard to himself. 
 
 "Well, old man, let's try to keep up hope," he said, 
 forlornly seeking to throw some cheer into his words, 
 yet knowing that he failed dismally. 
 
 "Yes," said Roger. He looked wanly at his cousin, 
 with an effort to express gratitude by his look. " But 
 somehow, Eugene, I feel pretty sure that I shall never 
 feel those little arms around my neck again." 
 
 Roger moved suddenly towards the window, leaned 
 one arm upon the sash, and bent his head low, as if 
 gazing attentively out of the window. He was really 
 sobbing. 
 
 Oliphant recalled how, not many days before, he had 
 been with Mary Deering and her baby daughter, when 
 Effie was commanded, for some reason, to go out of 
 the room. " What because ?" asked the little toddling 
 girl, beginning to pucker her lips ; and he had laughed 
 at the phrase, which was a frequent one with her ; and 
 the mother, being equally smitten by it, had caught up 
 Effie, cuddled and embraced her, and sent her away 
 with a smile of perfect contentment on her tiny, roseate 
 features. " What because? " He fancied he heard the 
 words at this instant, pronounced in her sweet, waver 
 ing treble, with just a suspicion of innocent protest in 
 it ; and it was strange how they answered to the sad 
 wonderment in himself, at the misery that had befallen 
 him and the awful suspense in which he beheld his 
 cousins placed. But there was no watchful motherly 
 power that could come to the relief of any of them, 
 and dissipate their woes.
 
 256 * NEWPORT. 
 
 "Of course she is conscious," he hazarded, hoping 
 in some way to relieve the father. "She knew you 
 when you arrived, didn't she? " 
 
 Roger roused himself, and spoke firmly, though his 
 eyes were moist: "Oh, yes; she said 'Papa,' once. 
 I believe they are always conscious." 
 
 That word " they," relegating her to a general class, 
 in a region somewhere beyond the reach of human 
 help ; recognizing her as already caught up into the 
 arms of God to be borne away or restored, who 
 could tell? made Oliphant quiver with a new con 
 sciousness of the poor fellow's terrible position. "I 
 do hope, Roger," he said, " if there's any thing I can 
 do, you'll let me know. Mary mustn't wear herself 
 out." 
 
 " She will never leave Effie, Eugene," Roger replied. 
 " Did I tell you she was up all night? Never mind, 
 my dear fellow. It is hard for you that you can't help 
 us, I know; but I will send for you if if there is 
 any thing of importance." 
 
 Oliphant could not trust himself to stay any longer, 
 then. "I shall come again this evening," he said 
 hurriedly, and took his departure. 
 
 The voiceless contest went on at the little cottage all 
 day. Even Clarence was subdued ; he crept unobtru 
 sively about the house, and did not know what to make 
 of the situation, except that the world began to appear 
 to him a very different sort of place from what he had 
 supposed it. During the afternoon hours the usual 
 crush and sparkle of the driving throng filled Bellevue 
 Avenue. In the quiet of this interior, Mary could
 
 LITTLE EFFIE. 257 
 
 hear the genteel rumble and patter of the horses and 
 carriages not far away : the parade of Anglo-maniacs 
 and distorted grooms, of beaming beauties and inso 
 lently handsome young men and high-stepping steeds, 
 was in full progress. But to the anxious mother the 
 thought of that spectacle had lost all its glamour ; the 
 whole concourse, indeed, assumed to her fancy the like 
 ness of a grotesquely pompous funeral train. 
 
 Night came, and still there was the same scene in 
 the room where Effie lay : a childish form prostrate 
 on the bed, feverish and suffering, with golden hair 
 spreading at random over the pillow the face already 
 grown singularly mature with a knowledge of the awful 
 possibilities of pain ; and three figures the mother, 
 the father, and the nurse that went and came often, 
 with noiseless, imperceptible movements, ministering 
 continually, and uttering words of soothing that could 
 not be replied to. For the little thing was now scarcely 
 able to speak, and had all that she could do to breathe. 
 
 Atlee had called during the day, and had been 
 informed, at the door, of the illness. Now he came 
 again, early in the evening ; but he saw no one except 
 ing the servant, who reported his coming, after he had 
 gone, to Roger and Mary, just then resting for a few 
 minutes in another room. On the mention of his name, 
 husband and wife gazed silently at each other, and 
 significantly. As yet, no discussion had been raised 
 between them regarding Atlee, and of course they said 
 not a word at this juncture ; but Mary Deering sent up 
 a brief, disconnected, unspoken prayer to heaven, for 
 pardon of the folly which seemed now almost too sense-
 
 258 NEWPORT. 
 
 less to require pardon. She understood so little of 
 Providence that she considered her present trial as a 
 direct personal punishment for the apparent wrong she 
 had done Roger ; and she imagined that a passionate 
 inward avowal of her misdemeanor might be answered 
 by the saving of her child. 
 
 Oliphant and Justin arrived later ; and the former 
 settled himself to wait below throughout the night, in 
 case he should be needed. Hour after hour, in the 
 room above, the scene continued unchanged, except 
 that for a long time the doctor was there, observing, 
 thinking, issuing a few directions, and at last going 
 away without imparting any hope. A medicinal pastil 
 was burning slowly on a little side-table ; the air of 
 the room could not be freed from a certain deadly 
 closeness ; the three figures continued at their post, 
 with a still, concentrated energy, a peculiar exaltation 
 of devoted ness, as if they were athletes engaged in a 
 struggle too intense to admit of words. Effie remained 
 nearly motionless ; the dry crepitation of her tortured 
 breath emphasized the hush of the room, by its regular 
 iteration. And hour after hour the plain little interior 
 grew more sacred as a centre of parental love, while 
 the man and woman to whom that imperilled life was 
 dear watched its fading, and inhaled the poisonous 
 atmosphere around them without fear of the danger 
 that it threatened to them. 
 
 Once, when Effie was to take a prescribed potion, 
 she roused herself, and looked around as if searching 
 for aid, or for some explanation of the awful combat 
 in which she was forced to engage. The voice which
 
 LITTLE EFFIE. 259 
 
 had been so long nearly stifled found its way through 
 the choking barrier in her throat, and she gasped pain 
 fully, " What because?" 
 
 At length, near the morning, she rose on her couch, 
 and called clearl}' for her mother. The final moment 
 had come, though Roger and Mary, misled by the last 
 bright flicker of the vital flame, fancied at first that 
 she was reviving. Suddenly, the signs of dissolution 
 set in. The child continued sitting up, and the father 
 and mother each held one of her hands, looking anx 
 iously towards her, striving still to give her some com 
 fort. She turned her eyes, large and bright with a 
 new intelligence, first to one and then to the other : 
 but presently their lustre began to dim ; her strength 
 waned ; there passed from her fingers to each of the 
 hands in which they rested three quick, fluttering pulsa 
 tions, that did not stir the surface, but seemed to thrill 
 electricall}' from the interior sources of the little life. 
 The father and mother instinctively met one another's 
 gaze, and without a syllable, recognized that they had 
 received the last greeting of a spirit about to depart. 
 In the midst of their agony, this mysterious communi 
 cation gave them one instant of supreme perception 
 a perception that afterwards lived in their memories 
 tinged by emotion which, paradoxically, was like a holy 
 
 joy. 
 
 Then Effie sank back, breathless, quiet; calm, calm 
 f6rever ; rigid in lifelessness, yet lying as light upon 
 the bed as a drift of newly fallen snow. The white 
 truce upon her face proclaimed surrender and peace. 
 
 All night the wind had been sweeping to and fro,
 
 260 NEWPORT. 
 
 bringing together the elements of a storm. "When 
 Roger, in the weird, gray gleam of the dawn-light, 
 slipped noiseless as a ghost into the narrow parlor 
 where Oliphant waited, the storm burst in a torrent of 
 rain ; and the trees before the house, bending in the 
 wind, swayed their dark-draped branches with gestures 
 of grief and abandonment.
 
 XVII. 
 
 EEPENTANCE. 
 
 that the fatal blow had fallen upon Roger 
 and Mary, which their friends would so gladly 
 have strained every faculty to prevent, Oliphant and 
 Justin found that they could help. It is the sad privi 
 lege of human beings, at such times, to come when all 
 is over and prove their own essential uselessness by 
 performing every possible act of practical and tender 
 aid in those details that cover up the death in our 
 hearts, as dust is made to cover the actual dead. Yet 
 in seasons of the greatest grief at a personal loss, the 
 things we most prize are the seemingly useless ones 
 sweet, ineffectual flowers, a few helpless words, express 
 ing the sorrow of those whom we love, that they can 
 not do any thing for us. 
 
 Vivian was quick in seconding her husband and his 
 friend to give what assistance they could ; for, although 
 she had hardly known Mary Deering, her loyalty to the 
 friendship of Oliphant brought into action her natural 
 fervor of sympathy as a young wife for the stricken 
 mother. Josephine, too, carried flowers to the door 
 of the house of mourning. Oliphant was there at the 
 time, and when the' box was opened an impulse led 
 
 261
 
 262 NEWPORT. 
 
 him to hurry to the porch, whence he saw Josephine 
 herself moving quickly away down the shaded street. 
 It touched him that she had chosen to bring the flowers 
 in her own hands. 
 
 But nothing was heard frQm Octavia ; she made no 
 sign ; so far as Oliphant could tell, she might have 
 been totally in ignorance of the catastrophe. 
 
 Yet how could she do any thing? She had thrown 
 Oliphant aside in such a way as to preclude every rela 
 tion, henceforth, except that of the most distant rec 
 ognition. She had had but very slight intercourse with 
 Mary Deering, and it would have been mainly because 
 of her constant association with Oliphant during the 
 season that she would have made, if at all, any demon 
 stration of condolence. Therefore, she was entirely 
 debarred from showing her sympathy. She felt a great 
 sympathy, nevertheless. I do not care to analyze the 
 sources of it, because injustice would certainly be done 
 in trying to formulate a state of mind requiring so 
 delicate a balance to weigh it, as hers did. But I am 
 sure that genuine womanly compassion and kindness 
 were uppermost- in her mood. In presence of this 
 tragedy, too, a sharp light fell upon her recent conduct, 
 which brought out with terrifying distinctness its ugli 
 ness and cruelty. She began to be remorseful. 
 
 She did form a plan of sending some flowers to Mrs. 
 Deering, anonymously ; but the conclusion soon fol 
 lowed that such a course would be cowardly, and merely 
 an attempt to narcotize her conscience. Then, hear 
 ing that funeral services were to be held over poor little 
 Effie at old Trinity, she resolved to go thither and
 
 REPENTANCE. 263 
 
 attend them. But from this as well she was restrained, 
 by a conviction that she had no right to do it. " Why 
 should I take advantage of this dreadful sorrow," she 
 said to herself , "under the pretence that a generous 
 feeling of pit}* makes ine set aside my personal affair 
 with Mr. Oliphant?" 
 
 And so she sat wretchedly alone at High Lawn, un 
 able to take any step, and suddenly deserted by those 
 who had lately been nearest to her. Josephine did not 
 approach her, and Terry Thorburn had not come to see 
 her, for some time past. It did not need these things, 
 however, to give her a true comprehension of her piti 
 ful error. Just then when she sprang forward and 
 asked Oliphant to forgive her, before he left the house, 
 the first seed of repentance had sprung up in her mind, 
 stirred to life though it was by a false impulse of vanity 
 and conceit. But repentance had multiplied in her, 
 since, from a htmdred other germs ; and before she 
 heard of Effie's illness at all, her heart was aching for 
 Oliphant. She was disgusted with herself ; she utterly 
 repudiated what she had done at the prompting of a 
 vindictive whim, that now appeared hardly less than 
 insane. 
 
 Tragic events often come in such a way that, while 
 they seem to bring about certain moral changes in us, 
 and we therefore refer such changes to what we call a 
 mere ; ' accident," those events are really only the 
 afterclap, or the tangible symbol, of what has already 
 taken place in our minds. 
 
 Of course I do not know why Effie died just at that 
 time ; but I am perfectly clear that Octavia's repent-
 
 264 NEWPORT. 
 
 ance, which was emphasized and stimulated by this 
 disaster, was in no manner a consequence of it. 
 
 The day came for the services at Trinity. The storm 
 had cleared ; there was an exultant, cool vigor in the 
 air. Very few people, naturally, attended ; but it had 
 been an ardent wish of Justin's that, if any obsequy 
 were held in Newport, it should be where he could offer 
 his farewell to the lost spirit of the child, in music. 
 And he played the Raindrop Prelude, which stole gen 
 tly through the church with a sweet, dewy freshness 
 and simplicity, yet fell plaintively upon the listeners, 
 and made them think of gentle tears shed in a loving 
 resignation. Oliphant remembered too well how he 
 had heard that melody before ; and as it had brought 
 to his mind then the refreshing showers of summer, it 
 now suggested the sad drops of autumn, that patter 
 down a requiem for dead hope. 
 
 The coffin was carried out. Oliphant waited for a 
 brief space, and as he made his way to the street he 
 met Josephine Hobart. " Mr. Oliphant," she said, " I 
 want to say to you though it may seem unusual, 
 coming from a stranger almost, as I am how much 
 I feel for your cousins. Their toss has gone to my 
 heart more than any thing that has happened for many 
 a day. It must have been a great blow to you, too." 
 
 "Yes," he answered; "I don't know why, but it 
 is to me like losing a child of my own." 
 
 I suppose she must have read the secret of his ther 
 loss. Her large, soft, unrevealing eyes were filled with 
 a stilly, comprehensive look of fellowship. 
 
 "You are going with them to New York?" she 
 asked.
 
 REPENTANCE. 265 
 
 "Oh, yes." 
 
 " And sha'n't we see you in Newport again? " 
 
 Oliphaut's face grew vague and listless, for an 
 instant. "I'm afraid not: I don't believe I shall 
 come back," lie said. 
 
 He had not admitted this to the Craigs. 
 
 Before he left her he thanked her for her gracious 
 act of bringing the flowers. They shook hands, and 
 the unconscious trembling of her touch roused in him, 
 transiently, an undefined wonder at the stress of her 
 sensibility, which he attributed wholly to the death of 
 Effie Deering. But as he went to join his cousins at 
 the New York boat, his mind was on Octavia and the 
 dreariness of the fact that .she was not with him, shar 
 ing the piteous solemnity of this hour, in which even 
 the glad young love of Justin and Vivian had partici 
 pated. 
 
 Oliphant's care had smoothed the way for Roger and 
 Mary, by putting out of sight the rougher details of 
 the journey ; but the night-vo3"age to New York was a 
 melancholy one for them all. They glided away, how 
 ever, and were lost in a moment to the gay, pleasure- 
 seeking little world in which they had lately been 
 active. Octavia heard the great boat go by, with its 
 throbbing hum of strong paddle-wheels, and knew 
 that it was taking her honest, defeated lover aw a}* 
 from her perhaps forever ; but it was too late to 
 recall him, then. In a few minutes the sound of the 
 departing steamer ceased to vibrate upon her ear : she 
 was left to the desert silence which she had made for 
 herself.
 
 266 ' NEWPORT. 
 
 Change and catastrophe had overtaken several of the 
 people about whom this story centres ; but it must not 
 be supposed for an instant that such disturbances of 
 mere feeling or fortune affected in the least the dazzling 
 monotony of festal existence in the society around 
 them. It is true, Dana Sweetser seized upon the un 
 timely demise of the Deerings' child as a potent case 
 in point to fortify his position regarding drainage. 
 Sundry physicians insisted that the fatal malady was 
 directly due to the absence of good hygienic condi 
 tions. Sundry others, supported by a large number 
 of people who had not yet died, disputed the proposi 
 tion. Every one agreed that it was very sad for the 
 Deerings ; and industrious correspondents, who habitu 
 ally wrote and telegraphed catalogues of visitors and 
 distinguished dining-room tattle to leading journals, 
 dropped a sentence or two of rose-water pathos on 
 Effie's bier. All the proprieties were observed, and 
 nothing was done to better the drainage ; so Dana 
 Sweetser fell back temporarily on the Alaska and 
 British Columbia Inlet Excavation. 
 
 One result of the discussion was that the Deerings 
 were elevated to a social importance, in the way of 
 talk, which they themselves had never enjoyed. They 
 were utilized with soup, at dinners, as an introductory 
 topic, or as a relish with the hors d'ceuvres; by des 
 sert, however, they ceased to be mentioned ; and in 
 two or three days their misfortune was dismissed 
 entirely. 
 
 But Octavia could not so easily get rid of the things 
 which had lately happened. Her tune was in demand
 
 REPENTANCE. 267 
 
 for many engagements, day and night, and she moved 
 in the thickest of the whirl. Oliphant being out of the 
 way, moreover, various discouraged gentlemen, who 
 had stood at a distance while he was present, began 
 to crowd round her again. Perry Thorburn likewise 
 suddenly returned to her society, and asked her to 
 drive with him, every day, although he hardly spoke 
 to her of Josephine, atfy longer. Notwithstanding all 
 this, and the sparkling exterior which she maintained, 
 her inward distress deepened. When alone, she was 
 moody and dispirited ; no employment sufficed to calm 
 her restless thoughts ; she spent hours reviewing her 
 association with Oliphant and her conduct towards him. 
 At last she paid her intended visit to Vivian, which she 
 had been deferring out of dread at meeting the keen 
 eyes of Oliphant's friends, who would be so quick to 
 detect the change that had come over her, and her 
 responsibility for the change in him. At first she tried 
 to discover when Oliphant was likely to return ; but 
 before she left Vivian, she had made a partial confes 
 sion of the true state of things, though with important 
 reservations. She admitted that Oliphant had proposed 
 for her hand, and that she had sent him away without 
 hope ; but she did not tell of the poisonous thrusts 
 she had given him. 
 
 " I'm so sorry," said Vivian, looking up from a little 
 drawing she was making for Justin "so sorry for 
 poor Mr. Oliphant;" then she added, her bine eyes 
 scanning the widow's face for an instant with com 
 plete but kindly insight, " and sorry for you, too, 
 Octavia."
 
 268 NEWPORT. 
 
 "For me?" Octavia blushed faintly, and moved 
 her head so that only the dainty profile of her face 
 came within Vivian's range. 
 
 "Yes," answered the bride. "I can't help saying 
 so. He is such a sterling man. Of course I don't 
 attempt to judge for you, but I think you ma}' regret, 
 some time, what }"ou have done." 
 
 "But do you approve of second marriages?" Oc 
 tavia rejoined, quickl}-. " Would you be willing "... 
 
 "No," said Vivian, promptty. "At least," she 
 continued, putting another touch to her sketch, "I 
 can't conceive of myself in that position, and some 
 how I have a feeling against it. But then, true love 
 is too great a thing to be bounded by my feeling, I 
 am sure. It comes in so many different ways . . . 
 And when it comes, one is in the hands of a higher 
 power, which one ought to be very careful about tri 
 fling with." 
 
 Nothing more was said, for a few moments. After 
 wards, they passed to the alienation of Vivian's 
 mother and brother, which still continued. But while 
 Octavia stood by the piano, making a final remark or 
 two, Vivian casually resumed the subject of Oliphant. 
 " It troubles me," she said, " that Mr. Oliphant doesn't 
 come back. Let's see: it's three no, four days, 
 now. Justin wrote him a long letter, but we've only 
 received one little note from him. He's staying at the 
 Van Voort House, and I'm afraid he's too comfortable 
 to be in a hurry about coming here again." 
 
 She laughed lightly, with an air of directing a sar 
 casm against her own housekeeping ; but Octavia
 
 REPENTANCE. 269 
 
 Understood her. They kissed each other, as they 
 parted. 
 
 Octavia went home and spent much of the day com 
 posing a short letter to Oliphant : 
 
 MY DEAR MR. OLIPHANT, I shall not wonder if you are 
 surprised at hearing from me, for I feel that there would be 
 no propriety in my writing to you, after what has happened 
 between us nor should I wish to do so were it not fora 
 single thing which no one but myself can tell you. And even 
 I have discovered it only since you went from here. 
 
 That is, that I now see how wrong I was in my treatment 
 of you, and how much injustice I did you by some of the things 
 I said the last time we met. What led me on, it is hard to say 
 exactly. I am not sure that I myself understand; but even if 
 it were possible for me to unravel it all, perhaps you would 
 rather spare me the mortification, if you had the choice. 
 
 You have been called away; it seems to be uncertain whether 
 you will return here, and if you did so we should not be likely 
 to meet, I suppose. This is why I consider it best to acknowl 
 edge my fault by writing. I do not ask you, Mr. Oliphant, to 
 forgive as I selfishly did, that day but only to pardon me 
 for not seeing sooner what I was drifting to, and preventing 
 it. I cannot hope that you will think of me otherwise than 
 with censure, or that I can ever recover the friendship I have 
 sacrificed; but it is my duty to admit my mistake, and to as 
 sure you of my lasting respect. 
 
 Sincerely, 
 
 OCTAVIA GIFFORD. 
 
 After despatching this, she was more at peace with 
 herself. Ever since Oliphant' s departure, she had 
 been undergoing one very peculiar form of nervous 
 disturbance. The rotary beat of the steamer's wheels, 
 with the transient pause and renewed throb as the 
 engmes turned them, kept sounding in her ears at the
 
 270 NEWPORT. 
 
 most inopportune times ; and every morning, early, 
 just before dawn woke the sky, sleep deserted her, and 
 she lay waiting intently for the same sound to assure 
 her that the boat from New York was returning. 
 
 At first it would steal to her from a distance, through 
 the dusk, like a deep, unsteady breathing ; gradually, 
 and then more swiftly, it became defined as a regular 
 and mighty pulsation, coming nearer, increasing in 
 volume : it was what one might imagine to be the voice 
 of a vast shadow. Finally, it developed into a sys 
 tematic concussion, the nature of which was unmistak 
 able. Octavia would rise, go to the window, and watch 
 the vague white shape as it rounded Fort Adams like 
 a floating town, with mysterious colored lights strung 
 up at stem and stern and at various other points, or 
 shining from the windows; There was something spec 
 tral about it, and the palpitation of the huge paddle- 
 wheels was like a shudder. Involuntarily Octavia 
 would shudder, too, and creep back to bed. 
 
 But to-night, since her letter had gone, she did not 
 shudder when she woke and saw the boat. A soft 
 warmth enveloped her heart, as if that spectral shape 
 had been the forerunner of some great happiness des 
 tined to come to her in its wake.
 
 xvin. 
 
 THE NIGHT-VOYAGE. 
 
 "\ VTIIEN Oliphant arrived at New York, the wide- 
 V V spread rush and murmur of the city's activity 
 repeated, in its different way, the buffeting and gen 
 eral troubled noise of the waves at Newport. He had 
 escaped their haunting effect, only to find himself 
 standing on the edge of a second, but human, ocean ; 
 and a leap into one seemed much the same as a leap 
 into the other. lie did not know where he was going, 
 what he was to do henceforth : he had no purpose. 
 To merge himself in this chafing tide of humanity, not 
 knowing what was to be his future, struck him as little 
 more than another mode of suicide, similar in its re 
 sult to that of losing himself in the currents of the 
 sea. 
 
 Putting up at the Van Voort House, he accompanied 
 Roger and Mary in the final ceremony of laying Effie 
 in Woodlawn Cemetery ; then he went to his hotel and 
 did nothing. The next day he made inquiries regard 
 ing a passage to Europe, and secured the refusal of 
 a berth. Immediately afterwards he began planning a 
 trip to California. In short, he was aimless. I idou't 
 know that it was his fault, especially. The present 
 
 271
 
 272 NEWPORT. 
 
 century, which overflows with the most pronounced 
 aims of all sorts, probably harbors more people who 
 find it impossible to have an aim than any century 
 heretofore. 
 
 On the third day, he received a letter from Justin, 
 detailing some roundabout approaches which had been 
 made by Mrs. Chauncey Ware towards a reconcilia 
 tion, together with incidental items of Newport news. 
 Mrs. Ware had allowed semi-official information to be 
 conveyed to Justin that she would recognize his mar 
 riage with Vivian if he would abandon the musical 
 profession, and enter a certain banking-house where 
 she could procure him a reasonably good position, with 
 prospects of a partnership. Justin had said in reply, 
 somewhat truculently, that his marriage was recog 
 nized by the church, and to some extent by mankind, 
 and that he did not think he would make a very good 
 banker ; but that, if his mother-in-law would treat him 
 with the courtesy he was prepared to offer her, he 
 thought they could agree admirably. It appeared, 
 furthermore, that Count Fitz-Stuart was believed to 
 have ratified a treaty with Mrs. Farley Blazer, by 
 which he consented to cede himself to Miss Ruth, in 
 consideration of sundry state obligations, which the 
 count had incurred, being assumed by Mrs. Blazer ; 
 and that the engagement of Lord Hawkstane and Miss 
 Tilly Blazer had been announced. 
 
 With regard to the latter piece of gossip, Oliphant, 
 who read Justin's communication in Roger's office on 
 Exchange Place, observed, " The milk and water have 
 coalesced at last. I don't know which dilutes the 
 other the most."
 
 THE NIGHT-VOYAGE. 273 
 
 Justin's allusions to his own affairs, however, set 
 Oliphant thinking as to how he could help the boy ; 
 more particularly since Justin had remarked in his 
 letter, ' ' I have entered on a harder struggle than I 
 foresaw, but I am not afraid." 
 
 He went to his law}'er, the very next morning. 
 "I'm about to go away from New York," he said, 
 " for an extended absence. There are some little 
 things that ought to be arranged ; and I think, to pro 
 vide against accidents, I'd better make a new will." 
 
 The making of the will did not take, long, but in it 
 there was a provision for Justin. Oliphant did not 
 expect that to be of any immediate use ; but he 
 wanted to lead up to an arrangement which he now 
 proceeded to effect, whereby certain regular pa} 7 ments 
 were to be made to Justin, in such a way that he could 
 not avoid accepting them, ostensibly for aiding the 
 continuance of his musical studies. 
 
 He also inquired of the lawyer about Raish, whose 
 case he found had been set to come up before Judge 
 Hixon, in the course of a mouth or so. " There won't 
 be the ghost of a chance for him, I hear," said the 
 legal adviser. ' ' Great pity not so much on his ac 
 count, but for his excellent family connections. His 
 relatives will feel it severely." 
 
 On returning to the Van Voort, he made up his 
 mind to take the California trip : somehow, though he 
 believed that he never should think of Octavia again 
 withoi t a repulsion that fell little short of animosity, 
 he could not bring himself to leave the country while 
 bhe was in it. And having come to this conclusion, he
 
 274 NEW POET. 
 
 wrote and posted a letter to Justin, announcing his 
 speedy departure ; giving him also a general sketch of 
 what had happened at his lact visit to High Lawn. 
 
 The next afternoon's mail-delivery brought him the 
 few lines that had been wrung from Octavia, the day 
 before, by her silent self-reproaches. If this missive 
 had come a few hours later, it would have failed to 
 reach him, because, growing restless, he had deter 
 mined to start that night for California. As it was, 
 he read it, folded it up, and put it in his pocket with a 
 slight sigh, and a recurrent pang of the first wretched 
 ness which Octavia's refusal had inflicted upon him. 
 He took it as one more evidence of the irony which 
 had controlled his whole career, that she should not 
 have come to her present state of mind until she had 
 wrought irreparable havoc with him. Of what use 
 was her repentance to him, now? 
 
 Before beginning to pack he read the letter a second 
 time, preparatory to burning it. But, as he read, a 
 sudden and wild thrill of renewed hope coursed through 
 him. Octavia's words developed, as he thought, a 
 double meaning. "I was wrong in my treatment of 
 you. . . . Uncertain whether you will return here, and 
 even if you did so we should not be likely to meet, I 
 suppose." . . . Might not these phrases be a round 
 about way of saying that she had erred in not accept 
 ing his love, and wished that he would return and see 
 her? He could not reason about it ; he only felt ; and 
 his recent conviction that Octavia had inspired in him 
 a resentment amounting to hatred did not seem worth 
 even passing notice. California became an impossibil-
 
 THE NIGHT-VOYAGE. 275 
 
 ity ; vanished, in short. It was imperative to get to 
 Newport. Too late for the afternoon train, he tele 
 phoned for a state-room on the boat. Every room was 
 engaged ; but this only stimulated his eagerness to go. 
 There was not much time remaining, and hastily pack 
 ing up his things he took a coupe", drove down through 
 the city to the wharves, and went on board the steamer, 
 with the intention of staying up all night, or dozing in 
 the big saloon. 
 
 Before the start, he met, in the crowd of many hun 
 dreds that was drifting about the loudly upholstered 
 cabins, clogging the stairs, and packing itself away on 
 the open decks, Perry Thorburn. " How did you come 
 here ? ' ' exclaimed Oliphant. 
 
 "I had to run on for a day, on business," Perry 
 explained, with a smile which only half concealed some 
 unpleasant thought. He had reall}* come to look into 
 his affairs, and to perfect a scheme for making up as 
 well as he could the losses his father had inflicted upon 
 him. "The old man's on board, too. Got a room, 
 have you?" he continued. "Awfully crowded to 
 night." 
 
 " No," said Oliphant ; "but I'm in a hurry. I was 
 just thinking I might have taken the late train and got 
 off at Providence. The boat's cooler, though." 
 
 Perry offered him one of the berths in his stateroom, 
 as he and his father were separate ; but Oliphant de 
 clined it, rather liking the idea of being alone and of 
 passing a sleepless night in revery upon his revived 
 hopes. 
 
 Every thing seemed strangely beautiful and joyous
 
 276 NEWPORT. 
 
 to him. As the boat swept around the Battery wita 
 easy, omnipotent motion, and steamed up East River, 
 passing miles and miles of masonry on either side, lined 
 by clustering ships whose spars and rigging rose in 
 slim black lines against the background of dense brick 
 or light sky, like the characters of some unknown lan 
 guage inscribed there, the scene stirred and elated him 
 by its might of human interest. It soothed him, too. 
 He knew what misery and squalor swarmed upon those 
 river banks, and what anxious hearts beat in myriads 
 behind the long front of populous buildings ; but he 
 felt that there was a dignity in the human struggle, 
 which was intensified by the desperation of it, and 
 redeemed much of the pettiness and evil. He had had 
 his struggles, also, and could sympathize ; besides, his 
 present happiness filled him with a livelier sense of 
 human brotherhood than he had felt for a long time. 
 
 The mellow light of a peaceful sunset that was ap 
 proaching suffused with delicious radiance the smoky 
 heaps of dull-toned architecture, and glimmered softly 
 on the graj'-green waters through which the steamer 
 was ploughing. The city melted away like a dream ; the 
 Long Island shore crept off towards the outer ocean ; 
 the green banks of Connecticut, with rounded promon 
 tories and dim inlets, rolled by. The number of passen 
 gers on the decks diminished ; the brass band, which 
 had been blaring with a specious brilliancy at the after 
 end of the saloon, ceased playing: Oliphaut began to 
 enjoy comparative solitude. Perry joined him for a 
 while, and they went to supper with old Thorburn. 
 Afterwards Oliphant and Perry smoked a cigar or two
 
 THE NIGHT -VOYAGE. 277 
 
 on the after-deck. Finally the widower was left en 
 tirely alone, and went forward to the upper deck at 
 the bow. 
 
 It was night now. The stars were shining in great 
 multitude and beauty ; the golden points or crimson 
 spots like fading coals, that marked the position of 
 lighthouses on either coast, came out at irregular inter 
 vals, registering the progress of the voyage, then sank 
 back into invisibility. The great steamer proceeded 
 on her way with throb and beat and shudder ; with 
 her four decks orlop, cabin, hurricane, main ; with her 
 double cordon of state-rooms arranged like a system 
 of cells; with her masses of costly merchandise, her 
 heterogeneous crowd of costly passengers ', her colored 
 lanterns that glowed above her like luminous insects of 
 large size, hovering in the air and accompanying her 
 movement. There was no stir of life upon her at this 
 hour ; and Oliphant, sitting close to the cabin wall, 
 well wrapped up against the night chill, looked ahead 
 over the dimly gleaming Sound, and meditated. He 
 was very confident of his coming happiness ; all his 
 doubts were over ; there was a bounding exultation in 
 his blood. The frustrations and disappointments that 
 had beset him all his life seemed to be at an end ; he 
 was sure that he was about to cuter upon that period 
 of contentment and enjoyable activity for the hope of 
 which we all live. How absurd his passing thought 
 of suicide, a few days before, must have seemed to 
 him then ! 
 
 The steamer went on : the broad, foamy wake be- 
 nind her seemed to weave itself into a record of the
 
 278 NEWPORT. 
 
 forsaken past, and every pulsation of the engines was 
 to Oliphant like the expectant beat of his own heart, 
 moving towards a bright future. A thin shrouding of 
 mist was drawn over the stars, after awhile, which was 
 occasionally dispersed, and then returned to dim the 
 prospect. The steamer began blowing signals now and 
 then from her pipes. Presently, signals in a similar 
 tone were heard somewhere in advance ; a vessel of the 
 same line was approaching. The two damp and scream 
 ing voices seemed to establish an understanding, as the 
 red and gold and green of the other boat's lights came 
 into sight through the fog, like the gleaming eyes of a 
 monster. She was steering to the right. Nevertheless, 
 suddenly she changed her direction, swerved quickly 
 around, and came swiftly towards the New York boat, 
 head on. 
 
 There was a quick, excited ringing of engine-room 
 bells ; there was more blowing of whistles ; but nothing 
 served to avert the catastrophe. The Newport boat 
 loomed up clearly in the fog, for an instant ; and then 
 there came a violent shock, followed by the ripping and 
 tearing, and groaning of rended wood. The New York 
 boat's engines stopped ; she was fatally wounded by 
 the other, and floated helpless on the tide. 
 
 At once an indescribable tumult arose among her 
 passengers. The saloon lights went out. Innumera 
 ble people burst forth from the state-rooms like resur 
 rected bodies and ran madly hither and thither in their 
 white garments, silent or with loud shrieks. The rush 
 of scalding steam, escaping from the engine-room with 
 a deep roar of release, partially muffled these cowardly
 
 THE NIGHT -7VYAGE. 279 
 
 erica, and strangled many of the flying figures; but 
 the noise and tumult on board were strangely in con 
 trast with the silence of the night that surrounded and 
 shut in all this trouble like a vast and stilly tomb. 
 
 A few found life-preservers ; others seized upon 
 chairs, or doors, which they or some one else had 
 wrenched off, no one knows how ; and many who could 
 swim leaped overboard without any thing to aid them ia 
 floating. Every thing that occurred, all the things that 
 wcro done, occupied so short a space of time that the 
 results did not seem to proceed from any conscious 
 action. Countless heads of people, swimming, strug 
 gling, or drowning, were sprinkled in black dots on the 
 water. 
 
 The steamer had lurched somewhat, but did not ap 
 pear to be sinking. Immediately upon the collision, 
 Oliphant had clambered up to the topmost deck, and 
 had gone aft that way. Perry Thorburu, who, in the 
 midst of a frantic, pushing throng on the open canopied 
 deck just below, was looking vainly for his father, saw 
 Oliphant leaning down and peering over from above. 
 He shouted to him and pointed towards the water, and 
 Oliphant nodded. Still, some minutes elapsed before 
 he leaped : with many others who could not swim, he 
 preferred to take the last chances on the doomed vessel. 
 In a minute or two, however, after Perry had thrown 
 himself from the rail, a twisted lance of flame burst 
 from the boat's side : fire had broken out on board. 
 
 Perry was a good swimmer, and had struck out 
 towards the other steamer, which, after recoiling from 
 the shock, had sheered off, and was now getting out
 
 280 NEWPORT. 
 
 boats. But he paused very soon, treading water and 
 turning to look again for his father. A quantity of 
 broken timbers, boxes, and other buo}-ant objects were 
 already drifting about in the water, and he found it 
 advisable to get hold of one of these and rest a while. 
 "When the fire leaped forth, he pushed still nearer the 
 wreck. The flames increased, and lit up the broad, 
 liquid surface around him : it was then that he saw the 
 bulk}* form of his father sliding down a rope, which he 
 had evidently tied to a post and flung into the water. 
 Perry began making his way in that direction. Old 
 Thorburn had not much skill in swimming, but he suc 
 ceeded in getting a. little way out. He kept casting 
 about for some artificial aid. Near him was a woman, 
 with a small child in her arms, who, almost by a mar 
 vel, had got hold of a long bench, and was sustaining 
 herself by it. Thorburn came up with her and caught 
 at the wood, apparently much fatigued. The bench 
 was not large enough to keep them both up : the woman 
 expostulated. 
 
 Thorburn was wild with the danger of his situation. 
 There was to him, no doubt, something unsurpassably 
 outrageous in the idea that he, the owner of the steam 
 er, with all his wealth, his power in Wall Street and 
 among the railroads, his vast plans and teeming re 
 sources, should not only sustain an actual heavy finan 
 cial loss b} T the accident, but should be put in peril of 
 his life, struggling there in the salt tide like a com 
 mon individual of the general public, or as if he were 
 of no more account than a drowning rat. Small won 
 der if his heavy mouth grew fierce and his indignant 
 eyes more belligerent than usual.
 
 THE NIGHT -VOYAGE. 281 
 
 He began to pound the woman's hands unmercifully, 
 in order to make her loose her hold. 
 
 Perry, who was still a good distance away, shouted 
 to his father, sharply : " Don't do that, dad ! Stop, I 
 say ! I'm coming." At the same time he was exert 
 ing every muscle to propel himself and his piece of 
 flotsam to the spot. 
 
 It was virtual murder that was being attempted 
 before his eyes, and the person who sought to destroy 
 another's life was his own father ! This Perry per 
 ceived clearly ; and the sight of the deed and the 
 thought of its awful significance were more abhorrent 
 to him than any danger of engulfment and drowning 
 that threatened himself. "Words spoken by a man in 
 the water are necessarily somewhat gasping and un 
 certain in utterance ; and whether it was from this 
 cause, or the plashing of the waves around him, or 
 the increasing hum of the flames on the boat, or the 
 conflict of cries from other throats, old Thorburn did 
 not seem to hear his son's appeal. He continued to 
 beat the helpless woman, encumbered by her child, and 
 to tear her hands away from her accidental raft. 
 
 So unequal a contest could not last long. It was 
 apparently but a few seconds before the unknown 
 woman juelded, and dropped away from the frail sup 
 port. But at that supreme juncture, with the fate 
 of suffocation and death closing upon her, the heart of 
 the mother was unselfish : it gave what might prove to 
 be its final beating, its last impulse, to an effort en 
 behalf of her stilt more helpless baby, who, benumbed 
 by the unwonted situation, was not even conscious of
 
 282 NEWPORT. 
 
 the deadly peril. She' lifted her child into the air as 
 high as she could with one arm, while with the other 
 she vaguely and instinctively sought to delay her 
 sinking. 
 
 Just then Perry, who was drawing nearer, saw 
 another dark mass approaching her, only a few feet 
 away. It was a man, clinging to a broken timber. 
 The man signalled the woman with a cry: "Here!" 
 She heard him, and with a last desperate turn and 
 bewildered floundering through the thick water she 
 succeeded in grasping the means of rescue that he 
 offered. That, also, was very slight ; insufficient for 
 the floating of two persons. But the man who had 
 called to her scarcely waited to test it before he aban 
 doned it entirely. 
 
 For an instant he lifted his face heavenward, as if 
 gazing at the stars, which now beamed mildly down 
 upon the fearful and glaring spectacle of the steamer 
 in conflagration and her scattered victims ; for the 
 scurrying mists had disappeared. Ay, thus he fronted 
 those stars, which Count Fitz-Stuart had wearily dis 
 missed as being " so old," and Raish had adopted as 
 figuring the glowing butts of cigars he had smoked. 
 Then he cast himself off, and disappeared beneath the 
 low-crested waves. 
 
 While the face was turned upward, however, the 
 broadening wall of fire from the steamer's side had 
 shed upon it a vivid illumination, and Perry had been 
 able to recognize the man. 
 
 It was Oliphant. 
 
 " Oliphant, old boy!" he screamed with hoarse 
 desperation. "Wait ! Where are you? "
 
 THE NIGHT-VOYAGE. 283 
 
 Where? Where indeed? no answer came, to Perry's 
 shout. It was impossible to determine at the moment 
 whether Oliphant rose again, or not ; for, despite the 
 ghastly distinctness of the scene, every thing that 
 happened was rapid, confused, bewildering and almost 
 unreal. The surface of the Sound seemed to have 
 grown smoother, as if subdued by a terror of what 
 was taking place. Perry swam close to the stranger 
 woman, and began assisting her. Boats had begun to 
 pick up some of the survivors. He could not bear 
 to approach or even look at his murderous old father, 
 who still puffed, fumed, and splashed, in his efforts 
 to advance by means of the half-submerged bench. 
 The flames poured roaring upward from the steamer, 
 in deep volumes, wide belts, thick coils, volatile spirals 
 ruddy, crimson, or like melted gold and the bones 
 of the might} 7 structure were heard to crack as if she 
 had been in the grasp of a fiery anaconda. Their 
 terrific splendor was reflected in the flood so intensely, 
 so universally, that Perry seemed to himself to be 
 swimming through a burning lake of Hell. 
 
 Again came the question, where was Oliphant? 
 Perry could not abandon the belief that, somehow or 
 other, his friend had been rescued ; yet the picture of 
 that face looking starward was stamped upon his 
 mind ; he saw it subsiding into the vague, relentless 
 wash of the waves. He imagined the stalwart but 
 helpless figure of that quiet manly man going down, 
 down, down into the silent, unknown depths ; and 
 he could feel, very nearly as if it were his own expe 
 rience, the strangling sensation, the struggle against
 
 284 NEWPORT. 
 
 suffocation, the final dreamy resignation which, he had 
 heard, accompany death by drowning. 
 
 Meanwhile, high over the weltering gleams, over 
 the black eastward smoke of the burning bulk, and 
 the quivering mirror of water that tremulously gave 
 back a glow of red, the stars hung poised in eternal 
 flight calm, restful, }-et distributed over the sky as 
 capriciously as if they had just been lodged in their 
 places by some haphazard volley from an exploded 
 world.
 
 xrx. 
 
 LOVE AT LAST. 
 
 DANA SWEETSER, whose great cares and re- 
 sponsibilities had aided in making the ravages of 
 time more apparent upon his countenance, was en 
 gaged, on the morning that followed the steamboat 
 disaster, in an elaborate toilet. He had mourned at 
 length over some colored socks which his laundress 
 had just returned in a bleached condition, owing to 
 some vicious compound used in the washing, and was 
 reflecting upon the disappointments of life, as he 
 softened with powdered magnesia the over-rubicund 
 tint which a liberal diet had begun to bestow upon his 
 nose, when his valet burst into the room with a rumor 
 of what had happened. Two or three general tele 
 grams had been received, which, among other details, 
 announced that Mr. Thorburn had been lost. Dana 
 was terribly broken down by this information : even 
 his interest in his personal appearance was pathetically 
 subdued ; and as soon as he could put himself decently 
 together, he sallied forth to gain further particulars. 
 
 The report concerning Thorburn proved to be wrong ; 
 for both he and Perry were among the saved. There 
 had been a great sacrifice of life, but, considering 
 
 285
 
 286 NEWPORT. 
 
 the nature of the calamity, a surprisingly large num 
 ber of people had been rescued. When the New York 
 papers arrived, after noon, with fuller accounts than 
 had yet been received, the circumstance of one man 
 attempting to force a mother and child away from 
 their only means of safety was related, among various 
 other startling and curious particulars which the sur 
 vivors had given to correspondents, and roused general 
 execrations ; but Thorburn, being unknown to the 
 mother who had also reached the shore alive was 
 not identified as the wretch. He was in Newport by 
 the time the papers came, and was met by a great 
 many telegrams and sundry effusive callers, congratu 
 lating him on his personal good fortune. 
 
 Perry remained at Watch Hill, the nearest inhabited 
 point on the coast, whither the rescued had been con 
 veyed, and where many bodies of the drowned either 
 floated in or were brought ashore. He was looking 
 for some trace of Oliphant. . . . 
 
 Late in the afternoon he entered Newport, com 
 pletely exhausted, and drove in a hired carriage slowly 
 up Pelham Street, unwilling to go to his father's house, 
 and bent upon engaging some bachelor quarters which 
 he knew had been vacated a few days before. It was 
 a lovely afternoon : the declining sun sent long, red 
 dish rays between the old white houses, soft beams 
 that caught the light dust and gave it a tint as delicate 
 as peach-bloom or smote the outstretched branches 
 of trees, and woke them to strange ardor of coloring, 
 set off by the cool green in shadow and the first dull 
 brown of changing foliage. A scanty drift of fallen
 
 LOVE AT LAST. 287 
 
 leaves was blown occasionally along the sidewalks by 
 the September wind, with a dry, rattling whisper. The 
 sunbeams twinkled, too, upon the turning wheel-spokes 
 that were ptying on the avenue, as Perry reached the 
 Park. A pink-coated fox- hunter crossed the > heaa 
 of the street, with his nag at a walk, holding hi3 
 hunting-crop languidly, and exhibiting himself in a light 
 of meritorious and manly fatigue : he was doing the 
 heroic, for the benefit of that sybaritic society which 
 rolled by him so suavely in the comfort of its stylish 
 turnouts. Newport was still itself : smiling, serene, 
 light-hearted ; rejoicing in the gentle gratification of 
 being almost English. But the sight did not soothe 
 Perry : it sickened him. Life at Newport, which a 
 few days before had seemed so proud, so splendid and 
 fair, became suddenly in his eyes a pretentious patch 
 work, a thing of gorgeous shreds and tatters, gay as a 
 fool's motley, and covering only a mass of petty or 
 flippant traits of character, bound together by a rest 
 less desire for superficial pleasure. He had just been 
 brought face to face with the most fearful realities ; he 
 had witnessed an act of perfect self-sacrifice ; and 
 now, as he came from that experience, with a burden 
 of unspeakable sorrow on his heart, this world of os 
 tentatious levity was a positive offence to him. 
 
 He obtained the rooms he wanted, sent for his own 
 servant, and some clothes from his father's house, and 
 then despatched messengers to ascertain where he could 
 see Josephine ; lying down, meanwhile, to rest. 
 
 During the two days since she had written to Oli- 
 phant, Octavia's mood had been brightening. The
 
 288 NEWPORT. 
 
 fine warm ivory of her cheeks took on a delicate tinge 
 of rose ; her vivacity, always fresh and in force, was 
 exquisitely, unconsciously, varied by a tremor of feel 
 ing, a more genial ardor of sympathy with every one 
 and with every thing that was going on, which made 
 it doubly enchanting. She did not dare to hope much ; 
 she scarcely reflected at all ; the claims of the past 
 upon her and the question of loyalty to Gifford's 
 memory retained no hold. She confessed nothing ex 
 cept that she was possessed by a sweet prescience that 
 soon she should be at peace with Oliphant and united 
 to him. On the night when he set out upon his journey 
 to Newport, she went to a large ball given by the 
 Spanish minister one of the last and most iridescent 
 phases of the expiring season. The entertainment 
 was dazzling in the highest degree. An immense tent 
 had been connected with the minister's house, extend 
 ing over a large stretch of lawn ; and in the interior, 
 walled with an odorous wilderness of extravagant plants 
 in flower, the dancing took place, on a floor of perfect 
 smoothness, made for the occasion. The weather was 
 warm, and both in order to cool the place and for the 
 sake of decoration, a grotto of ice had been contrived 
 at the farther end, through which changing lights of 
 blue and green and yellow fire were thrown at inter 
 vals, transforming the glittering blocks to a fluorescent 
 mass. The whole house was spectacular in the rich 
 ness and glow of its appointments, its illuminations, 
 its floral adornment ; and the dense assembly that cir 
 culated through it flashed and shone with a fabulous 
 magnificence of beautiful costumes and sparkling jew-
 
 LOVE AT LAST. 289 
 
 els. Octavia took her place in the scene as a natural 
 part of it, and held her own with ease. She drew 
 quietly to herself the best of attention ; she danced fre 
 quently, with the greatest enjoyment ; and those who 
 had seen most of her noticed the uncommon buoyancy 
 of her talk and bearing. 
 
 Yet, when the hour came for going away, she her 
 self was surprised at the subtile depression that 
 weighed upon her. The ice-grotto had begun to melt, 
 and was on the point of collapse ; the chemical lights 
 had faded ; and at just about that time, the last sati 
 ated flames that had consumed the steamer on the 
 Sound were throwing their exhausted ribbons of fire 
 into the melancholy air. 
 
 In her room, Octavia remained awake for a while, to 
 hear the approach of the boat ; but its ominous though 
 welcome roll of thunder from the booming paddles did 
 not come to her ears. The failure made her somewhat 
 uneasy, yet at last she fell asleep, without being able 
 to explain it, and slept on until near noon. When *he 
 woke, she had a conviction that Oliphant would appear 
 before nightfall. She prepared herself for that meet 
 ing, with the half-shy yet tender and minute care that 
 a woman uses in a tribute almost devout to the lov 
 er's ideal of her when she is on the eve of seeing 
 the man she holds dearest. Not a detail of her per 
 sonal appearance was decided upon, without reference 
 to this great anticipation. 
 
 But alas, Oliphant did not come. On looking at 
 her paper, which for a moment did not seem to her 
 worth reading on a day that she believed was to be so
 
 290 . NEWPORT. 
 
 joyously memorable, Octavia's fluttering expectations 
 received an abrupt check ; and soon, although she had 
 heard not a syllable from Oliphant and no hint of him 
 was given in the report of the disaster, her suspense 
 became unbearable. 
 
 " Do 3'ou know," she asked Vivian, whom she im 
 mediately went to see, " whether Mr. Oliphant was on 
 board?" 
 
 " Mr. Oliphant ! What put that into your head? " 
 the bride exclaimed. " Of course not. He's gone to 
 California." 
 
 Octavia was bewildered, and began to be pained by 
 an unforeseen anxiety lest he had not received her let 
 ter. She told Vivian of her writing ; and then Vivian 
 was puzzled, too. It was resolved between them that 
 Craig should try, by telegraphing, to ascertain whether 
 such a person as Eugene Oliphant had been among the 
 passengers. 
 
 The answer came to him at length, in the night. 
 
 That same evening, also, Perry saw Josephine. She 
 was visiting again in Newport ; but as it was two or 
 three hours before he slept off his fatigue, he did not 
 arrive at the house until nine. When she met him, 
 he was so pale, so haggard, so worn, that she started 
 back in affright. 
 
 " What is it? " she cried. " I heard of the accident, 
 after your messenger came. Was your father really 
 lost?" 
 
 "No," said Perry, his voice choking. "If you 
 can come out, I will tell you." 
 
 Josephine threw a light wrap over her shoulders, and
 
 LOVE AT LAST. 291 
 
 they emerged into the grounds, which were near those 
 of Octavia's villa. Without a word he walked down 
 towards the water, and she followed him. They could 
 see the bay dancing softly, mystically, in the light 
 of the new moon, while the boundary-trees in front 
 of them blotted the silvery radiance with a pattern of 
 black, twisted trunks, sharply and uncouthly distinct. 
 Then Perry paused. 
 
 "It was not my father," he said. "It was Oli- 
 phant who was lost." 
 
 A cry of horror and of suffering escaped from 
 Josephine's lips ; she leaned forward, and hid her face 
 upon her arm, against one of the trees. For the first 
 instant, her emotion seemed to Perry only what he 
 might have expected ; but it lasted so long that he 
 began to question. With a rush, then, the truth came 
 to his mind. 
 
 " You loved that man ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 She lifted her head, at this, and met his intense, 
 jealous scrutiny without wavering. There was a riddle 
 in her eyes, still, as there always had been, and doubt 
 less always would be ; and in this semi-obscurity of 
 the night it was more than ever hopeless to attempt 
 solving that riddle. Her face was very white, he could 
 see ; yet he could almost have doubted whether the 
 voice which answered him came from the softl} T moving 
 lips, or from the shadows that surrounded her. 
 
 " Yes," it whispered. " I loved him." 
 
 Something like an imprecation rose to Perry's lips, 
 but he only groaned : " I wish I could have died in his 
 place!"
 
 292 NEWPORT. 
 
 "You mustn't say that," Josephine returned, with 
 strange calmness, though speaking hardly above her 
 breath. " You have no right to wish it." 
 
 " Why ? " he demanded, bitterly. 
 
 " Because it was fate. You must accept what fate 
 brings." 
 
 "Ah, if it had brought me you!" he began, in a 
 passionate way. "But no! You never could have 
 married me ; and even if things were different, I could 
 hardly offer myself to you now." He went on rap 
 idly, pouring out an account of the catastrophe and his 
 father's brutal conduct. " After that," he said, " how 
 should I hope to win a woman like you ? The son of 
 such a father ! I suppose I have the same traits in 
 me, somewhere." 
 
 " But you're not like him," Josephine returned, 
 coming suddenly to his defence, against himself. "If 
 you were you wouldn't condemn him." 
 
 "Then you think there's some chance for me?" 
 he asked, giving way to a slight laugh of scorn. It 
 was succeeded by a burst of earnest entreaty. " Oh, 
 Josephine," he cried, "is there any hope, any possi 
 bility, that I may win you by and by? I will be con 
 tent with any love }'ou can give, if you think you 
 might be happier with me than without me. Only let 
 me know if I may keep this hope before my mind ! " 
 
 " I cannot speak of it now," she said, in her mys 
 terious tone, that was neither cold nor warm, but 
 neutral, and shuddering a little. " It may be our fate 
 but not now ; not now." After a silence she asked, 
 " Is this what you came here to say ? "
 
 LOVE AT LAST. 293 
 
 " No," he assured her. "I want you to help me 
 in a difficult task. This news must he broken to 
 Octavia." 
 
 He then explained to her, that he had found upon 
 Oliphaut, tightly folded in a letter case within a cov 
 ered pocket, the note Octavia had sent him. It was 
 somewhat water-soaked, but legible still, and Perry 
 had guessed, from the few lines that caught his eye, 
 something of the events which had inspired it. 
 
 Josephine consented to go with him to High Lawn, 
 and he waited outside the door, while she went in to 
 see Octavia. 
 
 "It is all over, Octavia," she said,. quietly, as the 
 widow entered to greet her. ' ' You and I have been 
 separated lately ; but there is no need of it any more." 
 
 Octavia came up and caught her arm, with a quick 
 apprehensive demand for her meaning. Briefly and 
 tenderly, as well as she could, Josephine imparted 
 every thing. 
 
 Octavia took the blurred letter, and glanced at it for 
 an instant ; then sank into a chair, gazing wanly at 
 the woman who stood motionless opposite her. She 
 shrank, and seemed to wither visibly. 
 
 " O God, O God ! " she cried. " I haVe killed him. 
 And how I am punished ! That it should be my letter 
 brought back to me, and that you, Josephine, should 
 be the one to bring it ! " 
 
 A heart-broken moan buried any thing further that 
 she might have been moved to say, and the tears 
 streamed from beneath her eyelids.
 
 294 NEWPORT. 
 
 Oliphant was interred at Woodlawn, beside little Effie ; 
 and Octavia, without vehemence, but resolutely, and 
 setting aside every conventional consideration, took her 
 share in all the final dispositions. With Justin she 
 went to place the flowers around him in his coffin, and 
 looked once more upon her hapless lover. His face 
 was not like that of a dead man ; it was that of one 
 who had been awakened and told that he might depart 
 from imprisonment. True, the sinister and perhaps 
 ironical change which comes over the countenances of 
 those who are to open their lips no more on earth had 
 fallen upon it. But through the baffling dumbness of 
 its slightly pinched lines that peculiar silence that 
 seemed to be voluntary, like a mask put on in order 
 that the wearer might conceal some intelligence too 
 important to be betrayed by a look there stole a far- 
 off, wonderful, calm light of exalted joy. 
 
 "What had he last thought of, as he passed away? 
 She imagined the noble scorn that must have swept 
 through every vein and nerve, when he measured the 
 monstrous selfishness of old Thorburn, and instantly 
 threw into the balance against it his own sacrifice. 
 The final consciousness in his mind must have been 
 one of absolute, magnanimous love ; not for her, nor 
 for any one individual, but a sentiment so large and 
 ideal that it made the laying down of his life for a 
 woman he had never seen before, and for her little 
 child, a pleasure surpassing any other. Whether that 
 woman was valuable in herself or not, she came before 
 him in that tragic hour as a type of motherhood, she 
 presented to him an image of life in its most sacred
 
 LOVE AT LAST. 295 
 
 form ; and the love in his heart went out towards it 
 with perfect purity and power. 
 
 Such were the broken meditations that came to 
 Octavia, while she arranged the flowers. She per 
 formed the task without flinching ; yet a few irrepres 
 sible tears fell softly upon her hands, and the hands 
 trembled slightly, like leaves wet with dew, just stir 
 ring in the breath of daybreak. 
 
 A year later, Octavia was again at Newport for a 
 few days, soon after the season began. The place 
 was still beautiful to her, and she remembered her old 
 enthusiasm for it ; but the spectacle of its life no 
 longer held any charm. And yet how short a time 
 since she had been a part of it ! Was it out of that 
 vanity and frivolity that her own folly had arisen, 
 which led her to jest maliciously with Oliphant's love? 
 
 Once while she was there, she saw Josephine and 
 Perry Thorburn driving together, and was conscious in 
 a dreamy way of the fact, which had been imparted 
 to her, that they were engaged ; but she had no meet 
 ing with them. 
 
 Much more important and distinct to her mind was 
 a long, kind letter which she received from Vivian 
 Craig, written in Germany, whither Justin had gone 
 after Oliphant's legacy was made over to him. 
 
 " I am wearing your diamonds that you gave me for 
 a wedding present," said Vivian in her letter, "and 
 baby has been crying for them. Just as I write, 
 though, she is laughing again at their pretty sparkle." 
 
 So, in the quick round of life, the widow's tears had
 
 296 NEWPORT. 
 
 become the moment's plaything of a child, and a rain 
 bow coloring flashed from them. 
 
 The last clay that Octavia spent in Newport, she 
 went out on foot, and walked over the bleak downs 
 where Oliphant had wandered on that dreary day of his 
 defeat. She arrived at the great house near the cave ; 
 but the place was closed and empty now, and she could 
 go down to the rocks without intrusion. For a long 
 while she sat lost in thought upon the lonely little ledge 
 on which, when she last visited it, Oliphant had sat 
 with her. It was very silent there ; the waters hardly 
 murmured in the cave : no one was near. What an im 
 mense solitude surrounded her ! And how much greater 
 was the solitude of her own heart ! Yet she felt a pres 
 ence attending her : the soft breeze, that crept up to 
 her and tenderly played with a tress or two of stray 
 ing hair upon her forehead, was like Oliphant's hand 
 caressing her. The slumbering ocean, too, which had 
 absorbed his life, seemed conscious of him. 
 
 But had he not once loved another woman, and she 
 another man ? Which was the true love ? She could 
 not unravel the knot ; but at least she knew that, what 
 ever the limitations of one heart or of individual devo 
 tion, the great ideal passion survived through all these 
 changes. Oliphant had brought something of rare 
 worth into her life ; had given her a higher conception 
 of love. To this extent she shared in it, that it had 
 touched her in passing, and that she now knew its 
 quality. Though she had failed to grasp and keep it, 
 the power and the fragrance remained with her still, 
 like the lingering, lifting odor of the sea blown in at 
 random through an artificial atmosphere.
 
 LOVE AT LAST. 297 
 
 Love had come, and love had gone. How strange 
 that it had not staid with Oliphant, who so well 
 deserved to have it ! How strange that he should 
 have chosen to follow her, instead of Josephine ; and 
 that Josephine's passion for him should have been so 
 olinclly frustrated ! Octavia herself was also left alone. 
 And yet, though love had thus come and gone, it was 
 somehow here at last. 
 
 Octayia rose from the ledge to walk back : she was 
 about to leave Newport forever. As she stood for a 
 moment there, her small, fine figure was relieved 
 against the gray bastion of rock like a silhouette. 
 
 She was clad wholly in black black never more to 
 be abandoned.
 
 A New Story by the Author of "Guerndale" 
 
 THE CRIME OF 
 
 HENRY VANE. 
 
 BY "J. S. OF DALE." 
 
 1 J'o/utnc. 12mo, - - $1. 
 
 ' Henry Vane " is a study of American life. It is worth while 
 to note, in the midst of the present flood of literature 
 dealing with the inexhaustible problem of the American 
 girl, that here is a different phase of the American girl 
 from any that is familiar a more serious one, if not one 
 that every reader will be willing to accept as true. The 
 story is told with the vivid and strong simplicity that has 
 been a distinguishing trait of the author's power; and 
 while the plot contains a great surprise, none of the force 
 of the narrative is sacrificed merelv to this. 
 
 ** For sale by all booksellers, or sent, postpaid, on receipt of 
 price by 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, 
 
 743 and 745 Broadway, New York.
 
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