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diff --git a/22297.txt b/22297.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..53aee3b --- /dev/null +++ b/22297.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8320 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Coast of Bohemia, by William Dean Howells + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Coast of Bohemia + +Author: William Dean Howells + +Release Date: August 10, 2007 [EBook #22297] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COAST OF BOHEMIA *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + +THE COAST OF BOHEMIA + + + +By W. D. Howells + + +Biographical Edition + + + +NEW YORK AND LONDON +HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS +1899 + +Copyright, 1893, 1899, by WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS. + +_All rights reserved._ + + + + + +INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. + + +In one of the old-fashioned books for children there was a story of the +adventures of a cent (or perhaps that coin of older lineage, a penny) +told by itself, which came into my mind when the publishers suggested +that the readers of a new edition of this book might like to know how +it happened to be written. I promptly fancied the book speaking, and +taking upon itself the burden of autobiography, which we none of us +find very heavy; and no sooner had I done so than I began actually to +hear from it in a narrative of much greater distinctness than I could +have supplied for it. + +"You must surely remember," it protested to my forgetfulness, "that you +first thought of me in anything like definite shape as you stood +looking on at the trotting-races of a county fair in Northern Ohio, and +that I began to gather color and character while you loitered through +the art-building, and dwelt with pitying interest upon the forlorn, +unpromising exhibits there. + +"But previous to this, my motive existed somewhere in that nebulous +fore-life where both men and books have their impalpable beginning; for +even you cannot have forgotten that when a certain passionately +enterprising young editor asked you for a novel to be printed in his +journal, you so far imagined me as to say that I would be about a girl. +When you looked over those hapless works of art at the Pymantoning +County Fair, you thought, 'What a good thing it would be to have a nice +village girl, with a real but limited gift, go from here to study art +in New York! And get in love there! And married!' Cornelia and her +mother at once stepped out of the inchoate; Ludlow advanced from +another quarter of Chaos, and I began really to be. + +"The getting me down on paper was a much later affair--nearly two years +later. There were earlier engagements to be met; there was an exciting +editorial episode to be got behind you; and there was material for a +veridical representation of the ardent young life of the New York +Synthesis of Art Studies to be gathered as nearly at first hands and as +furtively as possible. + +"I should be almost ashamed to remind you of the clandestine means you +employed before you were forced to a frankness alien to your nature, +and went and threw yourself on the mercy of a Member who, upon your +avowing your purpose, took you through the schools of the Synthesis and +instructed you in its operation. Not satisfied with this, you got an +undergraduate of the Synthesis to coach you as to its social side, and +while she was consenting to put it all down in writing for your +convenience, you were shamelessly making notes of her boarding-house, +as the very place to have Cornelia come to. + +"Your methods were at first so secret and uncandid that I wonder I ever +came to be the innocent book I am; and I feel that the credit is far +less due to you than to the friends who helped you. But I am glad to +remember how you got your come-uppings when, long after, a student of +the Synthesis whom you asked, in your latent vanity, how she thought +that social part of me was managed, answered, 'Well, any one could see +that it was studied altogether from the outside, that it wasn't at all +the _spirit_ of the Synthesis.' + +"It was enough almost to make me doubt myself, but I recovered my +belief in my own truth when I reflected that it was merely a just +punishment for you. I could expose you in other points, if I chose, and +show what slight foundations you built my facts and characters upon; +but perhaps that would be ungrateful. You were at least a doting +parent, if not a wise one, and in your fondness you did your best to +spoil me. You gave me two heroines, and you know very well that before +you were done you did not know but you preferred Charmian to Cornelia. +And you had nothing whatever to build Charmian upon, not the slightest +suggestion from life, where you afterwards encountered her Egyptian +profile! I think I ought to say that you had never been asked to a +Synthesis dance when you wrote that account of one in me; and though +you have often been asked since, you have never had the courage to go +for fear of finding out how little it was like your description. + +"But if Charmian was created out of nothing, what should you say if I +were frank about the other characters of my story? Could you deny that +the drummer who was first engaged to Cornelia was anything more than a +materialization from seeing a painter very long ago make his two +fingers do a ballet-dance? Or that Ludlow was not at first a mere +pointed beard and a complexion glimpsed in a slim young Cuban one night +at Saratoga? Or that Cornelia's mother existed by any better right than +your once happening to see a poor lady try to hide the gap in her teeth +when she smiled? + +"When I think what a thing of shreds and patches I am, I wonder that I +have any sort of individual temperament or consciousness at all. But I +know that I have, and that you wrote me with pleasure and like me +still. You think I have form, and that, if I am not very serious, I am +sincere, and that somehow I represent a phase of our droll American +civilization truly enough. I know you were vexed when some people said +I did not go far enough, and insisted that the coast of Bohemia ought +to have been the whole kingdom. As if I should have cared to be that! +There are shady places inland where I should not have liked my girls to +be, and where I think my young men would not have liked to meet them; +and I am glad you kept me within the sweet, pure breath of the sea. I +think I am all the better book for that, and, if you are fond of me, +you have your reasons. I----" + +"Upon my word," I interrupted at this point, "it seems to me that you +are saying rather more for yourself than I could say for you, if you +_are_ one of my spoiled children. Don't you think we had both better +give the reader a chance, now?" + +"Oh, if there are to be any readers!" cried the book, and lapsed into +the silence of print. + +[Illustration: W. D. Howells.] + + + + +Transcriber's Note: The Table of Contents has been added for the + convenience of the reader. + + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS + + + Chapter + + I. XXI. + II. XXII. + III. XXIII. + IV. XXIV. + V. XXV. + VI. XXVI. + VII. XXVII. + VIII. XXVIII. + IX. XXIX. + X. XXX. + XI. XXXI. + XII. XXXII. + XIII. XXXIII. + XIV. XXXIV. + XV. XXXV. + XVI. XXXVI. + XVII. XXXVII. +XVIII. XXXVIII. + XIX. XXXIX. + XX. + + + + +THE COAST OF BOHEMIA. + + + + +I. + + +The forty-sixth annual fair of the Pymantoning County Agricultural +Society was in its second day. The trotting-matches had begun, and the +vast majority of the visitors had abandoned the other features of the +exhibition for this supreme attraction. They clustered four or five +deep along the half-mile of railing that enclosed the track, and sat +sweltering in the hot September sun, on the benching of the grandstand +that flanked a stretch of the course. Boys selling lemonade and +peanuts, and other boys with the score of the races, made their way up +and down the seats with shrill cries; now and then there was a shriek +of girls' laughter from a group of young people calling to some other +group, or struggling for a programme caught back and forth; the young +fellows shouted to each other jokes that were lost in mid-air; but, for +the most part, the crowd was a very silent one, grimly intent upon the +rival sulkies as they flashed by and lost themselves in the clouds that +thickened over the distances of the long, dusty loop. Here and there +some one gave a shout as a horse broke, or settled down to his work +under the guttural snarl of his driver; at times the whole throng burst +into impartial applause as a horse gained or lost a length; but the +quick throb of the hoofs on the velvety earth and the whir of the +flying wheels were the sounds that chiefly made themselves heard. + +The spectacle had the importance which multitude givers, and Ludlow +found in it the effects which he hoped to get again in his impression. +He saw the deep purples which he looked to see with eyes trained by the +French masters of his school to find them, and the indigo blues, the +intense greens, the rainbow oranges and scarlets; and he knew just how +he should give them. In the light of that vast afternoon sky, +cloudless, crystalline in its clearness, no brilliancy of rendering +could be too bold. + +If he had the courage of his convictions, this purely American event +could be reported on his canvas with all its native character; and yet +it could be made to appeal to the enlightened eye with the charm of a +French subject, and impressionism could be fully justified of its +follower in Pymantoning as well as in Paris. That golden dust along the +track; the level tops of the buggies drawn up within its ellipse, and +the groups scattered about in gypsy gayety on the grass there; the dark +blur of men behind the barrier; the women, with their bright hats and +parasols, massed flower-like,--all made him long to express them in +lines and dots and breadths of pure color. He had caught the vital +effect of the whole, and he meant to interpret it so that its truth +should be felt by all who had received the light of the new faith in +painting, who believed in the prismatic colors as in the ten +commandments, and who hoped to be saved by tone-contrasts. For the +others, Ludlow was at that day too fanatical an impressionist to care. +He owed a duty to France no less than to America, and he wished to +fulfil it in a picture which should at once testify to the excellence +of the French method and the American material. At twenty-two, one is +often much more secure and final in one's conclusions than one is +afterwards. + +He was vexed that a lingering doubt of the subject had kept him from +bringing a canvas with him at once, and recording his precious first +glimpses of it. But he meant to come to the trotting-match the next day +again, and then he hoped to get back to his primal impression of the +scene, now so vivid in his mind. He made his way down the benches, and +out of the enclosure of the track. He drew a deep breath, full of the +sweet smell of the bruised grass, forsaken now by nearly all the feet +that had trodden it. A few old farmers, who had failed to get places +along the railing and had not cared to pay for seats on the stand, were +loitering about, followed by their baffled and disappointed wives. The +men occasionally stopped at the cattle-pens, but it was less to look at +the bulls and boars and rams which had taken the premiums, and wore +cards or ribbons certifying the fact, than to escape a consciousness of +their partners, harassingly taciturn or voluble in their reproach. A +number of these embittered women brokenly fringed the piazza of the +fair-house, and Ludlow made his way toward them with due sympathy for +their poor little tragedy, so intelligible to him through the memories +of his own country-bred youth. He followed with his pity those who +sulked away through the deserted aisles of the building, and nursed +their grievance among the prize fruits and vegetables, and the fruits +and vegetables that had not taken the prizes. They were more censorious +than they would have been perhaps if they had not been defeated +themselves; he heard them dispute the wisdom of most of the awards as +the shoutings and clappings from the racetrack penetrated the lonely +hall. They creaked wearily up and down in their new shoes or best +shoes, and he knew how they wished themselves at home and in bed, and +wondered why they had ever been such fools as to come, anyway. +Occasionally, one of their husbands lagged in, as if in search of his +wife, but kept at a safe distance, after seeing her, or hung about with +a group of other husbands, who could not be put to shame or suffering +as they might if they had appeared singly. + + + + +II. + + +Ludlow believed that if the right fellow ever came to the work, he +could get as much pathos out of our farm folks as Millet got out of his +Barbizon peasants. But the fact was that he was not the fellow; he +wanted to paint beauty not pathos; and he thought, so far as he thought +ethically about it, that, the Americans needed to be shown the festive +and joyous aspects of their common life. To discover and to represent +these was his pleasure as an artist, and his duty as a citizen. He +suspected, though, that the trotting-match was the only fact of the +Pymantoning County Fair that could be persuaded to lend itself to his +purpose. Certainly, there was nothing in the fair-house, with those +poor, dreary old people straggling through it, to gladden an artistic +conception. Agricultural implements do not group effectively, or pose +singly with much picturesqueness; tall stalks of corn, mammoth +squashes, huge apples and potatoes want the beauty and quality that +belong to them out of doors, when they are gathered into the sections +of a county fair-house; piles of melons fail of their poetry on a +wooden floor, and heaps of grapes cannot assert themselves in a very +bacchanal profusion against the ignominy of being spread upon long +tables and ticketed with the names of their varieties and exhibitors. + +Ludlow glanced at them, to right and left, as he walked through the +long, barn-like building, and took in with other glances the inadequate +decorations of the graceless interior. His roving eye caught the +lettering over the lateral archways, and with a sort of contemptuous +compassion he turned into the Fine Arts Department. + +The fine arts were mostly represented by photographs and crazy quilts; +but there were also tambourines and round brass plaques painted with +flowers, and little satin banners painted with birds or autumn leaves, +and gilt rolling-pins with vines. There were medley-pictures contrived +of photographs cut out and grouped together in novel and unexpected +relations; and there were set about divers patterns and pretences in +keramics, as the decoration of earthen pots and jars was called. +Besides these were sketches in oil and charcoal, which Ludlow found +worse than the more primitive things, with their second-hand _chic_ +picked up in a tenth-rate school. He began to ask himself whether +people tasteless enough to produce these inanities and imagine them +artistic, could form even the subjects of art; he began to have doubts +of his impression of the trotting-match, its value, its possibility of +importance. The senseless ugliness of the things really hurt him: his +worship of beauty was a sort of religion, and their badness was a sort +of blasphemy. He could not laugh at them; he wished he could; and his +first impulse was to turn and escape from the Fine Arts Department, and +keep what little faith in the artistic future of the country he had +been able to get together during his long sojourn out of it. Since his +return he had made sure of the feeling for color and form with which +his country-women dressed themselves. There was no mistake about that; +even here, in the rustic heart of the continent he had seen costumes +which had touch and distinction; and it could not be that the instinct +which they sprang from should go for nothing in the arts supposed +higher than mantua-making and millinery. The village girls whom he saw +so prettily gowned and picturesquely hatted on the benches out there by +the race-course, could it have been they who committed these +atrocities? Or did these come up from yet deeper depths of the country, +where the vague, shallow talk about art going on for the past decade +was having its first crude effect? Ludlow was exasperated as well as +pained, for he knew that the pretty frocks and hats expressed a love of +dressing prettily, which was honest and genuine enough, while the +unhappy effects about him could spring only from a hollow vanity far +lower than a woman's wish to be charming. It was not an innate impulse +which produced them, but a sham ambition, implanted from without, and +artificially stimulated by the false and fleeting mood of the time. +They must really hamper the growth of aesthetic knowledge among people +who were not destitute of the instinct. + +He exaggerated the importance of the fact with the sensitiveness of a +man to whom aesthetic cultivation was all-important. It appeared to him +a far greater evil than it was; it was odious to him, like a vice; it +was almost a crime. He spent a very miserable time in the Fine Arts +Department of the Pymantoning County Agricultural Fair; and in a kind +of horrible fascination he began to review the collection in detail, to +guess its causes in severalty and to philosophize its lamentable +consequences. + + + + +III. + + +In this process Ludlow discovered that there was more of the Fine Arts +Department than he had supposed at first. He was aware of some women +who had come into the next aisle or section, and presently he overheard +fragments of their talk. + +A girl's voice said passionately: "I don't care! I shan't leave them +here for folks to make remarks about! I knew they wouldn't take the +premium, and I hope you're satisfied now, mother." + +"Well, you're a very silly child," came in an older voice, suggestive +of patience and amiability. "Don't tear them, anyway!" + +"I shall! I don't care if I tear them all to pieces." + +There was a sound of quick steps, and of the angry swirl of skirts, and +the crackling and rending of paper. + +"There, now!" said the older voice. "You've dropped one." + +"I don't care! I hope they'll trample it under their great stupid +hoofs." + +The paper, whatever it was, came skating out under the draped tabling +in the section where Ludlow stood, arrested in his sad employment by +the unseen drama, and lay at his feet. He picked it up, and he had only +time to glance at it before he found himself confronted by a fiercely +tearful young girl who came round the corner of his section, and +suddenly stopped at sight of him. With one hand she pressed some +crumpled sheets of paper against, her breast; the other she stretched +toward Ludlow. + +"Oh! will you----" she began, and then she faltered; and as she turned +her little head aside for a backward look over her shoulder, she made +him, somehow, think of a hollyhock, by the tilt of her tall, slim, +young figure, and by the colors of her hat from which her face +flowered; no doubt the deep-crimson silk waist she wore, with its +petal-edged ruffle flying free down her breast, had something to do +with his fantastic notion. She was a brunette, with the lightness and +delicacy that commonly go with the beauty of a blonde. She could not +have been more than fifteen; her skirts had not yet matured to the full +womanly length; she was still a child. + +A handsome, mild, middle-aged woman appeared beside the stormy young +thing, and said in the voice which Ludlow had already heard, "Well, +Cornelia!" She seemed to make more account than the girl made of the +young fellow's looks. He was of the medium height for a man, but he was +so slight that he seemed of lower stature, and he eked out an effect of +distinction by brushing his little moustache up sharply at the corners +in a fashion he had learned in France, and by wearing a little black +dot of an imperial. His brow was habitually darkened by a careworn +frown, which came from deep and anxious thinking about the principles +and the practice of art. He was very well dressed, and he carried +himself with a sort of worldly splendor which did not intimidate the +lady before him. In the country women have no more apprehension of men +who are young and stylish and good-looking than they have in the city; +they rather like them to be so, and meet them with confidence in any +casual encounter. + +The lady said, "Oh, thank you," as Ludlow came up to the girl with the +paper, and then she laughed with no particular intention, and said, +"It's one of my daughter's drawings." + +"Oh, indeed!" said Ludlow, with a quick perception of the mother's +pride in it, and of all the potentialities of prompt intimacy. "It's +very good." + +"Well, _I_ think so," said the lady, while the girl darkled and bridled +in young helplessness. If she knew that her mother ought not to be +offering a stranger her confidence like that, she did not know what to +do about it. "She was just going to take them home," said the mother +vaguely. + +"I'm sorry," said Ludlow. "I seem to be a day after the fair, as far as +they're concerned." + +"Well, I don't know," said the mother, with the same amiable vagueness. +She had some teeth gone, and when she smiled she tried to hide their +absence on the side next Ludlow; but as she was always smiling she did +not succeed perfectly. She looked doubtfully at her daughter, in the +manner of mothers whom no severity of snubbing can teach that their +daughters when well-grown girls can no longer be treated as infants. "I +don't know as you'd think you had lost much. We didn't expect they +_would_ take the premium, a _great_ deal." + +"I should hope not," said Ludlow. "The competition was bad enough." + +The mother seemed to divine a compliment in this indefinite speech. She +said: "Well, I don't see myself why they didn't take it." + +"There was probably no one to feel how much better they were," said +Ludlow. + +"Well, that's what _I_ think," said the mother, "and it's what I tell +her." She stood looking from Ludlow to her daughter and back, and now +she ventured, seeing him so intent on the sketch he still held, "You an +artist?" + +"A student of art," said Ludlow, with the effect of uncovering himself +in a presence. + +The mother did not know what to make of it apparently; she said +blankly, "Oh!" and then added impressively, to her daughter: "Why don't +you show them to him, Cornelia?" + +"I should think it a great favor," said Ludlow, intending to be +profoundly respectful. But he must have overdone it. The girl +majestically gave her drawings to her mother, and marched out of the +aisle. + +Ludlow ignored her behavior, as if it had nothing to do with the +question, and began to look at the drawings, one after another, with +various inarticulate notes of comment imitated from a great French +master, and with various foreign phrases, such as "_Bon! Bon! Pas +mauvais! Joli! Chic!_" He seemed to waken from them to a consciousness +of the mother, and returned to English. "They are very interesting. Has +she had instruction?" + +"Only in the High School, here. And she didn't seem to care any for +that. She seems to want to work more by herself." + +"That's wrong," said Ludlow, "though she's probably right about the +High School." + +The mother made bold to ask, "Where are _you_ taking lessons?" + +"I?" said Ludlow, dreamily. "Oh! everywhere." + +"I thought, perhaps," the mother began, and she stopped, and then +resumed, "How many lessons do you expect to take?" + + + + +IV. + + +Ludlow descended from the high horse which he saw it was really useless +for him to ride in that simple presence. "I didn't mean that I was a +student of art in that sense, exactly. I suppose I'm a painter of some +sort. I studied in Paris, and I'm working in New York--if that's what +you mean." + +"Yes," said the lady, as if she did not know quite what she meant. + +Ludlow still remained in possession of the sketches, and he now looked +at them with a new knot between his eyebrows. He had known at the first +glance, with the perception of one who has done things in any art, that +here was the possibility of things in his art, and he had spoken from a +generous and compassionate impulse, from his recognition of the +possibility, and from his sympathy with the girl in her defeat. Now his +conscience began to prick him. He asked himself whether he had any +right to encourage her, whether he ought not rather to warn her. He +asked her mother: "Has she been doing this sort of thing long?" + +"Ever since she was a little bit of a thing," said the mother. "You +_might_ say she's been doing it ever since she could do anything; and +she _ain't_ but about fifteen, _now_. Well, she's going on sixteen," +the mother added, scrupulously. "She was born the third of July, and +now it's the beginning of September. So she's just fifteen years and a +little over two months. I suppose she's too young to commence taking +lessons regularly?" + +"No one would be too young for that," said Ludlow, austerely, with his +eyes on the sketch. He lifted them, and bent them frankly and kindly on +the mother's face. "And were you thinking of her going on?" The mother +questioned him for his exact meaning with the sweet unwisdom of her +smile. "Did you think of her becoming an artist, a painter?" + +"Well," she returned, "I presume she would have as good a chance as +anybody, if she had the talent for it." + +"She has the talent for it," said Ludlow, "and she would have a better +chance than most--that's very little to say--but it's a terribly rough +road." + +"Yes," the mother faltered, smiling. + +"Yes. It's a hard road for a man, and it's doubly hard for a woman. It +means work that breaks the back and wrings the brain. It means for a +woman, tears, and hysterics, and nervous prostration, and +insanity--some of them go wild over it. The conditions are bad air, and +long hours, and pitiless criticism; and the rewards are slight and +uncertain. One out of a hundred comes to anything at all; one out of a +thousand to anything worth while. New York is swarming with girl +art-students. They mostly live in poor boarding-houses, and some of +them actually suffer from hunger and cold. For men the profession is +hazardous, arduous; for women it's a slow anguish of endeavor and +disappointment. Most shop-girls earn more than most fairly successful +art-students for years; most servant-girls fare better. If you are +rich, and your daughter wishes to amuse herself by studying art, it's +all very well; but even then I wouldn't recommend it as an amusement. +If you're poor----" + +"I presume," the mother interrupted, "that she would be self-supporting +by the time she had taken six months' lessons, and I guess she could +get along till then." + +Ludlow stared at the amiably smiling creature. From her unruffled +composure his warning had apparently fallen like water from the back of +a goose. He saw that it would be idle to go on, and he stopped short +and waited for her to speak again. + +"If she was to go to New York to take lessons, how do you think she'd +better----" She seemed not to know enough of the situation to formulate +her question farther. He had pity on her ignorance, though he doubted +whether he ought to have. + +"Oh, go into the Synthesis," he said briefly. + +"The Synthesis?" + +"Yes; the Synthesis of Art Studies; it's the only thing. The work is +hard, but it's thorough; the training's excellent, if you live through +it." + +"Oh, I guess she'd live through it," said the mother with a laugh. She +added, "I don't know as I know just what you mean by the Synthesis of +Art Studies." + +"It's a society that the art-students have formed. They have their own +building, and casts, and models; the principal artists have classes +among them. You submit a sketch, and if you get in you work away till +you drop, if you're in earnest, or till you're bored, if you're amusing +yourself." + +"And should you think," said the mother gesturing toward him with the +sketches in her hand, "that she could get in?" + +"I think she could," said Ludlow, and he acted upon a sudden impulse. +He took a card from his pocketbook, and gave it to the mother. "If +you'll look me up when you come to New York, or let me know, I may be +of use to you, and I shall be very glad to put you in the way of +getting at the Synthesis." + +"Thanks," the mother drawled with her eyes on the card. She probably +had no clear sense of the favor done her. She lifted her eyes and +smiled on Ludlow with another kind of intelligence. "You're visiting at +Mrs. Burton's." + +"Yes," said Ludlow, remembering after a moment of surprise how +pervasive the fact of a stranger's presence in a village is. "Mr. +Burton can tell you who I am," he added in some impatience with her +renewed scrutiny of his card. + +"Oh, it's all right," she said, and she put it in her pocket, and then +she began to drift away a little. "Well, I'm sure I'm much obliged to +you." She hesitated a moment, and then she said, "Well, good +afternoon." + +"Good-by," said Ludlow, and he lifted his hat and stood bowing her out +of the Fine Arts Department, while she kept her eyes on him to the last +with admiration and approval. + +"Well, I declare, Cornelia," she burst out to her daughter, whom she +found glowering at the agricultural implements, "that _is_ about the +nicest fellow! Do you know what he's done?" She stopped and began a +search for her pocket, which ended successfully. "He's given me his +name, and told me just what you're to do. And when you get to New York, +if you ever do, you can go right straight _to_ him." + +She handed Ludlow's card to the girl, who instantly tore it to pieces +without looking at it. "I'll never go to him--horrid, mean, cross old +thing! And you go and talk about me to a perfect stranger as if I were +a baby. And now he'll go and laugh at you with the Burtons, and they'll +say it's just like you to say everything that comes into your head, +that way, and think everybody's as nice as they seem. But _he_ isn't +nice! He's _horrid_, and conceited, and--and--hateful. And I shall +_never_ study art anywhere. And I'd _die_ before I asked _him_ to help +me. He was just making fun of you all the time, and anybody but you +would see it, mother! Comparing me to a hired girl!" + +"No, I don't think he did _that_, Cornelia," said the mother with some +misgiving. "I presume he may have been a little touched up by your +pictures, and wanted to put me down about them----" + +"Oh, mother, mother, mother!" The girl broke into tears over the +agricultural implements. "They were the dust under his feet." + +"Why, Cornelia, how you talk!" + +"I wish _you_ wouldn't talk, mother! I've asked you a thousand times, +if I've asked you once, not to talk about me with anybody, and here you +go and tell everything that you can think of to a person that you never +saw before." + +"What did I tell him about you?" asked her mother, with the uncertainty +of ladies who say a great deal. + +"You told him how old I was almost to a day!" + +"Oh, well, that wasn't anything! I saw he'd got to know if he was to +give any opinion about your going on that was worth having." + +"It'll be all over town, to-morrow. Well, never mind! It's the last +time you'll ever have a chance to do it. I'll never, never, never touch +a pencil to draw with again! Never! You've done it _now_, mother! _I_ +don't care! I'll help you with your work, all you want, but don't ever +ask me to draw a single thing after this. I guess he wouldn't have much +to say about the style of a bonnet, or set of a dress, if it _was_ +wrong!" + +The girl swept out of the building with tragedy-queen strides that +refused to adjust themselves to the lazy, lounging pace of her mother, +and carried her homeward so swiftly that she had time to bang the front +gate and the front door, and her own room door and lock it, and be +crying on the bed with her face in the pillow, long before her mother +reached the house. The mother wore a face of unruffled serenity, and as +there was no one near to see, she relaxed her vigilance, and smiled +with luxurious indifference to the teeth she had lost. + + + + +V. + + +Ludlow found his friend Burton smoking on his porch when he came back +from the fair, and watching with half-shut eyes the dust that overhung +the street. Some of the farmers were already beginning to drive home, +and their wheels sent up the pulverous clouds which the western sun +just tinged with red; Burton got the color under the lower boughs of +the maple grove of his deep door-yard. + +"Well," he called out, in a voice expressive of the temperament which +kept him content with his modest fortune and his village circumstance, +when he might have made so much more and spent so much more in the +world outside, "did you get your picture?" + +Ludlow was only half-way up the walk from the street when the question +met him, and he waited to reach the piazza steps before he answered. + +"Oh, yes, I think I've got it." By this time Mrs. Burton had appeared +at the hall door-way, and stood as if to let him decide whether he +would come into the house, or join her husband outside. He turned aside +to take a chair near Burton's, tilted against the wall, but he +addressed himself to her. + +"Mrs. Burton, who is rather a long-strung, easy-going, good-looking, +middle-aged lady, with a daughter about fifteen years old, extremely +pretty and rather peppery, who draws?" + +Mrs. Burton at once came out, and sat sidewise in the hammock, facing +the two men. + +"How were they dressed?" + +Ludlow told as well as he could; he reserved his fancy of the girl's +being like a hollyhock. + +"Was the daughter pretty?" + +"Very pretty." + +"Dark?" + +"Yes, 'all that's best of dark and bright.'" + +"Were they both very graceful?" + +"Very graceful indeed." + +"Why it must be Mrs. Saunders. Where did you see them?" + +"In the Art Department." + +"Yes. She came to ask me whether I would exhibit some of Cornelia's +drawings, if I were she." + +"And you told her you would?" her husband asked, taking his pipe out +for the purpose. + +"Of course I did. That was what she wished me to tell her." + +Burton turned to Ludlow. "Had they taken many premiums?" + +"No; the premiums had been bestowed on the crazy quilts and the medley +pictures--what extraordinarily idiotic inventions!--and Miss Saunders +was tearing down her sketches in the next section. One of them slipped +through on the floor, and they came round after it to where I was." + +"And so you got acquainted with Mrs. Saunders?" said Mrs. Burton. + +"No. But I got intimate," said Ludlow. "I sympathized with her, and she +advised with me about her daughter's art-education." + +"What did you advise her to do?" asked Burton. + +"Not to have her art-educated." + +"Why, don't you think she has talent?" Mrs. Burton demanded, with a +touch of resentment. + +"Oh, yes. She has beauty, too. Nothing is commoner than the talent and +beauty of American girls. But they'd better trust to their beauty." + +"I don't think so," said Mrs. Burton, with spirit. + +"You can see how she's advised Mrs. Saunders," said Burton, winking the +eye next Ludlow. + +"Well, you mustn't be vexed with me, Mrs. Burton," Ludlow replied to +her. "I don't think she'll take my advice, especially as I put it in +the form of warning. I told her how hard the girl would have to work: +but I don't think she quite understood. I told her she had talent, too; +and she did understand that; there was something uncommon in the +child's work; something--different. Who _are_ they, Mrs. Burton?" + +"_Isn't_ there!" cried Mrs. Burton. "I'm glad you told the poor thing +that. I thought they'd take the premium. I was going to tell you about +her daughter. Mrs. Saunders must have been awfully disappointed." + +"She didn't seem to suffer much," Ludlow suggested. + +"No," Mrs. Burton admitted, "she doesn't suffer much about anything. If +she did she would have been dead long ago. First, her husband blown up +by his saw-mill boiler, and then one son killed in a railroad accident, +and another taken down with pneumonia almost the same day! And she goes +on, smiling in the face of death----" + +"And looking out that he doesn't see how many teeth she's lost," Burton +prompted. + +Ludlow laughed at the accuracy of the touch. + +Mrs. Burton retorted, "Why shouldn't she? Her good looks and her good +nature are about all she has left in the world, except this daughter." + +"Are they very poor?" asked Ludlow, gently. + +"Oh, nobody's _very_ poor in Pymantoning," said Mrs. Burton. "And Mrs. +Saunders has her business,--when she's a mind to work at it." + +"I suppose she has it, even when she hasn't a mind to work at it," said +Burton, making his pipe purr with a long, deep inspiration of +satisfaction. "I know I have mine." + +"What _is_ her business?" asked Ludlow. + +"Well, she's a dressmaker and milliner--when she _is_." Mrs. Burton +stated the fact with the effect of admitting it. "You mustn't suppose +that makes any difference. In a place like Pymantoning, she's 'as good +as anybody,' and her daughter has as high social standing. You can't +imagine how Arcadian we are out here." + +"Oh, yes, I can; I've lived in a village," said Ludlow. + +"A New England village, yes; but the lines are drawn just as hard and +fast there as they are in a city. You have to live in the West to +understand what equality is, and in a purely American population, like +this. You've got plenty of independence, in New England, but you +haven't got equality, and we _have_,--or used to have." Mrs. Burton +added the final words with apparent conscience. + +"Just saved your distance, Polly," said her husband. "We haven't got +equality now, any more than we've got buffalo. I don't believe we ever +had buffalo in this section; but we did have deer once; and when I was +a boy here, venison was three cents a pound, and equality cheaper yet. +When they cut off the woods the venison and the equality disappeared; +they always do when the woods are cut off." + +"There's enough of it left for all practical purposes, and Mrs. +Saunders moves in the first circles of Pymantoning," said Mrs. Burton. + +"When she _does_ move," said Burton. "She doesn't _like_ to move." + +"Well, she has the greatest taste, and if you can get her to do +anything for you your fortune's made. But it's a favor. She'll take a +thing that you've got home from the city, and that you're frantic +about, it's so bad, and smile over it a little, and touch it here and +there, and it comes out a miracle of style and becomingness. It's like +magic." + +"She _was_ charming," said Ludlow, in dreamy reminiscence. + +"_Isn't_ she?" Mrs. Burton demanded. "And her daughter gets all her +artistic talent from her. Mrs. Saunders _is_ an artist, though I don't +suppose you like to admit it of a dressmaker." + +"Oh, yes, I do," said Ludlow. "I don't see why a man or woman who +drapes the human figure in stuffs, isn't an artist as well as the man +or woman who drapes it in paint or clay." + +"Well, that's sense," Mrs. Burton began. + +"She didn't know you had any, Ludlow," her husband explained. + +Mrs. Burton did not regard him. "If she had any ambition she would be +anything--just like some other lazy-boots," and now she gave the large, +dangling congress gaiter of her husband a little push with the point of +her slipper, for purposes of identification, as the newspapers say. +"But the only ambition she's got is for her daughter, and she _is_ +proud of her, and she would spoil her if she could get up the energy. +She dotes on her, and Nie is fond of her mother, too. Do you think she +can ever do anything in art?" + +"If she were a boy, I should say yes; as she's a girl, I don't know," +said Ludlow. "The chances are against her." + +"Nature's against her, too," said Burton. + +"_Human_ nature ought to be for her, then," said Mrs. Burton. "If she +were your sister what should you wish her to be?" she asked Ludlow. + +"I should wish her to be"--Ludlow thought a moment and then +concluded--"happily married." + +"Well, that's a shame!" cried Mrs. Burton. + +Her husband laughed, while he knocked the ashes out of his pipe against +the edge of his chair-seat. "Rough on the holy estate of matrimony, +Polly." + +"Oh, pshaw! I believe as much in the holy estate of matrimony as +anybody, but I don't believe it's the begin-all or the end-all for a +woman, any more than it is for a man. What, Katy?" she spoke to a girl +who appeared and disappeared in the doorway. "Oh! Well, come in to +supper, now. I hope you have an appetite, Mr. Ludlow. Mr. Burton's such +a delicate eater, and I like to have _some_body keep me in +countenance." She suddenly put her hand on the back of her husband's +chair, and sprung it forward from its incline against the wall, with a +violence that bounced him fearfully, and extorted a roar of protest +from him. + +They were much older than Ludlow, and they permitted themselves the +little rowdy freedoms that good-natured married people sometimes use, +as fearlessly in his presence as if he were a grown-up nephew. They +prized him as a discovery of their own, for they had stumbled on him +one day before any one else had found him out, when he was sketching at +Fontainebleau. They liked the look of his picture, as they viewed it at +a decent remove over his shoulder, and after they got by Burton +proposed to go back and kill the fellow on account of the solemn +coxcombery of his personal appearance. His wife said: "Well, ask him +what he'll take for his picture, first," and Burton returned and said +with brutal directness, while he pointed at the canvas with his stick, +"_Combien?_" When Ludlow looked round up at him and answered with a +pleasant light in his eye, "Well, I don't know exactly. What'll you +give?" Burton spared his life, and became his friend. He called his +wife to him, and they bought the picture, and afterwards they went to +Ludlow's lodging, for he had no studio, and conscientiously painted in +the open air, and bought others. They got the pictures dog cheap, as +Burton said, for Ludlow was just beginning then, and his reputation +which has never since become cloud-capt, was a tender and lowly plant. +They made themselves like a youngish aunt and uncle to him, and had him +with them all they could while they stayed in Paris. When they came +home they brought the first impressionistic pictures ever seen in the +West; at Pymantoning, the village cynic asked which was right side up, +and whether he was to stand on his head or not to get them in range. +Ludlow remained in France, which he maintained had the only sun for +impressionism; and then he changed his mind all at once, and under an +impulse of sudden patriotism, declared for the American sky, and the +thin, crystalline, American air. His faith included American subjects, +and when, after his arrival in New York, Burton wrote to claim a visit +from him and ironically proposed the trotting-match at the County Fair +as an attraction for his pencil, Ludlow remembered the trotting-matches +he had seen in his boyhood, and came out to Pymantoning with a +seriousness of expectation that alarmed and then amused his friends. + +He was very glad that he had come, and that night, after the supper +which lasted well into the early autumn lamp-light, he went out and +walked the village streets under the September moon, seeing his picture +everywhere before him, and thinking his young, exultant thoughts. The +maples were set so thick along the main street that they stood like a +high, dark wall on either side, and he looked up at the sky as from the +bottom of a chasm. The village houses lurked behind their door-yard +trees, with breadths of autumnal bloom in the gardens beside them. +Within their shadowy porches, or beside their gates, was + + "The delight of happy laughter, + The delight of low replies," + +hushing itself at his approach, and breaking out again at his retreat. +The air seemed full of love, and in the midst of his proud, gay hopes, +he felt smitten with sudden isolation, such as youth knows in the +presence of others' passion. He walked back to Burton's rather +pensively, and got up to his room and went to bed after as little stay +for talk with his hosts as he could make decent; he did not like to +break with his melancholy. + +He was roused from his first sleep by the sound of singing, which +seemed to stop with his waking. There came a confused murmur of girls' +and young men's voices, and Ludlow could see from his open window the +dim shapes of the serenaders in the dark of the trees below. Then they +were still, and all at once the silence was filled with a rich +contralto note, carrying the song, till the whole choir of voices took +up the burden. Nothing prettier could have happened anywhere in the +world. Ludlow hung rapt upon the music till Burton flung up his window, +as if to thank the singers. They stopped at the sound, and with gay +shouts and shrieks, and a medley of wild laughter, skurried away into +the farther darkness, where Ludlow heard them begin their serenade +again under distant windows as little localized as any space of the +sky. + + + + +VI. + + +Ludlow went back to New York and took up his work with vigor and with +fervor. The picture of the County Fair, which he exhibited at the +American Artists', ran a gauntlet of criticism in which it was +belabored at once for its unimaginative vulgarity and its fantastic +unreality; then it returned to his studio and remained unsold, while +the days, weeks, months and years went by and left each their fine +trace on him. His purposes dropped away, mostly unfulfilled, as he grew +older and wiser, but his dreams remained and he was still rich in a +vast future. His impressionism was somewhat modified; he offered his +palette less frequently to the public; he now and then permitted a +black object to appear in his pictures; his purples and greens were +less aggressive. His moustache had grown so thick that it could no +longer be brushed up at the points with just the effect he desired, and +he suffered it to branch straight across his cheeks; his little dot of +an imperial had become lost in the beard which he wore so +conscientiously trimmed to a point that it might be described as +religiously pointed. He was now twenty-seven. + +At sixteen Cornelia Saunders had her first love-affair. It was with a +young man who sold what he called art-goods by sample--satin banners, +gilt rolling-pins, brass disks and keramics; he had permitted himself +to speak to her on the train coming over from the Junction, where she +took the cars for Pymantoning one afternoon after a day's shopping with +her mother in Lakeland. It did not last very long, and in fact it +hardly survived the brief stay which the young man made in Pymantoning, +where his want of success in art-goods was probably owing to the fact +that he gave his whole time to Cornelia, or rather Cornelia's mother, +whom he found much more conversable; he played upon the banjo for her, +and he danced a little clog-dance in her parlor, which was also her +shop, to the accompaniment of his own whistling, first setting aside +the bonnet-trees with their scanty fruitage of summer hats, and pushing +the show-table against the wall. "Won't hurt 'em a mite," he reassured +her, and he struck her as a careful as well as accomplished young man. +His passion for Cornelia lingered a while in letters, which he proposed +in parting, and then, about six months later, Mrs. Saunders received +the newspaper announcement of his marriage to Miss Tweety Byers of +Lakeland. There were "No Cards," but Mrs. Saunders made out, with Mrs. +Burton's help, that Tweety was the infantile for the pet name of +Sweety; and the marriage seemed a fit union for one so warm and true as +the young traveller in art-goods. + +Mrs. Saunders was a good deal surprised, but she did not suffer keenly +from the disappointment which she had innocently done her best to bring +upon her daughter. Cornelia, who had been the passive instrument of her +romance, did not suffer from it at all, having always objected to the +thickness of the young man's hands, and to the early baldness which +gave him the Shakespearian brow he had so little use for. She laughed +his memory to scorn, and employed the episode as best she could in +quelling her mother's simple trust of passing strangers. They worked +along together, in the easy, unambitious village fashion, and kept +themselves in the average comfort, while the time went by and Cornelia +had grown from a long, lean child to a tall and stately young girl, who +carried herself with so much native grace and pride that she had very +little attention from the village youth. She had not even a girl +friendship, and her chief social resource was in her intimacy at the +Burtons. She borrowed books of them, and read a good deal; and when she +was seventeen she rubbed up her old studies and got a teacher's +certificate for six months, and taught a summer term in a district at +Burnt Pastures. She came home in the fall, and when she called at the +Burtons' to get a book, as usual, Mrs. Burton said, "Nelie, you're not +feeling very well, are you? Somehow you looked fagged." + +"Well, I do feel queer," said the girl. "I seem to be in a kind of +dream. It--scares me. I'm afraid I'm going to be sick." + +"Oh, I guess not," Mrs. Burton answered comfortably. "You're just tired +out. How did you like your school?" + +"I hated it," said the girl, with a trembling chin and wet eyes. "I +don't believe I'm fit for teaching. I won't try it any more; I'll stay +at home and help mother." + +"You ought to keep up your drawing," said Mrs. Burton in general +admonition. "Do you draw any now?" + +"Nothing much," said the girl. + +"I should think you would, to please your mother. Don't you care +anything for it yourself?" + +"Yes; but I haven't the courage I had when I thought I knew it all. I +don't think I should ever amount to anything. It would be a waste of +time." + +"I don't think so," said Mrs. Burton. "I believe you could be a great +artist." + +The girl laughed. "What ever became of that painter who visited you +year before last at fair time?" + +"Mr. Ludlow? Oh, he's in New York. _He_ thought your sketches were +splendid, Nelie." + +"He said the girls half-killed themselves there studying art." + +"Did he?" demanded Mrs. Burton with a note of wrath in her voice. + +"Mm. He told mother so that day." + +"He had no business to say such a thing before you. Was that what +discouraged you?" + +"Oh, I don't know. I got discouraged. Of course, I should like to +please mother. How much do you suppose it would cost a person to live +in New York? I don't mean take a room and board yourself; I shouldn't +like to do that; but everything included." + +"I don't know, indeed, Nelie. Jim always kept the accounts when we were +there, and we stayed at the Fifth Avenue Hotel." + +"Do you suppose it would be twice as much as it is here? Five dollars a +week?" + +"Yes, I'm afraid it would," Mrs. Burton admitted. + +"I've got sixty-five dollars from my school. I suppose it would keep me +three months in New York, if I was careful. But I'm not going to throw +it away on any such wild scheme as that. I know _that_ much." + +They talked away from the question, and then talked back to it several +times, after they had both seemed to abandon it. At last Mrs. Burton +said, "Why don't you let me write to Mr. Ludlow, Nelie, and ask him all +about it?" + +The girl jumped to her feet in a fright. "If you do, Mrs. Burton, I'll +kill myself! No, I didn't mean to say that. But I'll never speak to you +again. Now you won't really, will you?" + +"No, I won't, Nelie, if you don't want me to; but I don't see why---- +Why, bless the child!" + +Mrs. Burton sprang forward and caught the girl, who was reeling as if +she were going to fall. "Katy! Katy! Bring some water here, quick!" + +When they had laid Cornelia on a sofa and restored her from her faint, +Mrs. Burton would not let her try to rise. She sent out to Burton, who +was reading a novel in the mild forenoon air under the crimson maples, +and made him get the carryall and take Cornelia home in it. They +thought they would pretend that they were out for a drive, and were +merely dropping her at her mother's door; but no ruse was necessary. +Mrs. Saunders tranquilly faced the fact; she said she thought the child +hadn't been herself since she got back from her school, and she guessed +she had better have the doctor now. + + + + +VII. + + +It was toward the end of January before Cornelia was well enough to be +about in the old way, after her typhoid fever. Once she was so low that +the rumor of her death went out; but when this proved false it was +known for a good sign, and no woman, at least, was surprised when she +began to get well. She was delirious part of the time, and then she +raved constantly about Ludlow, and going to New York to study art. It +was a mere superficial effect from her talk with Mrs. Burton just +before she was taken down with the fever; but it was pathetic, all the +same, to hear her pleading with him, quarrelling, protesting that she +was strong enough, and that she was not afraid but that she should get +through all right if he would only tell her how to begin. "Now you just +tell me that, tell me that, tell me that! It's the _place_ that I can't +find. If I can get to the right door! But it won't open! It won't open! +Oh, dear! What _shall_ I do!" + +Mrs. Burton, who heard this go on through the solemn hours of night, +thought that if Ludlow could only hear it he would be careful how he +ever discouraged any human being again. It was as much as her husband +could do to keep her from writing to him, and making the girl's fever a +matter of personal reproach to him; but she refrained, and when +Cornelia got up from it she was so changed that Mrs. Burton was glad +she had never tried to involve any one else in her anxieties about her. + +Not only the fever had burned itself out, but Cornelia's temperament +seemed for awhile to have been consumed in the fire. She came out of it +more like her mother. She was gentler than she used to be, and +especially gentle and good to her mother; and she had not only grown to +resemble her in a greater tranquillity and easy-goingness, but to have +come into her ambitions and desires. The change surprised Mrs. Saunders +a good deal; up to this time it had always surprised her that Cornelia +should not have been at all like her. She sometimes reflected, however, +that if you came to that, Cornelia's father had never been at all like +her, either. + +It was only a passing phase of the girl's evolution. With the return of +perfect health and her former strength, she got back her old energetic +self, but of another quality and in another form. Probably she would +have grown into the character she now took on in any case; but +following her convalescence as it did, it had a more dramatic effect. +She began to review her studies and her examination papers before the +doctor knew it, and when the county examiners met in June she was ready +for them, and got a certificate authorizing her to teach for a year. +With this she need not meet the poor occasions of any such forlorn +end-of-the-earth as Burnt Pastures. She had an offer of the school at +Hartley's Mills, and she taught three terms there, and brought home a +hundred and fifty dollars at the end. All through the last winter she +drew, more or less, and she could see better than any one else that she +had not fallen behind in her art, but after having let it drop for a +time, had taken it up with fresh power and greater skill. She had come +to see things better than she used, and she had learned to be faithful +to what she saw, which is the great matter in all the arts. + +She had never formulated this fact, even if she knew it; and Mrs. +Burton was still further from guessing what it was that made Cornelia's +sketches so much more attractive than they were, when the girl let her +look at them, in one of her proud, shy confidences. She said, "I do +wish Mr. Ludlow could see these, Nelie." + +"Do you think he would be very much excited?" asked the girl, with the +sarcastic humor which had risen up in her to be one of the reliefs of +her earlier intensity. + +"He ought to be," said Mrs. Burton. "You know he _did_ admire your +drawings, Nelie; even those you had at the fair, that time." + +"Did he?" returned the girl, carelessly. "What did he say?" + +"Well, he said that if you were a boy there couldn't be any doubt about +you." + +Cornelia laughed. "That was a pretty safe kind of praise. I'm not +likely ever to be a boy." She rose up from where they were sitting +together, and went to put her drawings away in her room. When she came +back, she said, "It would be fun to show him, some day, that even so +low down a creature as a girl could be something." + +"I wish you would, Nie," said Mrs. Burton, "I just _wish_ you would. +Why don't you go to New York, this winter, and study! Why don't you +make her, Mrs. Saunders?" + +"Who? Me?" said Mrs. Saunders, who sat by, in an indolent abeyance. +"Oh! I ain't allowed to open my mouth any more." + +"Well," said Cornelia, "don't be so ungrammatical, then, when you do it +without being allowed, mother." + +Mrs. Saunders laughed in lazy enjoyment. "One thing I know; if I had my +way she'd have been in New York studying long ago, instead of fooling +away her time out here, school-teaching." + +"And where would you have been, mother?" + +"Me?" said Mrs. Saunders again, incorrigibly. "Oh, I guess I should +have been somewhere!" + +"Well, I'll tell you what," Mrs. Burton broke in, "Nie must go, and +that's all about it. I know from what Mr. Ludlow said that he believes +she could be an artist. She would have to work hard, but I don't call +teaching school _play_, exactly." + +"Indeed it isn't!" said Mrs. Saunders. "I'd sooner set all day at the +machine myself, and dear knows that's trying enough!" + +"I'm not afraid of the hard work," said Cornelia. + +"What are you afraid of, then?" demanded her mother. "Afraid of +failing?" + +"No; of succeeding," answered Cornelia, perversely. + +"_I_ can't make the child out," said Mrs. Saunders, with apparent +pleasure in the mystery. + +Cornelia went on, at least partially, to explain herself. "I mean, +succeeding in the way women seem to succeed. They make me sick!" + +"Oh," said her mother, with sarcasm that could not sustain itself even +by a smile letting Mrs. Burton into the joke, "going to be a Rosa +Bonnhure?" + +Cornelia scorned this poor attempt of her mother. "If I can't succeed +as men succeed, and be a great painter, and not just a great _woman_ +painter, I'd rather be excused altogether. Even Rosa Bonheur: I don't +believe _her_ horses would have been considered so wonderful if a man +had done them. I guess that's what Mr. Ludlow meant, and I guess he was +right. I guess if a girl wants to turn out an artist she'd better start +by being a boy." + +"I guess," said Mrs. Burton, with admiring eyes full of her beauty, +"that if Mr. Ludlow could see you now, he'd be very sorry to have you a +boy!" + +Cornelia blushed the splendid red of a brunette. "There it is, Mrs. +Burton! That's what's always in everybody's mind about a girl when she +wants to do something. It's what a magnificent match she'll make by her +painting or singing or acting! And if the poor fool only knew, she +needn't draw or sing or act, to do that." + +"A person would think you'd been through the wars, Cornelia," said her +mother. + +"I don't care! It's a shame!" + +"It _is_ a shame, Nelie," said Mrs. Burton, soothingly; and she added, +unguardedly, "and I _told_ Mr. Ludlow so, when he spoke about a girl's +being happily married, as if there was no other happiness for a girl." + +"Oh! _He_ thinks that, does he?" + +"No, of course, he doesn't. He has a very high ideal of women; but he +was just running on, in the usual way. He told afterwards how hard the +girl art-students work in New York, and go ahead of the young men, some +of them--where they have the strength. The only thing is that so few of +them have the strength. That's what he meant." + +"What do you think, mother?" asked the girl with an abrupt turn toward +her. "Do you think I'd break down?" + +"I guess if you didn't break down teaching school, that you hated, you +won't break down studying art, when you love it so." + +"Well," Cornelia said, with the air of putting an end to the audience, +"I guess there's no great hurry about it." + +She let her mother follow Mrs. Burton out, recognizing with a smile of +scornful intelligence the ladies' wish to have the last word about her +to themselves. + + + + +VIII. + + +"I don't know as I ever saw her let herself go so far before," said +Mrs. Saunders, leaning on the top of the closed gate, and speaking +across it to Mrs. Burton on the outside of the fence. "I guess she's +thinking about it, pretty seriously. She's got money enough, and more +than enough." + +"Well," said Mrs. Burton, "I'm going to write to Mr. Ludlow about it, +as soon as I get home, and I know I can get him to say something +that'll decide her." + +"So do!" cried Mrs. Saunders, delighted. + +She lingered awhile talking of other things, so as to enable herself to +meet Cornelia with due unconsciousness when she returned to her. + +"Have you been talking me over all this time, mother?" the girl asked. + +"We didn't hardly say a word about you," said her mother, and now she +saw what a good thing it was that she had staid and talked +impersonalities with Mrs. Burton. + +"Well, one thing I know," said the girl, "if she gets that Mr. Ludlow +to encourage me, I'll never go near New York in the world." + +Mrs. Saunders escaped into the next room, and answered back from that +safe distance, "I guess you'd better get _her_ to tell you what she's +going to do." + +When she returned, the girl stood looking dreamily out of the little +crooked panes of the low window. She asked, with her back to her +mother, "What would _you_ do, if I went?" + +"Oh, I should get along," said Mrs. Saunders with the lazy piety which +had never yet found Providence to fail it. "I should get Miss Snively +to go in with me, here. She ain't making out very well, alone, and she +could be company to me in more ways than one." + +"Yes," said the girl, in a deep sigh. "I thought of her." She faced +about. + +"Why, land, child!" cried her mother, "what's the matter?" + +Cornelia's eyes were streaming with tears, and the passion in her heart +was twisting her face with its anguish. She flung her arms round her +mother's neck, and sobbed on her breast. "Oh, I'm going, I'm going, and +you don't seem to care whether I go or stay, and it'll _kill_ me to +leave you." + +Mrs. Saunders smiled across the tempest of grief in her embrace, at her +own tranquil image in the glass, and took it into the joke. "Well, you +ain't going to leave this minute," she said, smoothing the girl's black +hair. "And I don't really care if you never go, Nie. You mustn't go on +my account." + +"Don't you want me to?" + +"Not unless you do." + +"And you don't care whether I'm ever an artist or not?" + +"What good is your being an artist going to do _me_?" asked her mother, +still with a joking eye on herself in the mirror. + +"And I'm perfectly free to go or to stay, as far as your wish is +concerned?" + +"Well!" said Mrs. Saunders, with insincere scorn of the question. + +The girl gave her a fierce hug; she straightened herself up, and dashed +the water from her eyes. "Well, then," she said, "I'll see. But promise +me one thing, mother." + +"What is it?" + +"That you won't ask me a single thing about it, from this out, if I +_never_ decide!" + +"Well, I won't, Nie. I promise you that. _I_ don't want to drive you to +anything. And I guess you know ten times as well what you want to do, +as I do, anyway. I ain't going to worry you." + +Three weeks later, just before fair time, Cornelia went to see Mrs. +Burton. It was warm, and Mrs. Burton brought out a fan for her on the +piazza. + +"Oh, I'm not hot," said Cornelia. "Mrs. Burton, I've made up my mind to +go to New York this winter, and study art." + +"I _knew_ you would, Nie!" Mrs. Burton exulted. + +"Yes. I've thought it all out. I've got the money, now. I keep wanting +to paint, and I don't know whether I can or not, and the only way is to +go and find out. It'll be easy enough to come home. I'll keep money +enough to pay my way back." + +"Yes," said Mrs. Burton, "it's the only way. But I guess you'll find +out you can paint fast enough. It's a pretty good sign you can, if you +want to." + +"Oh, I don't know. Some girls want to write poetry awfully, and can't. +Mrs. Burton," she broke off, with a nervous laugh, "I don't suppose you +expect that Mr. Ludlow out to the fair this year?" + +"No, Nelie, I don't," said Mrs. Burton, with tender reluctance. + +"Because," said the girl with another laugh, "he might save me a trip +to New York, if he could see my drawings." Something, she did not know +what, in Mrs. Burton's manner, made her ask: "Have you heard from him +lately? Perhaps _he's_ given it up, too!" + +"Oh, no!" sighed Mrs. Burton, with a break from her cheerfulness with +Cornelia, which set its voluntary character in evidence to the girl's +keen, young perception. "But he seemed to be rather discouraged about +the prospects of artists when he wrote." She was afraid Cornelia might +ask her when he had written. "He seemed to think the ranks were very +full. He's a very changeable person. He's always talked, before now, +about there being plenty of room at the top." + +"Well, that's where I expect to be," said the girl, smiling but +trembling. She turned the talk, and soon rose to go, ignoring to the +last Mrs. Burton's forced efforts to recur to her plan of studying art +in New York. Now she said: "Mrs. Burton, there's one thing I'd like to +ask you," and she lifted her eyes upon her with a suddenness that +almost made Mrs. Burton jump. + +"What is it, Nelie?" + +"You've always been so good to me--and--and taken such an interest, +that I'm afraid--I thought you might try--I want you to promise me you +won't write to Mr. Ludlow about me, or ask him to do the least thing, +for me!" + +"I won't, I won't indeed, Nelie!" Mrs. Burton promised with grateful +perfervor. + +"Because," said the girl, taking her skirt in her left hand, +preparatory to lifting it for her descent of the piazza steps, "now +that I've made up my mind, I don't want to be discouraged, and I don't +want to be helped. If I can't do for myself, I won't be done _for_." + +After she got down through the maples, and well out of the gate, Burton +came and stood in the hall door-way, with his pipe in his mouth. "Saved +your distance, Polly, as usual; saved your distance." + +"What would _you_ have done?" retorted his wife. + +"I should have told her that I'd just got a letter from Ludlow this +morning, and that he begged and entreated me by everything I held dear, +to keep the poor girl from coming to New York, and throwing away her +time and health and money." + +"You wouldn't!" cried Mrs. Burton. "You wouldn't have done anything of +the kind. It would have made her perfectly hate him." + +Burton found his pipe out. He lighted a match and hollowed his hands +over it above the pipe, to keep it from the draught. "Well," he said, +avoiding the point in controversy, "why _shouldn't_ she perfectly hate +him?" + + + + +IX. + + +September was theoretically always a very busy month with Mrs. +Saunders. She believed that she devoted it to activities which she +called her fall work, and that she pressed forward in the fulfilments +of these duties with a vigor inspired by the cool, clear weather. But +in reality there was not much less folding of the hands with her in +September than there was in July. She was apt, on the coolest and +clearest September day, to drop into a chair with a deep drawn "_Oh_, +hum!" after the fatigue of bringing in an apronful of apples, or +driving the hens away from her chrysanthemums, and she spent a good +deal of time wondering how, with all she had to do, she was ever going +to get those flowers in before the frost caught them. At one of these +times, sitting up slim, graceful and picturesque, in the +feather-cushioned rocker-lounge, and fanning her comely face with her +shade-hat, it occurred to her to say to Cornelia, sewing hard beside +the window, "I guess you won't see them in blossom _this_ Christmas, +Nie." + +"Not unless you cut them at the roots and send them to me by mail to +look at," said the girl. + +Her mother laughed easily. "Well, I must really take hold and help you, +or you'll _never_ get away. I've put off everybody else's work, till +it's perfectly scandalous, and I'm afraid they'll bring the roof about +my ears, and yet I seem to be letting you do all your sewing. Well, one +thing, I presume I hate to have you go so!" + +"Mother!" cried the girl, drawing out her needle to the full length of +her thread before she let her hand drop nervelessly at her side, and +she fell back to look fixedly at Mrs. Saunders. "If _that's_ the way +you feel!" + +"I don't! I want you to go just as much as ever I did. But looking at +you there, just against the window, that way, I got to thinking you +wouldn't be there a great while; and----" Mrs. Saunders caught her +breath, and was mute a moment before she gave way and began to whimper. +From the force of habit she tried to whimper with one side of her +mouth, as she smiled, to keep her missing teeth from showing; and at +the sight of this characteristic effort, so familiar and so full of +long association, Cornelia's heart melted within her, and she ran to +her mother, and pulled her head down on her breast and covered the +unwhimpering cheek with kisses. + +"Don't you suppose I think of that, too, mother? And when you go round +the room, or out in the yard, I just keep following you as if I was +magnetized, and I can see you with my eyes shut as well as I can with +them open; and I _know_ how I shall feel when that's all I've got of +you! But I'll soon be back! Why I'll be here in June again! And it's no +use, _now_. I've _got_ to go." + +"Oh, yes," said her mother, pushing herself free, and entering upon so +prolonged a search for her handkerchief that her tears had almost time +to dry without it before she found it. "But that don't make it any +easier, child." + +They had agreed from the time Cornelia made up her mind to go, and they +had vowed the Burtons to secrecy, that they were not to tell any one +till just before she started; but it was not in Mrs. Saunders's nature +or the nature of things, that she should keep her part of the +agreement. She was so proud of Cornelia's going to study art in New +York, and going on her own money, that she would have told all her +customers that she was going, even if it had not proved such a good +excuse for postponing and delaying the work they brought her. + +It was all over town before the first week was out, and the fact had +been canvassed in and out of the presence of the principals, with much +the same frankness. What Cornelia had in excess of a putting-down pride +her mother correspondingly lacked; what the girl forbade, Mrs. Saunders +invited by her manner, and there were not many people, or at least many +ladies, in Pymantoning, who could not put their hands on their hearts +and truly declare that they had spoken their minds as freely to Mrs. +Saunders as they had to anybody. + +As the time drew near Mrs. Burton begged to be allowed to ask Mr. +Ludlow about a boarding-place for Cornelia; and to this Cornelia +consented on condition that he should be strictly prohibited from +taking any more trouble than simply writing the address on a piece of +paper. When Mrs. Burton brought it she confessed that Mr. Ludlow seemed +to have so far exceeded his instructions as to have inquired the price +of board in a single room. + +"I'm afraid, Nelie, it's more than you expected. But everything _is_ +very dear in New York, and Mr. Ludlow thought it was cheap. There's no +fire in the room, even at that, but if you leave the door open when +you're out, it heats nicely from the hall. It's over the door, four +flights up; it's what they call a side room." + +"How much is it, Mrs. Burton?" Cornelia asked, steadily; but she held +her breath till the answer came. + +"It's seven dollars a week." + +"Well, the land!" said Mrs. Saunders, for all comment on the +extortionate figure. + +For a moment Cornelia did not say anything. Then she quietly remarked, +"I can be home all the sooner," and she took the paper which Ludlow had +written the address on; she noticed that it smelt of tobacco smoke. + +"He said you could easily find your way from the Grand Central Depot by +the street cars; it's almost straight. He's written down on the back +which cars you take. You give your check to the baggage expressman that +comes aboard the train before you get in, and then you don't have the +least trouble. He says there are several girl art-students in the same +house, and you'll soon feel at home. He says if you feel the least +timid about getting in alone, he'll come with a lady friend of his, to +meet you, and she'll take you to your boarding-house." + +Mrs. Burton escaped with rather more than her life from the +transmission of this offer. Cornelia even said, "I'm very much obliged +to him, I'm sure. But I shouldn't wish to trouble him, thank you. I +won't feel the least timid." + +But her mother followed Mrs. Burton out to the gate, as usual. "I +guess," Mrs. Saunders explained, "she hated to have him make so much +to-do about it. What makes him want to bring a lady friend to meet her? +Somebody he's engaged to?" + +"Well, that's what I wondered, at first," said Mrs. Burton. "But then +when I came to think how very different the customs are in New York, I +came to the conclusion that he did it on Cornelia's account. If he was +to take her to the boarding-house himself, they might think he was +engaged to _her_." + +"Well!" said Mrs. Saunders. + +"You may be sure it's because he's good and thoughtful about it, and +wants her not to have any embarrassment." + +"Oh, I guess he's all right," said Mrs. Saunders. "But who'd ever have +thought of having to take such precautions? I shouldn't think life was +worth having on such terms, if _I_ was a girl." + +She told Cornelia about this strange social ceremony of chaperonage, +which now for the first time practically concerned them. + + + + +X. + + +The night began to fall an hour before Cornelia's train reached New +York, and it drew into the station, through the whirl and dance of +parti-colored lights everywhere. + +The black porter of the sleeping-ear caught up her bag and carried it +out for her, as if he were going to carry it indefinitely; and outside +she stood letting him hold it, while she looked about her, scared and +bewildered, and the passengers hurrying by, pushed and bumped against +her. When she collected her wits sufficiently to take it from him, she +pressed on with the rest up toward the front of the station where the +crowd frayed out in different directions. At the open doorway giving on +the street she stopped, and stood holding her bag, and gazed fearfully +out on a line of wild men on the curbstone; they all seemed to be +stretching their hands out to her, and they rattled and clamored: "Keb? +A keb, a keb, a keb? Want a keb? Keb here! Keb? A keb, a keb, a keb!" +They were kept back by a policeman who prevented them from falling upon +the passengers, and restored them to order when they yielded by the +half-dozen to the fancy that some one had ordered a cab, and started +off in the direction of their vehicles, and then rushed back so as not +to lose other chances. The sight of Cornelia standing bag in hand +there, seemed to drive them to a frenzy of hope; several newsboys, +eager to share their prosperity, rushed up and offered her the evening +papers. + +Cornelia strained forward from the doorway and tried to make out, in +the kaleidoscopic pattern of lights, which was the Fourth Avenue car; +the street was full of cars and carts and carriages, all going every +which way, with a din of bells, and wheels and hoofs that was as if +crushed to one clangerous mass by the superior uproar of the railroad +trains coming and going on a sort of street-roof overhead. A sickening +odor came from the mud of the gutters and the horses and people, and as +if a wave of repulsion had struck against every sense in her, the girl +turned and fled from the sight and sound and smell of it all into the +ladies' waiting-room at her right. + +She knew about that room from Mrs. Burton, who had said she could go in +there, and fix her hair if it had got tumbled, when she came off the +train. But it had been so easy to keep everything just right in the +nice dressing-room on the sleeper that she had expected to step out of +the station and take a Fourth Avenue car without going into the +ladies-room. She found herself the only person in it, except a +comfortable, friendly-looking, middle-aged woman, who seemed to be in +charge of the place, and was going about with a dust-cloth in her hand. +She had such a home-like air, and it was so peaceful there, after all +that uproar outside, that Cornelia could hardly keep back the tears, +though she knew it was silly, and kept saying so to herself under her +breath. + +She put her hand-bag down, and went and stood at one of the windows, +trying to make up her mind to venture out; and then she began to move +back and forth from one window to the other. It must have been this +effect of restlessness and anxiety that made the janitress speak to her +at last: "Expecting friends to meet you?" + +Cornelia turned round and took a good look at the janitress. She +decided from her official as well as her personal appearance that she +might be trusted, as least provisionally. It had been going through her +mind there at the windows what a fool she was to refuse to let Mr. +Ludlow come to meet her with that friend of his, and she had been +helplessly feigning that she had not refused, and that he was really +coming, but was a little late. She was in the act of accepting his +apology for the delay when the janitress spoke to her, and she said: "I +don't know whether I'd better wait any longer. I was looking for a +Fourth Avenue car." + +"Well, you couldn't hardly miss one," said the janitress. "They're +going all the time. Stranger in the city?" + +"Yes, I am," Cornelia admitted; she thought she had better admit it. + +"Well," said the janitress, "if I was you I'd wait for my friends a +while longer. It's after dark, now, and if they come here and find you +gone, they'll be uneasy, won't they?" + +"Well," said Cornelia, and she sank submissively into a seat. + +The janitress sat down too. "Not but what it's safe enough, and you +needn't be troubled, if they don't come. You can go half an hour later +just as well. My! I've had people sit here all day and wait. The things +I've seen here, well, if they were put into a story you couldn't hardly +believe them. I had a poor woman come in here one morning last week +with a baby in her arms, and three little children hanging round her, +to wait for her husband; and she waited till midnight, and he didn't +come. I could have told her first as well as last that he wasn't ever +coming; I knew it from the kind of a letter he wrote her, and that she +fished up out of her pocket to show me, so as to find whether she had +come to the right place to wait, or not, but I couldn't bear to do it; +and I did for her and the children as well as I could, and when it came +to it, about twelve, I coaxed her to go home, and come again in the +morning. She didn't come back again; I guess she began to suspect +something herself." + +"Why, don't you suppose he ever meant to come?" Cornelia asked, +tremulously. + +"_I_ don't know," said the janitress. "I didn't tell _her_ so. I've had +all kinds of homeless folks come in here, that had lost their +pocket-books, or never had any, and little tots of children, with +papers pinned on to tell me who they were expecting, and I've had 'em +here on my hands till I had to shut up at night." + +"And what did you do then?" Cornelia began to be anxious about her own +fate, in case she should not get away before the janitress had to shut +up. + +"Well, some I had to put into the street, them that were used to it; +and then there are homes of all kinds for most of 'em; old ladies' +homes, and young girls' homes, and destitute females' homes, and +children's homes, where they can go for the night, and all I've got to +do is to give an order. It isn't as bad as you'd think, when you first +come to the city; I came here from Connecticut." + +Cornelia thought she might respond so far as to say, "I'm from Ohio," +and the janitress seemed to appreciate the confidence. + +She said, "Not on your way to the White House, I suppose? There _are_ +so many Presidents from your State. Well, I knew you were not from near +New York, anywhere. I _do_ have so many different sorts of folks coming +in here, and I have to get acquainted with so many of 'em whether or +no. Lots of foreigners, for one thing, and men blundering in, as well +as women. They think it's a ticket-office, and want to buy tickets of +me, and I have to direct 'em where. It's surprising how bright they +are, oftentimes. The Irish are the hardest to get pointed right; the +Italians are quick; and the Chinese! My, they're the brightest of all. +If a Chinaman comes in for a ticket up the Harlem road, all I've got to +do is to set my hand so, and _so_!" She faced south and set her hand +westward; then she faced west, and set her hand northward. "They +understand in a minute, and they're off like a flash." + +As if she had done now all that sympathy demanded for Cornelia, the +janitress went about some work in another part of the room and left the +girl to herself. But Cornelia knew that she was keeping a friendly eye +on her, and in the shelter of her presence, she tried to gather courage +to make that start into the street alone, which she must finally make +and which she was so foolish to keep postponing. She had written to the +landlady of her boarding house that she should arrive on such a day, at +such an hour; and here was the day, and she was letting the hour go by, +and very likely the landlady would give her room to some one else. Or, +if the expressman who took her check on the train, should get there +with her trunk first, the landlady might refuse to take it. Cornelia +did not know how people acted about such things in New York. She ought +to go, and she tried to rise; but she was morally so unable that it was +as if she were physically unable. + +People came and went; some of them more than once, and Cornelia began +to feel that they noticed her and recognized her, but still she could +not move. Suddenly a figure appeared at the door, the sight of which +armed her with the power of flight. She knew that it was Ludlow, from +the photograph he had lately sent Mrs. Burton, with the pointed beard +and the branching moustache which he had grown since they met last, and +she jumped up to rush past him where he stood peering sharply round at +the different faces in the room, and finally letting his eyes rest in +eager question on hers. + +He came towards her, and then it was too late to escape. "Miss +Saunders? _Oh_, I'm so glad! I've been out of town, and I've only just +got Mrs. Burton's telegram. Have I kept you waiting long?" + +"Not very," said Cornelia. She might have said that he had not kept her +waiting at all; the time that she had waited, without being kept by +him, was now like no time at all; but she could not say anything more, +and she wished to cry, she felt so glad and safe in his keeping. He +caught up her bag, and she followed him out, with a blush over her +shoulder for the janitress, who smiled after her with mistaken +knowingness. But this was at least her self-delusion, and Cornelia had +an instant in the confusion when it seemed as if Ludlow's coming had +somehow annulled the tacit deceit she had practised in letting the +janitress suppose she expected some one. + +Ludlow kept talking to her all the way in the horse-car, but she could +find only the briefest and dryest answers to his friendly questions +about her mother and the Burtons; and all Pymantoning; and she could +not blame him for taking such a hasty leave of her at her +boarding-house that he almost flew down the steps before the door +closed upon her. + +She knew that she had disgusted him; and she hinted at this in the +letter of scolding gratitude which she wrote to Mrs. Burton before she +slept, for the trick she had played her. After all, though, she +reasoned, she need not be so much troubled: he had done it for Mrs. +Burton, and not for her, and he had not thought it worth while to bring +a chaperon. To be sure, he had no time for that; but there was +something in it all which put Cornelia back to the mere child she was +when they first met in the Fair House at Pymantoning; she kept seeing +herself angry and ill-mannered and cross to her mother, and it was as +if he saw her so, too. She resented that, for she knew that she was +another person now, and she tingled with vexation that she had done +nothing to make him realize it. + + + + +XI. + + +Ludlow caught a cab in the street, and drove furiously to his lodging, +where he dressed in ten minutes, so that he was not more than fifteen +minutes late at the dinner he had risked missing for Cornelia's sake. + +"I'm afraid I'm very late," he said, from his place at the left of his +hostess; he pulled his napkin across his lap, and began to attack his +oysters at once. + +"Oh, not at all," said the lady, but he knew that she would have said +much the same if he had come as they were rising from table. + +A clear, gay voice rose from the corner of the board diagonally +opposite: "The candles haven't begun to burn their shades yet; so you +are still early, Mr. Ludlow." + +The others laughed with the joy people feel in having a familiar fact +noted for the first time. They had all seen candle-shades weakly topple +down on the flames and take fire at dinner. + +The gay voice went on, rendered, perhaps, a little over-bold by +success: "If you see the men rising to put them out, you may be sure +that they've been seated exactly an hour." + +Ludlow looked across the bed of roses which filled two-thirds of the +table, across the glitter of glass, and the waver of light and shadow, +and said, "Oh, _you're_ there!" + +The wit that had inspired the voice before gave out; the owner tried to +make a pout do duty for it. "Of course I'm there," she said; then +pending another inspiration she was silent. Everybody waited for her to +rise again to the level of her reputation for clever things, and the +general expectation expressed itself in a subdued creaking of stiff +linen above the board, and the low murmur of silken skirts under the +table. + +Finally one of the men said, "Well, it's bad enough to come late, but +it's a good deal worse to come too early. I'd rather come late, any +time." + +"Mr. Wetmore wants you to ask him why, Mrs. Westley," said Ludlow. + +Mrs. Westley entreated, "Oh, why, Mr. Wetmore?" and every one laughed. + +"All right, Ludlow," said the gentleman in friendly menace. Then he +answered Mrs. Westley: "Well, one thing, your hostess respects you +more. If you come too early you bring reproach and you meet contempt; +reproach that she shouldn't have been ready to receive you, and +contempt that you should have supposed her capable of dining at the +hour fixed." + +It was a Mrs. Rangeley who had launched the first shaft at Ludlow; she +now fitted another little arrow to her string, under cover of the laugh +that followed Mr. Wetmore's reasons. "I shouldn't object to any one's +coming late, unless I were giving the dinner; but what I can't bear is +wondering what it was kept them." + +Again she had given a touch that reminded the company of their common +humanity and their unity of emotion, and the laugh that responded was +without any of that reservation or uncertainty which a subtle observer +may often detect in the enjoyment of brilliant things said at dinner. +But the great charm of the Westley dinners was that people generally +did understand each other there. If you made a joke, as Wetmore said, +you were not often required to spell it. He celebrated the Westleys as +ideal hosts: Mrs. Westley had the youth and beauty befitting a second +wife; her social ambition had as yet not developed into the passion for +millionaires; she was simply content with painters, like himself and +Ludlow, literary men, lawyers, doctors and their several wives. + +General Westley was in what Wetmore called the bloom of age. He might +be depended upon for the unexpected, like fate. He occasionally did it, +he occasionally said it, from the passive hospitality that +characterized him. + +"I believe I share that impatience of yours, Mrs. Rangeley," he now +remarked; "though in the present case I think we ought to leave +everything to Mr. Ludlow's conscience." + +"Oh, do you think that would be quite safe?" she asked with burlesque +seriousness. "Well! If we _must_!" + +Ludlow said, "Why, I think Mrs. Rangeley is right. I would much rather +yield to compulsion. I don't mind telling what kept me, if I'm obliged +to." + +"Oh, I almost hate to have you, now!" Mrs. Rangeley bubbled back. "Your +willingness, somehow, makes it awful. You may be going to boast of it!" + +"No, no!" Wetmore interposed. "I don't believe it's anything to boast +of." + +"Now, you see, you _must_ speak," said Mrs. Westley. + +Ludlow fell back in his chair, and dreamily crumbled his bread. "I +don't see how I can, exactly." + +Wetmore leaned forward and looked at Ludlow round the snowy shoulder of +a tall lady next him. + +"Is there any particular form of words in which you like to be +prompted, when you get to this point?" + +"Dr. Brayton might hypnotize him," suggested the lady whose shoulder +Wetmore was looking round. + +The doctor answered across the table, "In these cases of the inverted +or prostrated will, there is often not volition enough to cooeperate +with the hypnotizer. I don't believe I could do anything with Mr. +Ludlow." + +"How much," sighed Mrs. Rangeley, "I should like to be the centre of +universal interest like that!" + +"It's a good pose," said Wetmore; "but really I think Ludlow is working +it too hard. I don't approve of mob violence, as the papers say when +they're going to; but if he keeps this up much longer I won't be +answerable for the consequences. I feel that we are getting beyond the +control of our leaders." + +Ludlow was tempted to exploit the little incident with Cornelia, for he +felt sure that it would win the dinner-table success which we all like +to achieve. Her coming to study art in New York, and her arriving in +that way, was a pretty romance; prettier than it would have been if she +were plainer, and he knew that he could give the whole situation so +that she should appear charming, and should appeal to everybody's +sympathy. If he could show her stiff and blunt, as she was, so much the +better. He would go back to their first meeting, and bring in a sketch +of Pymantoning County Fair, and of the village itself and its social +conditions, with studies of Burton and his wife. Every point would +tell, for though his commensals were now all well-to-do New Yorkers, he +knew that the time had been with them when they lived closer to the +ground, in simple country towns, as most prosperous and eminent +Americans have done. + +"Well," said Wetmore, "how long are you going to make us wait?" + +"Oh, you mustn't wait for _me_," said Ludlow. "Once is enough to-night. +I'm not going to say what kept me." + +This also was a success in its way. It drew cries of protest and +reproach from the ladies, and laughter from the men. Wetmore made +himself heard above the rest. "Mrs. Westley, I know this man, and I +can't let you be made the victim of one of his shameless fakes. There +was really nothing kept him. He either forgot the time, or, what is +more probable, he deliberately put off coming so as to give himself a +little momentary importance by arriving late. I don't wish to be hard +upon him, but that is the truth." + +"No, no," said the hostess in the applause which recognized Wetmore's +mischievous intent. "I'll not believe anything of the kind." From her +this had the effect of repartee, and when she asked with the +single-heartedness which Wetmore had praised among her friends as her +strongest point, and advised her keeping up as long as she possibly +could, "It isn't so, is it, Mr. Ludlow?" the finest wit could not have +done more for her. The general beamed upon her over the length of the +table. Mrs. Rangeley said at his elbow, "She's always more charming +than any one else, simply because she _is_," and he made no effort to +turn the compliment upon her as she thought he might very well have +done. + +Under cover of what the others now began saying about different +matters, Ludlow murmured to Mrs. Westley, "I don't mind telling _you_. +You know that young girl you said you would go with me to meet when I +should ask you?" + +"The little school-mistress?" + +"Yes." Ludlow smiled. "She isn't so very little, any more. It was she +who kept me. I found a dispatch at my place when I got home to-day, +telling me she was coming, and would arrive at six, and there was no +time to trouble you; it was half-past when I got it." + +"She's actually come then?" asked Mrs. Westlay. "Nothing you could say +would stop her?" + +"No," said Ludlow with a shrug. He added, after a moment, "But I don't +know that I blame her. Nothing would have stopped _me_." + +"And is there anything else I can do? Has she a pleasant place to +stay?" + +"Good enough, I fancy. It's a boarding-house where several people I +know have been. She must be left to her own devices, now. That's the +best thing for her. It's the only thing." + + + + +XII. + + +In spite of his theory as to what was best for her, in some ways Ludlow +rather expected that Cornelia would apply to him for advice as to how +and where she should begin work. He forgot how fully he had already +given it; but she had not. She remembered what she had overheard him +say to her mother, that day in the Fair House, about the superiority of +the Synthesis of Studies, and she had since confirmed her faith in his +judgment by much silent inquiry of the newspapers. They had the Sunday +edition of the _Lakeland Light_ at Pymantoning, and Cornelia had kept +herself informed of the "Gossip of the Ateliers," and concerning "Women +and Artists," "Artists' Summer Homes," "Phases of Studio Life," "The +Ladies who are Organizing Ceramic Clubs," "Women Art Students," +"Glimpses of the Dens of New York Women Artists," and other aesthetic +interests which the Sunday edition of the _Light_ purveyed with the +newspaper syndicate's generous and indiscriminate abundance. She did +not believe it all; much of it seemed to her very silly; but she +nourished her ambition upon it all the same. + +The lady writers who celebrated the lady artists, and who mostly +preferred to swim in seas of personal float, did now and then offer +their readers a basis of solid fact; and they all agreed that the +Synthesis of Art Studies was the place for a girl if she was in earnest +and wished to work. + +As these ladies described them the conditions were of the exacting sort +which Cornelia's nature craved, and she had her sex-pride in the +Synthesis, too, because she had read that women had borne an important +part in founding it; the strictest technical training and the freest +spirit of artistic endeavor prevailed in a school that owed its +existence so largely to them. That was a great point, even if every one +of the instructors was a man. She supposed that Mr. Ludlow would have +sheltered himself behind this fact if she had used the other to justify +herself in going on with art after he had urged that as a woman, she +had better not do so. But the last thing Cornelia intended was to +justify herself to Mr. Ludlow, and she vehemently wished he would not +try to do anything more for her, now. After sleeping upon the facts of +their meeting she felt sure that he would not try. She approved of +herself for not having asked him to call in parting. She was almost +glad that he hardly had given her a chance to do so. + +It was Saturday night when Cornelia arrived, and she spent Sunday +writing home a full account of her adventures to her mother, whom she +asked to give Mrs. Barton the note she enclosed, and in looking over +her drawings, and trying to decide which she should take to the +Synthesis with her. She had a good deal of tacit argument about them +with Mr. Ludlow, who persisted in her thoughts after several definitive +dismissals; and Monday morning she presented herself with some drawings +she had chosen as less ridiculous than some of the others, and hovered +with a haughty humility at the door of the little office till the +janitor asked her if she would not come in and sit down. He had +apparently had official experience of cases like hers; he refused +without surprise the drawings which she offered him as her credentials, +and said the secretary would be in directly. He did not go so far as to +declare his own quality, but he hospitably did what he could to make +her feel at home. + +Numbers of young people began to appear, singly and in twos and threes, +and then go out again, and go on up the stairs which led crookedly to +and from the corner the office was cramped into. Some of them went up +stairs after merely glancing into the office, others found letters +there, and staid chatting awhile. They looked at Cornelia with merely +an identifying eye, at first, as if they perceived that she was a new +girl, but as if new girls were such an old story that they could not +linger long over one girl of the kind. Certain of the young ladies +after they went up stairs came down in long, dismal calico aprons that +covered them to the throat, and with an air of being so much absorbed +in their work that they did not know what they had on. They looked at +Cornelia again, those who had seen her before, and those who had not, +made up for it by looking at her twice, and Cornelia began to wonder if +there was anything peculiar about her, as she sat upright, stiffening +with resentment and faintly flushing under their scrutiny. She wore her +best dress, which was a street dress, as the best dress of a village +girl usually is; her mother had fitted it, and they had made it +themselves, and agreed that it was very becoming; Mrs. Burton had said +so, too. The fashion of her hat she was not so sure about, but it was a +pretty hat, and unless she had got it on skewy, and she did not believe +she had, there was nothing about it to make people stare so. There was +one of these girls, whom Cornelia felt to be as tall as herself, and of +much her figure; she was as dark as Cornelia, but of a different +darkness. Instead of the red that always lurked under the dusk in +Cornelia's cheeks, and that now burned richly through it, her face was +of one olive pallor, except her crimson lips; her long eyes were black, +with level brows, and with a heavy fringe of lucent black hair cut +straight above them; her nose was straight, at first glance, but showed +a slight arch in profile; her mouth was a little too full, and her chin +slightly retreated. She came in late, and stopped at the door of the +office, and bent upon Cornelia a look at once prehistoric and _fin de +siecle_, which lighted up with astonishment, interest and sympathy, +successively; then she went trailing herself on up stairs with her +strange Sphinx-face over her shoulder, and turned upon Cornelia as long +as she could see her. + +At last a gentleman came in and sat down behind the table in the +corner, and Cornelia found a hoarse voice to ask him if he was the +secretary. He answered in the friendly way that she afterwards found +went all through the Synthesis, that he was, and she said, with her +country bluntness, that she wished to study at the Synthesis, and she +had brought some of her drawings with her, if he wanted to look at +them. He took them, but either he did not want to look at them, or else +it was not his affair to do so. He said she would have to fill out a +form, and he gave her a blank which asked her in print a number of +questions she had not thought of asking herself till then. It obliged +her to confess that she had never studied under any one before, and to +say which master in the Synthesis she would like to study under, now. +She had to choose between life, and still-life, and the antique, and +she chose the antique. She was not governed by any knowledge or desire +in her choice more definite than such as come from her having read +somewhere that the instructor in the antique was the severest of all +the Synthesis instructors, and the most dreaded in his criticisms by +the students. She did not forget, even in the presence of the +secretary, and with that bewildering blank before her, that she wished +to be treated with severity, and that the criticism she needed was the +criticism that every one dreaded. + +When the secretary fastened her application to her drawings, she asked +if she should wait to learn whether it was accepted or not; but he said +that he would send her application to the Members' Room, and the +instructor would see it there in the morning. She would have liked to +ask him if she should come back there to find out, but she was afraid +to do it; he might say no, and then she should not know what to do. She +determined to come without his leave, and the next morning she found +that the master whom they had been submitted to had so far approved her +drawings as to have scrawled upon her application, "Recommended to the +Preparatory." The secretary said the instructor in the Preparatory +would tell her which grade to enter there. + +Cornelia's heart danced, but she governed herself outwardly, and asked +through her set teeth, "Can I begin at once?" She had lost one day +already, and she was not going to lose another if she could help it. + +The secretary smiled. "If the instructor in the Preparatory will place +you." + +Before noon she had passed the criticism needed for this, and was in +the lowest grade of the Preparatory. But she was a student at the +Synthesis, and she was there to work in the way that those who knew +best bade her. She wished to endure hardness, and the more hardness the +better. + + + + +XIII. + + +Cornelia found herself in the last of a long line of sections or stalls +which flanked a narrow corridor dividing the girl students from the +young men, who were often indeed hardly more than boys. There was a +table stretching from this corridor to a window looking down on the +roofs of some carpenter shops and stables; on the board before her lay +the elementary shape of a hand in plaster, which she was trying to +draw. At her side that odd-looking girl, who had stared so at her on +the stairs the day before, was working at a block foot, and not getting +it very well. She had in fact given it up for the present and was +watching Cornelia's work and watching her face, and talking to her. + +"What is your name?" she broke off to ask, in the midst of a monologue +upon the social customs and characteristics of the Synthesis. + +Cornelia always frowned, and drew her breath in long sibilations, when +she was trying hard to get a thing right. She now turned a knotted +forehead on her companion, but stopped her hissing to ask, "What?" Then +she came to herself and said, "Oh! Saunders." + +"I don't mean your last name," said the other, "I mean your first +name." + +"Cornelia," said the owner of it, as briefly as before. + +"I should have thought it would have been Gladys," the other suggested. + +Cornelia looked up in astonishment and some resentment. "Why in the +world should my name be Gladys?" she demanded. + +"I don't know," the other explained. "But the first moment I saw you in +the office, I said to myself, 'Of course her name is Gladys.' Mine is +Charmian." + +"Is it?" said Cornelia, not so much with preoccupation, perhaps, as +with indifference. She thought it rather a nice name, but she did not +know what she had to do with it. + +"Yes," the other said, as if she had somehow expected to be doubted. +"My last name's Maybough." Cornelia kept on at her work without remark, +and Miss Maybough pursued, as if it were a branch of autobiography, +"I'm going to have lunch; aren't you?" + +Cornelia sighed dreamily, as she drew back for an effect of her +drawing, which she held up on the table before her, "Is it time?" + +"Do you suppose they would be letting me talk so to you if it weren't? +The monitor would have been down on me long ago." + +Cornelia had noticed a girl who seemed to be in authority, and who sat +where she could oversee and overhear all that went on. + +"Is she one of the students?" she asked. + +Miss Maybough nodded. "Elected every month. She's awful. You can't do +anything with her when she's on duty, but she's a little dear when she +isn't. You'll like her." Miss Maybough leaned toward her, and joined +Cornelia in a study of her drawing. "How splendidly you're getting it. +It's very _chic_. Oh, anybody can see that _you've_ got genius!" + +Her admiration made no visible impression upon Cornelia, and for a +moment she looked a little disappointed; then she took a basket from +under the table, and drew from it a bottle of some yellowish liquid, an +orange and a bit of sponge cake. "Are you going to have yours here?" +she asked, as Cornelia opened a paper with the modest sandwich in it +which she had made at breakfast, and fetched from her boarding-house. +"Oh, I'm so glad you haven't brought anything to drink with you! I felt +almost sure you hadn't, and now you've got to share mine." She took a +cup from her basket, and in spite of Cornelia's protest that she never +drank anything but water at dinner, she poured it full of tea for her. +"I'll drink out of the bottle," she said. "I like to. Some of the girls +bring chocolate, but I think there's nothing like cold tea for the +brain. Chocolate's so clogging; so's milk; but sometimes I bring that; +it's glorious, drinking it out of the can." She tilted the bottle to +her lips, and half drained it at a draught. "I always feel that I'm +working with inspiration after I've had my cold tea. Of course they +won't let _you_ stay here long," she added. + +"Why?" Cornelia fluttered back in alarm. + +"When they see your work they'll see that you're fit for still-life, at +least." + +"Oh!" said Cornelia, vexed at having been scared for nothing. "I guess +they won't be in any great hurry about it." + +"How magnificent!" said Miss Maybough. "Of course, with that calm of +yours, you can wait, as if you had eternity before you. Do you know +that you are _terribly_ calm?" + +Cornelia turned and gave her a long stare. Miss Maybough broke her bit +of cake in two, and offered her half, and Cornelia took it +mechanically, but ate her sandwich. "_I_ feel as if I had eternity +_behind_ me, I've been in the Preparatory so long." + +On the common footing this drop to the solid ground gave, Cornelia +asked her how long. + +"Well, it's the beginning of my second year, now. If they don't let me +go to round hands pretty soon, I shall have to see if I can't get the +form by modelling. That's the best way. I suppose it's my imagination; +it carries me away so, and I don't see the thing as it is before me; +that's what they say. But with the clay, I'll _have_ to, don't you +know. Well, you know some of the French painters model their whole +picture in clay and paint it, before they touch the canvas, any way. I +shall try it here awhile longer, and then if I can't get to the round +in any other way, I'll take to the clay. If sculpture concentrates you +more, perhaps I may stick to it altogether. Art is one, anyhow, and the +great thing is to _live_ it. Don't you think so?" + +"I don't know," said Cornelia. "I'm not certain I know what you mean." + +"You will," said Miss Maybough, "after you've been here awhile, and get +used to the atmosphere. I don't believe I really knew what life meant +before I came to the Synthesis. When you get to realizing the standards +of the Synthesis, then you begin to breathe freely for the first time. +I expect to pass the rest of my days here. I shouldn't care if I stayed +till I was thirty. How old are you?" + +"I'm going on twenty," said Cornelia. "Why?" + +"Oh, nothing. You can't begin too young; though some people think you +oughtn't to come before you're eighteen. I look upon my days before I +came here as simply wasted. Don't you want to go out and sit on the +stairs awhile?" + +"I don't believe I do," said Cornelia, taking up her drawing again, as +if she were going on with it. + +"Horrors!" Miss Maybough put her hand out over the sketch. "You don't +mean that you're going to carry it any farther?" + +"Why, it isn't finished yet," Cornelia began. + +"Of _course_ it isn't, and it never ought to be! I hope you're not +going to turn out a _niggler_! _Please_ don't! I couldn't bear to have +you. Nobody will respect you if you _finish_. Don't! If you won't come +out with me and get a breath of fresh air, do start a new drawing! I +want them to see this in the rough. It's _so_ bold." + +Miss Maybough had left her own drawing in the rough, but it could not +be called bold; though if she had seen the block hand with a faltering +eye, she seemed to have had a fearless vision of many other things, and +she had covered her paper with a fantastic medley of grotesque shapes, +out of that imagination which she had given Cornelia to know was so +fatally mischievous to her in its uninvited activities. "_Don't_ look +at them!" she pleaded, when Cornelia involuntarily glanced at her +study. "My only hope is to hate them. I almost _pray_ to be delivered +from them. Let's talk of something else." She turned the sheet over. +"Do you mind my having said that about your drawing?" + +"No!" said Cornelia, provoked to laughter by the solemnity of the +demand. "Why should I?" + +"Oh, I don't know. Do you think you shall like me? I mean, do you care +if I like _you_--very, _very_ much?" + +"I don't suppose I could stop it if I did, could I?" asked Cornelia. + +The Sphinx seemed to find heart to smile. "Of course, I'm ridiculous. +But I do hope we're going to be friends. Tell me about yourself. Or, +have some more tea!" + + + + +XIV. + + +"I don't want any more tea, thank you," said Cornelia, "and there isn't +anything to tell." + +"There must be!" the other girl insisted, clinging to her bottle with +tragic intensity. "Any one can see that _you've_ lived. What part of +the country did you come from?" + +"Ohio," said Cornelia, as the best way to be done with it. + +"And have you ever been in Santa Fe?" + +"Goodness, no! Why, it's in New Mexico!" + +"Yes; I was born there. Then my father went to Colorado. He isn't +living, now. Are your father and mother living?" + +"My mother is," said Cornelia; the words brought up a vision of her +mother, as she must be sitting that moment in the little front-room, +and a mist came suddenly before her eyes; she shut her lips hard to +keep them from trembling. + +"I see, you worship her," said Miss Maybough fervidly, keeping her gaze +fixed upon Cornelia. "You are homesick!" + +"I'm _not_ homesick!" said Cornelia, angry that she should be so and +that she should be denying it. + +"Mine," said the other, "died while I was a baby. She had Indian +blood," she added in the same way in which she had said her name was +Charmian. + +"_Did_ she?" Cornelia asked. + +"That is the legend," said Miss Maybough solemnly. "Her grandmother was +a Zuni princess." She turned her profile. "See?" + +"It does look a little Indian," said Cornelia. + +"Some people think it's Egyptian," Miss Maybough suggested, as if she +had been leading up to the notion, and were anxious not to have it +ignored. + +Cornelia examined the profile steadily presented, more carefully: "It's +a good deal more Egyptian." + +Miss Maybough relieved her profile from duty, and continued, "We've +been everywhere. Paris two years. That's where I took up art in dead +earnest; Julian, you know. Mamma didn't want me to; she wanted me to go +into society there; and she does here; but I hate it. Don't you think +society is very frivolous, or, any way, very stupid?" + +"I don't know much about it. I never went out, much," said Cornelia. + +"Well, I hope you're not conventional! Nobody's conventional _here_." + +"I don't believe I'm conventional enough to hurt," said Cornelia. + +"You have humor, too," said Miss Maybough, thoughtfully, as if she had +been mentally cataloguing her characteristics. "_You'll_ be popular." + +Cornelia stared at her and turned to her drawing. + +"But you're proud," said the other, "I can see that. I adore pride. It +must have been your pride that fascinated me at the first glance. Do +you mind my being fascinated with you?" + +Cornelia wanted to laugh; at the same time she wondered what new kind +of crazy person she had got with; this was hardly one of the +art-students that went wild from overwork. Miss Maybough kept on +without waiting to be answered: "I haven't got a bit of pride, myself. +I could just let you walk over me. How does it feel to be proud? What +are you proud _for_?" + +Cornelia quieted a first impulse to resent this pursuit. "I don't think +I'm very proud. I used to be proud when I was little;--I guess you +ought to have asked me then." + +"Oh, yes! Tell me about yourself!" Miss Maybough implored again, but +she went on as before without giving Cornelia any chance to reply. "Of +course, when I say mamma, I mean my step-mother. She's very good to me, +but she doesn't understand me. You'll like her. I'll tell you what sort +of a person she is." She did so at such length that the lunch hour +passed before she finished, and a hush fell upon all the babbling +voices about, as the monitor came back to her place. + +Toward the end of the afternoon the monitor's vigilance relaxed again, +and Miss Maybough began to talk again. "If you want to be anything by +the Synthesis standards," she said, "you've got to keep this up a whole +year, you know." It was now four o'clock, and Cornelia had been working +steadily since eleven, except for the half-hour at lunch-time. "They'll +see how well you draw; you needn't be afraid of their not doing that; +and they'll let you go on to the round at once, perhaps. But if you're +truly Synthetic in spirit, you won't want to. You'll want to get all +you can out of the block; and it'll take you a year to do that; then +another year for the full length, you know. At first we only had the +block here, and a good many people think now that the full length +Preparatory encroaches on the Antique. Sometimes they even let you put +in backgrounds here, but it don't matter much: when the instructor in +the Antique gets hold of you he makes you unlearn everything you've +learnt in the full-length. _He's_ grand." + +A girl who was working at the other end of the table said with a +careless air, "They told me I might go up to the Antique to-day." + +"Lida!" Miss Maybough protested, in a voice hoarse with admiration. + +"Yes; but I'm not going." + +"_Why_ not? I should think you would be so proud. _How_ did they come +to tell you?" + +"Oh, they just said I might. But I'm not going. They're so severe in +the Antique. They just discourage you." + +"Yes, that is so," said Miss Maybough, with a sigh of solemn joy. "They +make you feel as if you couldn't draw at all." + +"Yes," said the other girl. "They act as if you didn't know a thing." + +"I _wouldn't_ go," said Miss Maybough. + +"I don't know. Perhaps I may." The girl went on drawing, and Miss +Maybough turned to Cornelia again. + +"Towards the end of your third year--or perhaps you don't like to have +your future all mapped out. Does it scare you?" + +"I guess if it does I shall live through it," said Cornelia steadily; +her heart was beginning to quake somewhat, but she was all the more +determined not to show it. + +"Well, the third year you may get to painting still-life, while you +keep up your drawing afternoons here. The next year you'll go into the +antique class, if they'll let you, and draw heads, and keep up your +still-life mornings. When they think you're fit for it, they'll let you +do an arm, maybe, and work along that way to the full figure; and that +takes another whole winter. Then you go into the life class, one of +them, all the morning, and keep drawing from the antique in the +afternoons, or else do heads from the model. You do a head every day, +and then paint it out, and begin another the next day. You learn to +sacrifice self to art. It's grand! Well, then, the next winter you keep +on just the same, and as many winters after that as you please. You +know what one instructor said to a girl that asked him what she should +do after she had been five years in the Synthesis?" + +"No, I don't," answered Cornelia anxiously. + +"Stay five years more!" + +Miss Maybough did not give this time to sink very deep into Cornelia's +spirit. "Will you let me call you by your first name?" + +"Why, I've hardly ever been called by any other," said Cornelia simply. + +"And will you call me Charmian?" + +"I had just as lief." Cornelia laughed; she could not help it; that +girl seemed so odd; she did not know whether she liked her or not. + +"What poise you _have_ got!" sighed Charmian. "May I come to see you? +Not a ceremonious call. In your own room; where we can talk." + +Cornelia thought that if they went on as they had that day, they should +probably talk quite enough at the Synthesis; but she said, "Why, yes, I +should like to have you, if you won't care for my sitting on the trunk. +There's only one chair." + +"Let _me_ have the trunk! Promise me you'll let me sit on the trunk. +It's divine! Is it in a Salvation Hotel?" + +"What do you mean?" asked Cornelia. + +"Why, that's what they call the places that the Young Women's Christian +Association keep." + +"No, it isn't. It's just a boarding-house." Cornelia wrote her address +on a piece of paper, and Charmian received it with solemn rapture. She +caught Cornelia in a sudden embrace and kissed her, before Cornelia +could help herself. "Oh, I adore you!" she cried. + +They parted at the head of the stairs, where they found themselves +among groups of students arriving from all parts of the place, and +pausing for Synthesis gossip, which Cornelia could not have entered +into yet if she had wished. She escaped, and walked home to her +boarding-house with rather a languid pace, and climbed to her little +room on the fifth story, and lay down on her bed. It was harder work +than teaching, and her back ached, and her heart was heavy with the +thought of five years in the Synthesis, when she barely had money +enough for one winter. She was not afraid of the work; she liked that; +she would be glad to spend her whole life at it; but she could not give +five years to it, and perhaps ten. She was ashamed now to think she had +once dreamed of somehow slipping through in a year, and getting the +good of it without working for it. She tried to plan how she could go +home and teach a year, and then come back and study a year, and so on; +but by the end of the twenty years that it would take for ten years' +study at this rate, she would be an old woman of forty, ready to drop +into the grave. She was determined not to give up, and if she did not +give up, there was no other end to it; or so it seemed at the close of +her first day in the Synthesis. + +She was very homesick, and she would have liked to give up altogether +and go home. But she thought of what people would say; of how her +mother, who would be so glad to see her, would feel. She would not be a +baby, and she turned her face over in the pillow and sobbed. + + + + +XV. + + +Cornelia thought that perhaps Mr. Ludlow would feel it due to Mrs. +Burton to come and ask how she was getting on; but if she did not wish +him to come she had reason to be glad, for the whole week passed, and +she did not see him, or hear anything from him. She did not blame him, +for she had been very uncouth, and no doubt he had done his whole duty +in meeting her at the depot, and seeing her safely housed the first +night. She wished to appreciate his kindness, and when she found +herself wondering a little at his not caring to know anything more +about her, she made much of it. If it was not all that she could have +imagined from his offer to be of use to her in any way he could, she +reminded herself that he had made that offer a very long time ago, and +that she never meant to use him. Beside, she was proud of having made +her start alone, and she knew which way she wished to go, though the +way seemed so hard and long at times. She was not sure that all the +students at the Synthesis were so clear as to their direction, but they +all had the same faith in the Synthesis and its methods. They hardly +ever talked to her of anything else, and first and last they talked a +good deal to her. It was against the rules to loiter and talk in the +corridors, as much against the rules as smoking; but every now and then +you came upon a young man with a cigarette, and he was nearly always +talking with a group of girls. At lunch-time the steps and window-seats +were full, and the passages were no longer thoroughfares. After the +first day Cornelia came out with the rest; Charmian Maybough said that +one could not get into the spirit of the Synthesis unless one did; and +in fact those who wished to work and those who would rather have +played, as it seemed to her, met there in the same aesthetic equality. +She found herself acquainted with a great many girls whose names she +did not know, in the fervor of the common interest, the perpetual glow +of enthusiasm which crowned the severest ordeals of the Synthesis with +the halo of happy martyrdom if not the wreath of victory. + +They talked about the different instructors, how awful they were, and +how they made you cry sometimes, they were so hard on your work; but if +you amounted to anything, you did not mind it when you got to feel what +they meant; then you _wanted_ them to be harsh. They said of one, "My! +You ought to see him! _He_ can spoil your drawing for you! He just +takes your charcoal, and puts thick black lines all over everything. It +don't do to finish much for _him_." They celebrated another for sitting +down in front of your work, and drooping in silent despair before it +for awhile, and then looking up at you in cold disgust, and asking, +"What made you draw it _that_ way?" as if it were inconceivable anybody +should have been willing to do it so. There were other instructors who +were known to have the idea of getting at the best in you by a +sympathetic interest in what you had tried for, and looking for some +good in it. The girls dramatized their manner of doing this; they did +not hold them in greater regard than the harder masters, but they did +not hold them in less, and some of them seemed to value an instructor +as much for the way he squinted his eyes at your drawing as for what he +said of it. + +The young men did not talk so much of the instructors; they were more +reticent about everything. But some had formed themselves upon them, +and you could tell which each of these was studying under; or this was +what Charmian Maybough said. + +She led Cornelia all about through the quaint old rookery, with its +wandering corridors, and its clusters of rooms distributed at random in +the upper stories of several buildings which the Synthesis had gathered +to itself as if by a sort of affinity, and she lectured upon every one +and everything. + +It was against usage for students in the lower grades to visit the +upper classes when they were at work; but Charmian contrived stolen +glimpses of the still-life rooms and the rooms where they were working +from the draped models. For the first time Cornelia saw the irregular +hemicycle of students silently intent upon the silent forms and faces +of those strange creatures who sat tranced in a lifeless immobility, as +if the long practice of their trade had resolved them into something as +impersonal as the innumerable pictures studied from them. She even +penetrated with Charmian to the women's life-room, where you really +could not go while the model was posing, and where they had to time +their visit at the moment when the girls had left off for lunch, and +were chattering over their chocolate. They had set it out on the vacant +model-stand, and they invited their visitors to break bread with them: +the bread they had brought to rub out their drawings with. They made +Cornelia feel as much at home with them on the summit they had reached, +as she felt with the timidest beginners in the Preparatory. Charmian +had reported everywhere that she had genius, and in the absence of +proofs to the contrary the life-class accepted her as if she had. Their +talk was not very different from the talk of the students in the lower +grades. They spoke of the Synthesis, and asked her how she liked it, +but they did not wait for her to say. They began to descant upon their +instructors, and the pictures their instructors had last exhibited at +the Academy or the American Artists; and the things that the old +Synthesis pupils had there. Cornelia learned here that even actual +Synthetics had things in the exhibitions, and that in the last Academy +a Preparatory girl had sold a picture; she determined that before the +winter was over she would at least give the Academy a chance to refuse +the picture of another Preparatory girl. + +She got Charmian to point out the girl who had sold the picture; she +was a little, quiet-looking thing; Cornelia saw some of her work in +round hands and she did not think it was better than she could do +herself. She took courage and dreamed of trying not to disappoint the +hopes of immediate performance, which she knew her mother would be +having in spite of her pretending the contrary. Her mother had written +that she must not work herself down, trying to learn too fast, but must +take the whole winter for it. Cornelia wondered what she would think if +she knew how little a person could be expected to do in one winter, in +the regular Synthesis way. + +She was happier at the end of the first week than she had been at the +end of the first day, though she was very tired, and was glad to stop +at the earlier hour when most of the students left their work on +Saturday afternoon. She had begun to feel the charm of the Synthesis, +which every one said she would feel. She was already a citizen of the +little republic where the heaviest drudgery was sweet with a vague, +high faith and hope. It was all a strange happiness to her, and yet not +strange. It was like a heritage of her own that she had come into; +something she was born to, a right, a natural condition. + +She did not formulate this, or anything; she did not ask herself why +the frivolities and affectations which disgusted her in the beginning +no longer offended her so much; she only saw that some of the most +frivolous and affected of her fellow-citizens were the cleverest; and +that the worst of them were better than they might have been where the +ideal was less generous. She did not know then or afterwards just why +some of them were there, and they did not seem to know themselves. +There were some who could reasonably expect to live by their art; there +were more who could hope to live by teaching it. But there were others +who had no definite aim or purpose, and seemed to think their study +would shape them to some design. They were trying it, they did not know +clearly why, or at least were not able to say clearly why. There were +several rich girls, and they worked from the love of it, as hard as the +poorest. There were some through whom she realized what Ludlow meant +when he spoke to her mother of the want that often went hand in hand +with art; there were others even more pitiful, who struggled with the +bare sufficiency of gift to keep within the Synthesis. But even among +the girls who were so poor that they had to stint themselves of food +and fire, for art's sake, there were the bravest and gayest spirits; +and some of these who could never have learned to draw well if they had +spent their lives in the Synthesis, and were only waiting till their +instructor should find the heart to forbid them further endeavor, were +so sweet and good that Cornelia's heart ached for them. + +At first she was overawed by all the students, simply because they were +all older students at the Synthesis than she was. Then she included +them without distinction in the slight that she felt for the chatter +and the airs of some. After that she made her exceptions among them; +she begun to see how every one honored and admired the hard workers. +She could not revert to her awe of them, even of the hardest workers; +but she became more tolerant of the idlest and vaguest. She compared +herself with the clever ones, and owned herself less clever, not +without bitterness, but certainly with sincerity, and with a final +humility that enabled her to tolerate those who were least clever. + + + + +XVI. + + +When she got home from the Synthesis the first Saturday afternoon, +Cornelia climbed up the four flights of stairs that led to her little +room, and lay down to rest, as she promised Mrs. Burton she would do +every day; some days she did not. She had to lie on her bed, which +filled two-thirds of the room. There was a bureau with a glass, which +she could not see the bottom of her skirt in without jumping up; and a +wash-stand with a shut-down lid, where she wrote her letters and drew; +a chair stood between that and her trunk, which was next the door, and +let the door open part way. + +It seemed very cramped at first, but she soon got used to it, and then +she did not think about it; but accepted it as she did everything else +in the life that was all so strange to her. She had never been in a +boarding-house before, and she did not know whether it was New York +usage or not, that her trunk, which the expressman had managed to leave +in the lower hall, should be left standing there for twenty-four hours +after his escape, and that then she should be asked to take some things +out of it so that it should not be too heavy for the serving-maids to +carry up to her room. There was no man-servant in the place; but the +landlady said that they expected to have a furnace-man as soon as it +came cold weather. + +The landlady was such an indistinct quality, that it could seldom be +known whether she was at home or not, and when she was identifiably +present, whether she had promised or had not promised to do this or +that. People were always trying to see her for some reason or no +reason, and it was said that the best time to find her was at table. +This was not so easy; the meals had a certain range in time, and the +landlady was nominally at the head of the table; but those who came +early to find her made the mistake of not having come late, and if you +came late you just missed her. Yet she was sometimes actually to be +encountered at the head of the stairs from the kitchen, or evanescing +from the parlor; and somehow the house was operated; the meals came and +went, and the smell of their coming and going filled the hall-way from +the ground floor to the attic. Some people complained of the meals, but +Cornelia's traditions were so simple that she thought them a constant +succession of prodigies, with never less than steak, fish and hash for +breakfast, and always turkey and cranberry sauce for dinner, and often +ice-cream; sometimes the things were rather burnt, but she did not see +that there was much to find fault with. She celebrated the luxury in +her letters home, and she said that she liked the landlady, too, and +that they had got to be great friends; in fact the landlady reminded +the girl of her own mother in the sort of springless effectiveness with +which she brought things to pass, when you would never have expected +any result whatever; and she was gentle like her mother, and +simple-hearted, with all her elusiveness. But she was not neat, like +Mrs. Saunders; the house went at loose ends. Cornelia found fluff under +her bed that must have been there a long time. The parlor and the +dining-room were kept darkened, and no one could have told what +mysteries their corners and set pieces of furniture harbored. The +carpets, where the subdued light struck them, betrayed places worn down +to the warp. Mrs. Montgomery herself had a like effect of unsparing +use; her personal upholstery showed frayed edges and broken woofs, +which did not seriously discord with her nerveless gentility. + +The parlor was very long and rather narrow, and it was crossed at the +rear by the dining-room which showed the table in stages of preparation +or dismantling through sliding-doors never quite shut. At intervals +along the parlor walls were set sofas in linen brocade and yellow jute; +and various easy and uneasy chairs in green plush stood about in no +definite relation to the black-walnut, marble-topped centre-table. A +scarf, knotted and held by a spelter vase to one of the marble mantles, +for there were two, recorded a moment of the aesthetic craze which had +ceased before it got farther amidst the earlier and honester ugliness +of the room. The gas-fixtures were of the vine-leaf and grape-cluster +bronze-age; some of the garlands which ought to have been attached to +the burners, hung loose from the parent stem, without the effort on the +part of any witness to complete the artistic intention. In the evening, +the lady-boarders received their gentlemen-callers in the parlor; their +lady-callers were liable at all times to be asked if they would not +like to go to the boarders' rooms, and whether they expressed this +preference or not, they were directed where to find them by the maid, +who then rapidly disappeared down the kitchen stairs. + +In fact, the door-service at Mrs. Montgomery's was something she would +probably have deprecated if any one had asked her to do so. It was the +charge of a large, raw-boned Irish girl, who made up by her athletic +physique and her bass voice for the want of a man-servant on the +premises. She brow-beat visitors into acceptance of the theory that the +persons they came to see were not at home, especially if they showed +signs of intending to wait in the parlor while she went upstairs to +find out. Those who suffered from her were of the sex least fitted to +combat her. The gentlemen boarders seldom had callers; when they had, +their callers did not ask whether their friends were in or not; they +went and saw for themselves. + +The gentlemen at Mrs. Montgomery's were fewer than the ladies, and they +were for several reasons in greater favor. For one thing they gave less +trouble: they had a less lively fear of mice, and they were not so apt +to be out of health and to want their meals sent up; they ate more, but +they did not waste so much, and they never did any sort of washing in +their rooms. Cornelia did not know who or what some of them were; but +she made sure of a theatrical manager; two or three gentlemen in +different branches of commerce; a newspaper writer of some sort, and an +oldish gentleman who had been with Mrs. Montgomery a great while, and +did not seem to be anything but a gentleman boarder, pure and simple. +They were all very civil and quiet, and they bore with the amiable +American fortitude the hardships of the common lot at Mrs. +Montgomery's, which Cornelia underwent ignorantly as necessary +incidents of life in New York. + +She now fell asleep where she lay, and she was startled from her nap, +but hardly surprised, to hear her name spoken in the hall far below, as +if it were a theme of contention between the bass-voiced Irish girl and +some one at the street door, who supported the other side of the +question in low, indistinct, lady-like murmurs. + +"No, she don't be in," said the Irish girl bluntly. The polite murmur +insisted, and the Irish girl said, with finality, "Well, then, yous can +go up yourselves and see; the room is right over the dure, four flights +up." + +Cornelia jumped up and tried to pull her hair into a knot before the +glass. There came a tap at her door and the voice of Charmian Maybough +asked, "May I come in, Miss Saunders,--Cornelia?" + +"Yes," said Cornelia, and she opened the door as far as her trunk would +let her. + +Charmian pushed impetuously in. She took Cornelia in her arms and +kissed her, as if they had not met for a long time. + +"Oh," she said, whirling about, so as to sweep the whole room with her +glance, before sinking down on Cornelia's trunk, "why can't _I_ have +something like this? Well, I shall have, I hope, before I die, yet. +What made her say you weren't in? I knew you were." She rose and flew +about the room, and examined it in detail. She was very beautifully +dressed, in a street costume of immediate fashion, without a suggestion +of the aestheticism of the picturesque gown she wore at the Synthesis; +that had originality, but Cornelia perceived with the eye trained to +see such differences, that this had authority. Charmian could not help +holding and carrying herself differently in it, too. She was +exquisitely gloved, and Cornelia instinctively felt that her hat was +from Paris, though till then she had never seen a Paris hat to know it. +She might have been a little overawed by it, if the wearer had not +abruptly asked her what she thought of it. + +"Well," said Cornelia, with her country directness, which was so +different from the other's abruptness, "I think it's about the most +perfect thing I ever saw." + +Charmian sighed. "I saw you looking at it. Yes, it _is_ a dream. But +it's a badge of slavery. So's the whole costume. Look how I'm laced!" +She flung open the jacket and revealed a waist certainly much smaller +than she had earlier in the day. "That's the way it goes through my +whole life. Mamma is dead set against the artistic, and I'm dead set +against the fashionable. As long as I'm at the Synthesis, I do as the +Synthetics do. I dress like the Synthesis, and I think like it, and I +act like it. As soon as I get home in the afternoon, I have to be of +the world worldly. I put on a Worth frock, and mamma would make me put +on a Worth spirit, if she could. I do my best to conform, because it's +the bargain, and I'll keep my word if it kills me. _Now_ you see what a +double life I lead! If I could only be steeped in hopeless poverty to +the lips! If I could have a room like this, even! Sometimes I'm so +bewildered by the twofold existence I'm leading, I don't really know +what I'm saying. Those your things, of course?" She sprang from +Cornelia's trunk, which she had sank down upon again, and swiftly +traversed the sketches Cornelia had pinned about the wall. "What touch! +Yes, you merely have to live on, to be anything you like. It'll do +itself for _you_. Well, I suppose you'll have to see her." She turned +about to Cornelia with an air of deprecation. "Mamma, you know. She's +down stairs waiting for us. She thinks it right to come with me always. +I dare say it is. She isn't so very bad, you know. Only she insists +upon knowing all the girls I take a fancy to, herself. You needn't be +afraid of her." + +"I don't know why I should be afraid of anybody," said Cornelia. + +The darker corner of the long parlor was occupied by a young couple in +the earnest inquiry into each other's psychological peculiarities which +marks a stage of the passion of love. It obliged them to get very close +together, where they sat, she on a lounge and he in the chair, which he +kept pulling nearer and nearer; they fulfilled these conditions and +exchanged their observations with a freedom that ignored the presence +of the lady sitting somewhat severely upright between the two long, +front windows, exactly midway of the dingy lace curtains, trained +fan-wise on the carpet. They were not disturbed when Cornelia and +Charmian appeared; the young lady continued to dangle the tassel of a +cushion through her fingers, and the young man leaned toward her with +his face in his hand, and his elbow sunk in the arm of the lounge; but +the other lady rose at once and came quickly forward, as if escaping +from them. Beside the tall girls she looked rather little, and she was +decidedly blonde against their brunette color. She wore a veil that +came just between her upper and her lower lip, and that stirred lightly +when she spoke. She was dressed with the same authoritative fashion as +Charmian, but not so simply. + +She did not wait for her daughter to speak, but took Cornelia's hand, +and said in a soft voice, "Miss Saunders? I am very glad we found you +at home. My daughter has been speaking to me about you, and we hoped to +have come sooner, but we couldn't manage together before." + +"Won't you sit down?" asked Cornelia. + +"No, I thank you," Mrs. Maybough returned, with a velvety tenderness of +tone that seemed to convey assent. "We shall be rather late, as it is. +I hope you're comfortably situated here." + +"Oh, very," said Cornelia. "I've never been away from home before, and +of course it isn't like home." + +"Yes," said Mrs. Maybough, "one misses the refinements of home in such +places." She turned and swept the appointments of the room, including +the students of psychology, with a critical eye. + +"I wish _I_ could come here," sighed the daughter. "If I could have a +room like Cornelia's, mamma! I _wish_ you could see it." + +"I'm glad you're pleasantly placed, Miss Saunders. I hope you're not +working too hard at the Synthesis. I understand the young ladies there +are so enthusiastic." + +"Oh, no," Cornelia protested. + +"Of course she is!" said Charmian. "Everybody works too hard at the +Synthesis. It's the ideal of the place. We woke her out of a nap, and I +know she was tired to death." + +Cornelia could not deny it, and so she said nothing. + +"Oh!" said Mrs. Maybough, non-committally; "that won't do." She paused, +without intermitting the scrutiny which Cornelia felt she had been +subjecting her to from the first moment through her veil. "You mustn't +wear yourself out." She paused again, and then while Charmian turned +away with an effect of impatience, she asked, "Do you ever go out on +Sundays?" + +"Why, I don't know," Cornelia began, not certain whether Mrs. Maybough +meant walking out or driving out; young people did both in Pymantoning. + +Mrs. Maybough pursued: "We receive on Thursdays, but we have a few +friends coming in to-morrow afternoon, and we should be very glad to +see you, if you have nothing better." + +The invitation was so tentatively, so gingerly offered in manner, if +not in words, that Cornelia was not quite sure it had been given. She +involuntarily searched her memory for something better before she +spoke; for the first time in her life she was about to invent a +previous engagement, when Charmian suddenly turned and laid her arms +about her neck. + +"You'll come, of course!" + +"Charmian!" said Mrs. Maybough. It would have been hard to tell whether +she was reproving the action or the urgence. "Then we shall hope to see +you?" + +"Yes, thank you," said Cornelia. + +"Do come!" said Charmian, as if she had not yet accepted. "I can't let +it be a whole day and two nights before I see you again!" She put her +arm round Cornelia's waist, as the girl went with them to the outer +door, to open it for them, in her village fashion. In the hall, +Charmian whispered passionately, "Don't you _envy_ them? _Oh_, if I +could live in such a house with you, and with people like that just to +look at!" + +"My dear!" said Mrs. Maybough. + +"They seem to be engaged," said Cornelia placidly, without sense of +anything wrong in the appearance of the fact. + +"Evidently," said Mrs. Maybough. + +"I shouldn't care for the engagement," said Charmian. "That would be +rather horrid. But if you were in love, to feel that you needn't hide +it or pretend not to be! That is life! I'm coming here, mamma!" + + + + +XVII. + + +Mrs. Maybough had an apartment in the Mandan Flats, and her windows +looked out over miles of the tinted foliage of the Park, and down +across the avenue into one of the pretty pools which light up its +woodland reaches. The position was superb, and the Mandan was in some +sort worthy of it. The architect had done his best to give unity and +character to its tremendous mass, and he had failed in much less +measure than the architects of such buildings usually do. Cornelia +dismounted into the dirty street in front of it from a shabby +horse-car, and penetrated its dimmed splendors of mosaic pavement and +polished granite pillars and frescoed vaults, with a heart fluttered by +a hall-boy all over buttons, and a janitor in blue and silver livery, +and an elevator-man in like keeping with American ideals. She was +disgusted with herself that she should be so scared, and she was +ashamed of the relief she felt when a servant in plain clothes opened +Mrs. Maybough's door to her; she knew he must be a servant because he +had on a dress-coat and a white tie, and she had heard the Burtons joke +about how they were always taking the waiters for clergymen at first in +Europe, He answered her with subdued respectfulness when she asked for +the ladies, and then he went forward and for the first time in her life +she heard her name called into a drawing-room, as she had read it was +done in England, but never could imagine it. The man held aside the +portiere for her to pass, but before she could pass there came a kind +of joyous whoop from within, a swishing of skirts toward her, and she +was caught in the arms of Charmian, who kissed her again and again, and +cried out over her goodness in coming. + +"Why, didn't you expect me?" Cornelia asked bluntly. + +"Yes, but I was just pretending you wouldn't come, or something had +happened to keep you, so that I could have the good of the revulsion +when you did come, and feel that it was worth all I had suffered. Don't +you like to do that?" + +"I don't believe I ever did it," said Cornelia. + +"That's what makes you so glorious," Charmian exulted. "You don't +_need_ to do such things. You're equal to life as it comes. But I have +to prepare myself for it every way I can. Don't you see?" + +She led her, all embraced, into the drawing-room, where she released +her to the smooth welcome of Mrs. Maybough. There was no one else in +the vast, high room which was lit with long windows and darkened again +with long, thick curtains, but was still light enough to let Cornelia +see the elaborate richness of Mrs. Maybough's dress and the simple +richness of Charmian's. She herself wore her street-dress and she did +not know whether she ought to keep her hat on or not; but Charmian said +she must pour tea with her, and she danced Cornelia down the splendid +length of the three great salons opening into each other along the +front of the apartment, toward her own room where she said she must +leave it. The drawing-room was a harmony of pictures so rich and soft, +and rugs so rich and soft, that the colors seemed to play from wall to +floor and back again in the same mellow note; the dimness of the +dining-room was starred with the glimmer of silver and cut-glass and +the fainter reflected light of polished mahogany; the library was a +luxury of low leather chairs and lounges, lurking window-seats, +curtained in warm colors, and shelves full of even ranks of books in +French bindings of blue and green leather. There was a great carved +library table in front of the hearth where a soft-coal fire flickered +with a point or two of flame; on the mantel a French clock of classic +architecture caught the eye with the gleam of its pendulum as it +vibrated inaudibly. It was all extremely well done, infinitely better +done than Cornelia could have known. It was tasteful and refined, with +the taste and refinement of the decorator who had wished to produce the +effect of long establishment and well-bred permanency; the Mandan Flats +were really not two years old, and Mrs. Maybough had taken her +apartment in the spring and had been in it only a few weeks. + +"Now all this is _mamma_," Charmian said, suffering Cornelia to pause +for a backward glance at the rooms as she pushed open a door at the +side of the library. "I simply endure it because it's in the bargain. +But it's no more me than my gown is. This is where I _stay_, when I'm +with mamma, but I'm going to show you where I _live_, where I _dream_." +She glided down the electric-lighted corridor where they found +themselves, and apologized over her shoulder to Cornelia behind her: +"Of course, you can't have an attic in a flat; and anything like rain +on the roof is practically impossible; but I've come as near to it as I +could. Be careful! Here are the stairs." She mounted eight or ten steps +that crooked upward, and flung wide a door at the top of the landing. +It gave into a large room fronting northward and lighted with one wide +window; the ceiling sloped and narrowed down to this from the +quadrangular vault, and the cool gray walls rose not much above +Cornelia's head where they met the roof. They were all stuck about with +sketches in oil and charcoal. An easel with a canvas on it stood +convenient to the light; a flesh-tinted lay-figure in tumbled drapery +drooped limply in a corner; a table littered with palettes and brushes +and battered tubes of color was carelessly pushed against the window; +there were some lustrous rugs hung up beside the door; the floor was +bare except for a great tiger-skin, with the head on, that sprawled in +front of the fire-place. This was very simple, with rough iron +fire-dogs; the low mantel was scattered with cigarettes, cigars in +Chinese bronze vases at either end, and midway a medley of pipes, +long-stemmed in clay and stubbed in briar-wood. + +"Good gracious!" said Cornelia. "Do you smoke?" + +"Not yet," Charmian answered gravely, "but I'm going to learn: +Bernhardt does. These are just some pipes that I got the men at the +Synthesis to give me; pipes are so full of character. And isn't this +something _like_?" She invited Cornelia to a study of the place by +turning about and looking at it herself. "It seemed as if it never +_would_ come together, at one time. Everything was in it, just as it +should be; and then I found it was the ridiculous ceiling that was the +trouble. It came to me like a flash, what to do, and I got this canvas +painted the color of the walls, and sloped so as to cut off half the +height of the room; and now it's a perfect symphony. You wouldn't have +thought it wasn't a real ceiling?" + +"No, I shouldn't," said Cornelia, as much surprised as Charmian could +have wished. + +"You can imagine what a relief it is to steal away here from all that +unreality of mamma's, down there, and give yourself up to the truth of +art; I just draw a long breath when I get in here, and leave the world +behind me. Why, when I get off here alone, for a minute, I unlace!" + +Cornelia went about looking at the sketches on the walls; they were all +that mixture of bad drawing and fantastic thinking which she was used +to in the things Charmian scribbled over her paper at the Synthesis. +She glanced toward the easel, but Charmian said, "Don't look at it! +There's nothing there; I haven't decided what I shall do yet. I did +think I should paint this tiger skin, but I don't feel easy painting +the skin of a tiger I haven't killed myself. If I could get mamma to +take me out to India and let me shoot one! But don't you think the +whole place is perfect? I've tried to make it just what a studio ought +to be, and yet keep it free from pose, don't you know?" + +"Yes," said Cornelia. "I've never seen a studio, before." + +"You poor thing, you don't mean it!" cried Charmian in deep pity. +Cornelia said nothing, and Charmian went on with an air of candor, +"Well, I haven't seen a great many myself--only two or three--but I +know how they are, and it's easy enough to realize one. What I want is +to have the atmosphere of art about me, all the time. I'm like a fish +out of water when I'm out of the atmosphere of art. I intend to spend +my whole time here when I'm not at the Synthesis." + +"I should think it would be a good place to work," Cornelia conceded. + +"Yes, and I _am_ going to work here," said Charmian. "The great trouble +with me is that I have so many things in my mind I don't know which to +begin on first. That's why the Synthesis is so good for me; it +concentrates me, if it _is_ on a block hand. _You're_ concentrated by +nature, and so you can't feel what a glorious pang it is to be fixed to +one spot like a butterfly with a pin through you. I don't see how I +ever lived without the Synthesis. I'm going to have a wolf-hound--as +soon as I can get a good-tempered one that the man can lead out in the +Park for exercise--to curl up here in front of the fire; and I'm going +to have foils and masks over the chimney. As soon as I'm a member of +the Synthesis I'm going to get them to let me be one of the monitors: +that'll concentrate me, if anything will, keeping the rest in order, +and I can get a lot of ideas from posing the model; don't you think so? +But _you've_ got all the ideas you want, already. Aren't you going to +join the sketch class?" + +"I don't know but I am," said Cornelia. "I haven't got quite turned +round yet." + +"Well, you must do it. I'm going to have the class here, some day, as +soon as I get the place in _perfect_ order. I must have a suit of +Japanese armor for that corner, over there; and then two or three of +those queer-looking, old, long, faded trunks, you know, with eastern +stuffs gaping out of them, to set along the wall. I should be ashamed +to have anybody see it now; but you have an eye, you can supply every +thing with a glance. I'm going to have a bed made up in the alcove, +over there, and sleep here, sometimes: just that broad lounge, you +know, with some rugs on it--I've got the cushions, you see, +already--and mice running over you, for the crumbs you've left when +you've got hungry sitting up late. Are you afraid of mice?" + +"Well, I shouldn't care to have them run over me, much," said Cornelia. + +"Well, I shouldn't either," said Charmian, "but if you sleep in your +studio, sometime you _have_ to. They all do. Just put your hat in +here," and she glided before Cornelia through the studio door into one +that opened beside it. The room was a dim and silent bedchamber, +appointed with the faultless luxury that characterized the rest of the +apartment. Cornelia had never dreamt of anything like it, but "_Don't_ +look at it!" Charmian pleaded. "I hate it, and I'm going to get into +the studio to sleep as soon as I've thought out the kind of hangings. +Well, we shall have to hurry back now," but she kept Cornelia while she +critically rearranged a ribbon on her, and studied the effect of it +over her shoulder in the glass. "Yes," she said, with a deep sigh of +satisfaction, "perfectly Roman! Gladys wouldn't have done for you. +Cornelia was a step in the right direction; but it ought to have been +Fulvia. + + "'I should have clung to Fulvia's waist and thrust + The dagger through her side,'" + +she chanted tragically; and she flung her arms about Cornelia for +illustration. "_Dream of Fair Women_, you know. What part are you going +to play, today?" + +"What part?" Cornelia demanded, freeing herself, with her darkest frown +of perplexity. "You're not going to have theatricals, I hope." She +thought it was going pretty far to receive company Sunday afternoon, +and if there was to be anything more she was ready to take her stand +now. + +Charmian gave a shout of laughter. "I wish we were. Then I could be +_natural_. But I mean, what are you going to be: very gentle and mild +and sweet and shrinking; or very philosophical and thoughtful; or very +stately and cold and remote? You know you have to be _something_. Don't +you always plan out the character you want them to think you?" + +"No," said Cornelia, driven to her bluntest by the discomfort she felt +at such a question, and the doubt it cast her into. + +Charmian looked at her gloomily. "You strange creature!" she murmured. +"But I love you," she added aloud. "I simply idolize you!" + +Cornelia said, half-laughing, "Don't be ridiculous," and pulled herself +out of the embrace which her devotee had thrown about her. But she +could not help liking Charmian for seeming to like her so much. + + + + +XVIII. + + +They still had some time with Mrs. Maybough, when they went back to her +before any one else came; Cornelia could see that her features were +rather small and regular, and that her hair was that sort of elderly +blond in color which makes people look younger than they are after they +have passed a certain age. She was really well on in the thirties when +she went out to Leadville to take charge of Charmian Maybough's +education from the New England town where she had always lived, and +ended by marrying Charmian's father. At that time Andrew Maybough had +already made and lost several fortunes without great depravation from +the immoralities of the process; he remained, as he had always been, a +large, loosely good-natured, casual kind of creature, of whom it was a +question whether he would not be buried by public subscription, in the +end; but he died so opportunely that he left the widow of his second +marriage with the income from a million dollars, which she was to share +during her lifetime with the child of his first. Mrs. Maybough went +abroad with her step-daughter, and most of the girl's life had been +spent in Europe. + +There was a good deal of Dresden in their sojourn, something of +Florence, necessarily a little of Paris; it was not altogether wanting +in London, where Mrs. Maybough was presented at court. But so far as +definitively materialized society was concerned, Europe could not be +said to have availed. When she came back to her own country, it was +without more than the hope that some society people, whom she had met +abroad, might remember her. + +"You'll see the greatest lot of frumps, if they ever do come," Charmian +said to Cornelia, after her stepmother had made her excuses to Cornelia +for her friends being rather late, "and I don't think they're half as +uncertain to come as mamma does. Anyway, they're certain to stay, after +they get here, till you want to rise up and howl." + +"My dear!" said Mrs. Maybough. + +"Oh, I don't suppose I ever _shall_ howl. I'm too thoroughly subdued; +and with Cornelia here to-day I shall be able to hold in. You're the +first Synthesis girl," she frankly explained to Cornelia, "that mamma's +ever let me have. She thinks they spend all their time drawing the +nude." + +Mrs. Maybough looked at Cornelia for the effect of this boldness upon +her, and the girl frowned to keep herself from laughing, and then gave +way. Mrs. Maybough smiled with a ladylike decorum which redeemed the +excess from impropriety. Charmian seemed to know the bounds of her +license, and as if Mrs. Maybough's smile had marked them, she went no +farther, and her mother began softly to question Cornelia about +herself. The girl perceived that Charmian had not told her anything +quite right concerning her, but had got everything dramatically and +picturesquely awry. She tried to keep Cornelia from setting the facts +straight, because it took all the romance out of them, and she said she +should always believe them as she had reported them. Cornelia knew from +novels that they were very humble facts, but she was prepared to abide +by them whatever a great society woman like Mrs. Maybough should think +of them. Mrs. Maybough seemed to think none the worse of them in the +simple angularity which Cornelia gave them. + +Her friends began to come in at last, and Cornelia found herself, for +the first time, in a company of those modern nomads whom prosperity and +the various forms of indigestion have multiplied among us. They were +mostly people whom Mrs. Maybough had met in Europe, drinking different +waters and sampling divers climates, and they had lately arrived home, +or were just going abroad, or to Florida, or Colorado, or California. +The men were not so sick as the women, but they were prosperous, and +that was as good or as bad a reason for their homelessness. They +gradually withdrew from the ladies, and stirred their tea in groups of +their own sex, and talked investments; sometimes they spoke of their +diseases, or their hotels and steamers; and they took advice of each +other about places to go to if they went in this direction or that, but +said that, when it came to it they supposed they should go where their +wives decided. The ladies spoke of where they had met last, and of some +who had died since, or had got their daughters married; they professed +a generous envy of Mrs. Maybough for being so nicely settled, and said +that now they supposed she would always live in New York, unless, one +of them archly suggested, her daughter should be carried off somewhere; +if one had such a lovely daughter it was what one might expect to +happen, any day. + + + + +XIX. + + +The part that Charmian had chosen to represent must have been that of +an Egyptian slave. She served her mother's guests with the tea that +Cornelia poured, in attitudes of the eldest sculptures and mural +paintings, and received their thanks and compliments with the passive +impersonality of one whose hope in life had been taken away some time +in the reign of Thotmes II. She did not at once relent from her +self-sacrificial conception of herself, even under the flatteries of +the nice little fellow who had decorated the apartment for Mrs. +Maybough, and had come to drink a cup of tea in the environment of his +own taste. Perhaps this was because he had been one of the first to +note the peculiar type of Charmian's style and beauty, and she wished +to keep him in mind of it. He did duty as youth and gayety beside the +young ladies at their tea-urn, and when he learned that Cornelia was +studying at the Synthesis, he professed a vivid interest and a great +pleasure. + +"I want Huntley to paint Miss Maybough," he said. "Don't you think he +would do it tremendously well, Miss Saunders?" + +"Miss Saunders is going to paint me," said Charmian, mystically. + +"As soon as I get to the round," said Cornelia to Charmian; she was +rather afraid to speak to the decorator. "I suppose you wouldn't want +to be painted with block hands." + +The decorator laughed, and Charmian asked, "Isn't she nice not to say +anything about a block head? Very few Synthesis girls could have helped +it; it's one of the oldest Synthesis jokes." + +The young man smiled sympathetically, and said he was sure they would +not keep Miss Saunders long at the block. "There's a friend of mine I +should like to bring here, some day." + +"Mamma would be glad to see him," said Charmian. "Who is it?" + +Somebody began to sing: a full-bodiced lady, in a bonnet, and with an +over-arching bust distended with chest-notes, which swelled and sank +tumultuously to her music; her little tightly-gloved hands seemed of an +earlier period. Cornelia lost the name which Mr. Plaisdell gave, in the +first outburst, and caught nothing more of the talk which Charmian +dropped, and then caught up again when the hand-clapping began. + +Some of the people went, and others came, with brief devoirs to Mrs. +Maybough in the crepuscular corner where she sat. The tea circulated +more and more; the babble rose and fell; it was all very curious to +Cornelia, who had never seen anything like it before, and quite lost +the sense of the day being Sunday. The stout lady's song had been +serious, if not precisely devotional in character; but Cornelia could +not have profited by the fact, for she did not know German. Mr. +Plaisdell kept up his talk with Charmian, and she caught some words now +and then that showed he was still speaking of his friend, or had +recurred to him. "I'm rather dangerous when I get started on him. He's +working out of his mannerisms into himself. He's a great fellow. I'm +going to ask Mrs. Maybough." But he did not go at once. He drew nearer +Cornelia, and tried to include her in the talk, but she was ashamed to +find that she was difficult to get on common ground. She would not keep +on talking Synthesis, as if that were the only thing she knew, but in +fact she did not know much else in New York, even about art. + +"Ah!" he broke off to Charmian, with a lift of his head. "That's _too_ +bad! There he comes now, with Wetmore!" + +Cornelia looked toward Mrs. Maybough with him. One gentleman was +presenting another to Mrs. Maybough. They got through with her as +quickly as most people did, and then they made their way toward +Cornelia's table. She had just time to govern her head and hand into +stony rigidity, when Wetmore came up with Ludlow, whom he introduced to +Charmian. She was going to extend the acquaintance to Cornelia, but had +no chance before Ludlow took Cornelia's petrified fingers and bowed +over them. The men suppressed their surprise, if they had any, at this +meeting as of old friends, but Charmian felt no obligation to silence. + +"Where in the world have you met before? Why, Cornelia Saunders, why +didn't you say you knew Mr. Ludlow?" + +"I'm afraid I didn't give her time," Ludlow answered. + +"Yes, but we were just speaking of you--Mr. Plaisdell was!" said +Charmian, with the injury still in her voice. + +"I didn't hear you speak of him," Cornelia said, with a vague flutter +of her hands toward the teacups. + +The action seemed to justify Wetmore to himself in saying, "Yes, thank +you, I _will_ have some tea, Miss Saunders, and then I'll get some one +to introduce me to you. You haven't seen _me_ before, and I can't stand +these airs of Ludlow's." He made them laugh, and Charmian introduced +them, and Cornelia gave him his tea; then Charmian returned to her +grievance and complained to Cornelia: "I thought you didn't know +anybody in New York." + +"Well, it seems you were not far wrong," Wetmore interposed. "I don't +call Ludlow much of anybody." + +"You don't often come down to anything as crude as that, Wetmore," +Ludlow said. + +"Not if I can help it. But I was driven to it, this time; the +provocation was great." + +"I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Saunders at home, several years +ago," Ludlow said in obedience to Charmian. "We had some very +delightful friends in common, there--old friends of mine--at +Pymantoning." + +"What a pretty name," said Mr. Plaisdell. "What a pity that none of our +great cities happen to have those musical Indian names." + +"Chicago," Wetmore suggested. + +"Yes, Chicago is big, and the name is Indian; but is it pretty?" + +"You can't have everything. I don't suppose it is very decorative." + +"Pymantoning is as pretty as its name," said Ludlow. "It has the +loveliness of a level, to begin with; we're so besotted with mountains +in the East that we don't know how lovely a level is." + +"The sea," Wetmore suggested again. + +"Well, yes, that's occasionally level," Ludlow admitted. "But it hasn't +got white houses with green blinds behind black ranks of maples in the +moonlight." + +"If 'good taste' could have had its way, the white house with green +blinds would have been a thing of the past." said the decorator. "And +they were a genuine instinct, an inspiration, with our people. The +white paint is always beautiful,--as marble is. People tried to replace +it with mud-color--the color of the ground the house was built on! I +congratulate Miss Saunders on the conservatism of Py--?" + +"Pymantoning," said Cornelia, eager to contribute something to the +talk, and then vexed to have it made much of by Mr. Plaisdell. + +Wetmore was looking away. He floated lightly off, with the buoyancy +which is sometimes the property of people of his bulk, and Ludlow +remained talking with Charmian. Then, with what was like the insensible +transition of dreams to her, he was talking with Cornelia. He said he +had been meaning to come and see her all the week past, but he had been +out of town, and very busy, and he supposed she was occupied with +looking about and getting settled. He did not make out a very clear +case, she chose to think, and she was not sure but he was treating her +still as a child, and she tried to think how she could make him realize +that she was not. He seemed quite surprised to hear that she had been +at work in the Synthesis ever since Tuesday. He complimented her +energy, and asked, not how she was getting on there, but how she liked +it; she answered stiffly, and she knew that he was ignoring her blunt +behavior as something she could not help, and that vexed her the more; +she wished to resist his friendliness because she did not deserve it. +She kept seeing how handsome he was, with his brilliant brown beard, +and his hazel eyes. There were points of sunny light in his eyes, when +he smiled, and then his teeth shone very white. He did not smile very +much; she liked his being serious and not making speeches; she wished +she could do something to make him think her less of an auk, but when +she tried, it was only worse. He did not say anything to let her think +he had changed his mind as to the wisdom of her coming to study art in +New York; and she liked that; she should have hated him if he had. + +"Have you got that little Manet, yet?" Mr. Plaisdell broke in upon +them. "I was telling Miss Maybough about it." + +"Yes," said Ludlow. "It's at my place. Why won't Miss Maybough and Miss +Saunders come and see it? You'll come, won't you, Miss Maybough?" + +"If mamma will let me," said Charmian, meekly. + +"Of course! Suppose we go ask her?" + +The friends of Mrs. Maybough had now reduced themselves to Wetmore, who +sat beside her, looking over at the little tea-table group. Ludlow led +the rest toward her. + +"What an imprudence," he called out, "when I'd just been booming you! +Now you come up in person to spoil everything." + +Ludlow presented his petition, and Mrs. Maybough received it with her +provisional anxiety till he named the day for the visit. She said she +had an engagement for Saturday afternoon, and Ludlow ventured, "Then +perhaps you'd let the young ladies come with a friend of mine: Mrs. +Westley. She'll be glad to call for them, I'm sure." + +"Mrs. General Westley?" + +"Yes." + +"We met them in Rome," said Mrs. Maybough. "I shall be very happy, +indeed, for my daughter. But you know Miss Saunders--is not staying +with us?" + +"Miss Saunders will be very happy for herself," said Charmian. + +The men took their leave, and Charmian seized the first moment to +breathe in Cornelia's ear: "Oh, what luck! I didn't suppose he _would_ +do it, when I got Mr. Plaisdell to hint about that Manet. And it's all +for you. Now come into my room and tell me everything about it. You +have got to stay for dinner." + +"No, no; I can't," Cornelia gasped. "And I'm not going to his studio. +He asked me because he had to." + +"I should think he did _have_ to. He talked to you as if there was no +one else here. How _did_ you meet him before? _When_ did you?" She +could not wait for Cornelia to say, but broke out with fresh +astonishment. "Why, Walter Ludlow! Do you know who Walter _Ludlow_ is? +He's one of the greatest painters in New York. He's the greatest!" + +"Who is Mr. Wetmore?" Cornelia asked evasively. + +"Don't name him in the same century! He's grand, too! Does those little +Meissonier things. He's going to paint mamma. She's one of his types. +He must have brought Mr. Ludlow to see me. But he didn't. He saw nobody +but you! Oh Cornelia!" She caught Cornelia in her arms. + +"Don't be a goose!" said Cornelia, struggling to get away. + +"Will you tell me all about it, then?" + +"Yes. But it isn't anything." + +At the end of the story Charmian sighed, "How romantic! Of course, he's +simply in a frenzy till he sees you again. I don't believe he can live +through the week." + +"He'll have to live through several," said Cornelia; "You can excuse me +when you go. He's very conceited, and he talks to you as if he were a +thousand years old. I think Mr. Plaisdell is a great deal nicer. He +doesn't treat you as if you were--I don't know what!" + + + + +XX. + + +The next day Cornelia found herself the object of rumors that filled +the Synthesis. She knew that they all came from Charmian, and that she +could not hope to overtake them with denial. The ridiculous romances +multiplied themselves, and those who did not understand that Cornelia +and Ludlow had grown up together in the same place, or were first +cousins, had been encouraged to believe that they were old lovers, who +had quarrelled, and never spoken till they happened to meet at Mrs. +Maybough's. Ludlow was noted for a certain reticence and austerity with +women, which might well have come from an unhappy love-affair; once +when he took one of the instructor's classes at the Synthesis +temporarily, his forbidding urbanity was so glacial, that the girls +scarcely dared to breathe in his presence, and left it half-frozen. The +severest of the masters, with all his sarcasm, was simply nothing to +him. + +Cornelia liked to hear that. She should have despised Ludlow if she had +heard he was silly with girls, and she did not wish to despise him, +though she knew that he despised her; she could bear that. The +Synthesis praises made her the more determined, however, to judge his +recent work when she came to see it, just as she would judge any one's +work. But first of all she meant not to see it. + +She seemed to have more trouble in bringing herself back to this point +than in keeping Charmian to it. Charmian came to believe her at last, +after declaring it the rudest thing she ever heard of, and asking +Cornelia what she expected to say to Mrs. Westley when she came for +her. Cornelia could never quite believe it herself, though she +strengthened her purpose with repeated affirmation, tacit and explicit, +and said it would be very easy to tell Mrs. Westley she was not going, +if she ever did come for her. She could not keep Charmian from +referring the case to every one on the steps and window-sills in the +Synthesis, and at the sketch-class, where Charmian published it the +first time Cornelia came, and wove a romance from it which involved +herself as the close friend and witness of so strange a being. + +Cornelia tried not to let all this interfere with her work, but it did, +and at the sketch-class where she might have shown some rebound from +the servile work of the Preparatory, and some originality, she +disappointed those whom Charmian had taught to expect anything of her. +They took her rustic hauteur and her professed indifference to the +distinction of Ludlow's invitation, as her pose. She went home from the +class vexed to tears by her failure, and puzzled to know what she +really should say to that Mrs. Westley when she came; it wouldn't be so +easy to tell her she was not going, after all. Cornelia hated her, and +wished she would not come; she had let the whole week go by, now, till +Thursday, and perhaps she really would not come. The girl knew so +little of the rigidity of city dates that she thought very likely Mrs. +Westley had decided to put it off till another week. + +She let herself into her boarding-house with her latch-key and stood +confronted in the hall with Ludlow, who was giving some charge to the +maid. "Oh, Miss Saunders," he said, and he put the card he held into +his pocket, "I'm so glad not to miss you; I was just leaving a written +message, but now I can tell you." + +He hesitated, and Cornelia did not know what to do. But she said, +"Won't you come in?" with a vague movement toward the parlor. + +"Why, yes, thank you, for a moment," he said; and he went back with +her. + +"I hope I haven't kept you waiting," she said, with a severity which +was for her own awkwardness. + +He did not take it for himself. "Oh, no! I've just come from Mrs. +Westley's, and she's charged me with a message for you." He handed +Cornelia a note. "She will call for you and Miss Maybough at the +Synthesis rather earlier than you usually leave work, I believe, but I +want you to have some daylight on my Manet. I hope half-past two won't +be too early?" + +"Oh, no," said Cornelia, and while she wondered how she could make this +opening of assent turn to refusal in the end, Ludlow went on: + +"There's something of my own, that I'd like to have you look at. Of +course, you won't get away with the Manet, alone; I don't suppose you +expected that. I've an idea you can tell me where I've gone wrong, if I +have; it's all a great while ago. Have you ever been at the County Fair +at Pymantoning since----" + +He stopped, and Cornelia perceived that it was with doubt whether it +might not still be a tender point with her. + +"Oh, yes, I've forgiven the Fair long ago." She laughed, and he laughed +with her. + +"It's best not to keep a grudge against a defeat, I suppose. If we do, +it won't help us. I've had my quarrel with the Pymantoning County Fair, +too; but it wasn't with the Fine Arts Committee." + +"No, I didn't suppose you wanted to exhibit anything there," said +Cornelia. + +"Why, I don't know. It might be a very good thing for me. Why not? I'd +like to exhibit this very picture there. It's an impression--not just +what I'd do, now--of the trotting-match I saw there that day." + +"Yes," said Cornelia, letting her eyes fall, "Mrs. Burton said you had +painted it, or you were going to." + +"Well, I did," said Ludlow, "and nobody seemed to know what I was +after. I wonder if they would in Pymantoning! But what I wanted to ask +was that you would try to look at it from the Pymantoning point of +view. I hope you haven't lost that yet?" + +"Well, I haven't been away such a great while," said Cornelia, smiling. + +"No; but still, one sophisticates in New York very soon. I'll tell you +what I've got a notion of! Well, it's all very much in the air, yet, +but so far as I've thought it out, it's the relation of our art to our +life. It sounds rather boring, I know, and I suppose I'm a bit of a +theorist; I always was. It's easy enough to prove to the few that our +life is full of poetry and picturesqueness; but can I prove it to the +many? Can the people themselves be made to see it and feel it? That's +the question. Can they be interested in a picture--a real work of art +that asserts itself in a good way? Can they be taught to care for my +impression of the trotting-match at the Pymantoning County Fair, as +much as they would for a chromo of the same thing, and be made to feel +that there was something more in it perhaps?" + +He sat fronting her, with his head down over the hat he held between +his hands; now he lifted his face and looked into hers. She smiled at +his earnestness, and for a little instant felt herself older and wiser +in her practicality. + +"You might send it out to the next County Fair, and see." + +"Why, that's just what I thought of!" he said, and he laughed. "Do you +suppose they would let me exhibit it in the Fine Arts Department?" + +"I don't believe they would give you the first premium," said Cornelia. + +"Well, well, then I should have to put up with the second! I should +like to get the first, I confess," Ludlow went on seriously. "The +premium would mean something to me--not so much, of course, as a +popular recognition. What do you think the chance of that would be?" + +"Well, I haven't seen the picture yet," Cornelia suggested. + +"Ah, that's true! I forgot that," he said, and they both laughed. "But +what do you think of my theory? It seems to me," and now he leaned back +in his chair, and smiled upon her with that bright earnestness which +women always found charming in him, "it seems to me that the worst +effect of an artist's life is to wrap him up in himself, and separate +him from his kind. Even if he goes in for what they call popular +subjects, he takes from the many and gives to the few; he ought to give +something back to the crowd--he ought to give everything back. But the +terrible question is whether they'll have it; and he has no means of +finding out." + +"And you've come to one of the crowd to inquire?" Cornelia asked. Up to +that moment she had been flattered, too, by his serious appeal to her, +and generously pleased. But the chance offered, and she perversely +seized it. + +He protested with a simple "Ah!" and she was ashamed. + +"I don't know," she hurried on to say. "I never thought about it in +that way." + +"Well, it isn't so simple any more, after you once begin. I don't +suppose I shall be at peace quite till I try what I can do; and seeing +you Sunday brought Pymantoning all so freshly back, that I've been +wondering, from time to time, ever since, whether you could possibly +help me." + +"I will try, as the good little boy said," Cornelia assented. + +"It makes me feel like a good little boy to have asked it." Ludlow did +not profit by the chance which the conclusion of their agreement +offered him, to go. He stayed and talked on, and from time to time he +recurred to what he had asked, and said he was afraid she would think +he was using her, and tried to explain that he really was not, but was +approaching her most humbly for her opinion. He could not make it out, +but they got better and better acquainted in the fun they had with his +failures. It went on till Cornelia said, "Now, really, if you keep it +up, I shall have to stand you in the corner, with your face to the +wall." + +"Oh, do!" he entreated. "It would be such a relief." + +"You know I _was_ a teacher two winters," she said, "and have actually +stood boys in corners." + +That seemed to interest him afresh; he made her tell him all about her +school-teaching. He stayed till the bell rang for dinner, and he +suffered a decent moment to pass before he rose then. + +"After all," he said at parting, "I think you'd better decide that it's +merely my Manet you're coming to see." + +"Yes, merely the Manet," Cornelia assented. "If I choose, the Ludlows +will all be stood in the corners with their faces to the wall." + +She found her own face very flushed, when she climbed up to her room +for a moment before going in to dinner, and her heart seemed to be +beating in her neck. She looked at Mrs. Westley's note. It stated +everything so explicitly that she did not see why Mr. Ludlow need have +come to explain. She remembered now that she had forgotten to tell him +she was not going. + + + + +XXI. + + +Cornelia thought Mrs. Westley would come for Charmian and herself in +her carriage; but when they went down to her in the Synthesis office, +they found that she had planned to walk with them to Ludlow's studio. +She said it was not a great way off; and she had got into the habit of +walking there, when he was painting her; she supposed they would rather +walk after their work. Cornelia said "Oh, yes," and Charmian asked, at +her perfervidest, Had Mr. Ludlow painted _her_? and Mrs. Westley +answered calmly. Yes; she believed he did not think it very successful; +her husband liked it, though. Charmian said, Oh, how much she should +like to see it, and Mrs. Westley said she must show it her some time. +Cornelia thought Mrs. Westley very pretty, but she decided that she did +not care to see Ludlow's picture of her. + +His studio stood a little back from the sidewalk; it was approached by +a broad sloping pavement, and had two wide valves for the doorway. He +opened the door himself, at their ring, and they found themselves in a +large, gray room which went to the roof, with its vaulted ceiling; this +was pierced with a vast window, that descended half-way down the +northward wall. "My studio started in life as a gentleman's stable; +then it fell into the hands of a sculptor, and then it got as low as a +painter." He said to Charmian, "Mr. Plaisdell has told me how +ingeniously you treated one of your rooms that you took for a studio." + +Charmian answered with dark humility, "But a studio without a painter +in it!" and there were some offers and refusals of compliment between +them, which ended in his saying that he would like to see her studio, +and her saying that Mrs. Maybough would always be glad to see him. Then +he talked with Mrs. Westley, who was very pleasant to Cornelia while +the banter with Charmian went on, and proposed to show his pictures; he +fancied that was what he had got them there, for; but he would make a +decent pretence of the Manet, first. + +The Manet was one of that painter's most excessive; it was almost +insolent in its defiance of the old theory and method of art. "He had +to go too far, in those days, or he wouldn't have arrived anywhere," +Ludlow said, dreamily, as he stood looking with them at the picture. +"He fell back to the point he had really meant to reach." He put the +picture away amidst the sighs and murmurs of Mrs. Westley and Charmian, +and the silence of Cornelia, which he did not try to break. He began to +show his own pictures, taking them at random, as it seemed, from the +ranks of canvasses faced against the wall. "You know we impressionists +are nothing if not prolific," he said, and he kept turning the frame on +his easel, now for a long picture, and now for a tall one. The praises +of the others followed him, but Cornelia could not speak. Some of the +pictures she did not like; some she thought were preposterous; but +there were some that she found brilliantly successful, and a few that +charmed her with their delicate and tender poetry. He said something +about most of them, in apology or extenuation; Cornelia believed that +she knew which he liked by his not saying anything of them. + +Suddenly he set a large picture on the easel that quite filled the +frame. "Trotting Match at the Pymantoning County Fair," he announced, +and he turned away and began to make tea in a little battered copper +kettle over a spirit-lamp, on a table strewn with color-tubes in the +corner. + +"Ah, yes," said Mrs. Westley. "I remember this at the American Artists; +three or four years ago, wasn't it? But you've done something to it, +haven't you?" + +"Improved with age," said Ludlow, with his back toward them, bent above +his tea-kettle. "That's all." + +"It seems like painting a weed, though," said Charmian. "How can you +care for such subjects?" + +Ludlow came up to her with the first cup of tea. "It's no use to paint +lilies, you know." + +"Do you call that an answer?" + +"A poor one." + +He brought Mrs. Westley some tea, and then he came to Cornelia with a +cup in each hand, one for her, and one for himself, and frankly put +himself between her and the others. "Well, what do you think of it?" he +asked, as if there were no one else but they two. + +She felt a warm flush of pleasure in his boldness. "I don't know. It's +like it; that's the way I've always seen it; and it's beautiful. But +somehow----" + +"What?" + +"It looks as if it were somewhere else." + +"You've hit it," said Ludlow. "It serves me right. You see I was so +anxious to prove that an American subject was just as susceptible of +impressionistic treatment as a French one, that I made this look as +French as I could. I must do it again and more modestly; not be so +patronizing. I should like to come out there next fall again, and see +another trotting-match. I suppose they'll have one?" + +"They always have them; it wouldn't be the Fair without them," said +Cornelia. + +"Well, I must come, and somehow do it on the spot; that's the only +way." He pulled himself more directly in front of her and ignored the +others, who talked about his picture with faded interest to each other, +and then went about, and looked at the objects in the studio. "I don't +think I made myself quite clear the other day, about what I wanted to +do in this way." He plunged into the affair again, and if Cornelia did +not understand it better, it was not for want of explanation. Perhaps +she did not listen very closely. All the time she thought how +brilliantly handsome he was, and how fine, by every worldly criterion. +"Yes," he said, "that is something I have been thinking of ever since +my picture failed with the public; it deserved to fail, and you've made +it so clear why, that I can't refuse to know, or to keep myself in the +dark about it any longer. I don't believe we can take much from the +common stock of life in any way, and find the thing at all real in our +hands, without intending to give something back. Do you?" + +Cornelia had never thought about it before; she did not try to pretend +that she had; it seemed a little fantastic to her, but it flattered her +to have him talk to her about it, and she liked his seriousness. He did +not keep up the kind of banter with her that he did with Charmian; he +did not pay her compliments, and she hated compliments from men. + +Ludlow went off to speak to Mrs. Westley of something he saw her +looking at; Charmian edged nearer to Cornelia. "I would give the world +to be in your place. I never saw anything like it. Keep on looking just +as you are! It's magnificent. Such color, and that queenly pose of the +head! It would kill those Synthesis girls if they knew how he had been +talking to you. My, if I could get anybody to be serious with _me_! +Talk! Say something! _Do you think its going to rain before we get +home?_ His eyes keep turning this way, all the time; you can't see +them, but they do. _I am glad I brought my umbrella. Have you got your +waterproof?_ I'm going to make you tell me every word he said when he +came to see you yesterday; it'll be mean if you don't. _No, I think I +shall go up by the elevated, and then take the surface-car across._ +It's the most romantic thing I ever heard of. _No, I don't believe it +will be dark._ Speak! Say something! You mustn't let me do all the +talking; he'll notice." + +Cornelia began to laugh, and Charmian turned away and joined Mrs. +Westley and Ludlow, who were tilting outward some of the canvasses +faced against the wall, and talking them over. Cornelia followed her, +and they all four loitered over the paintings, luxuriously giving a +glance at each, and saying a word or two about it. "Yes," Ludlow said, +"sometimes I used to do three or four of them a day. I work more slowly +now; if you want to get any thinking in, you've got to take time to +it." + +It was growing dark; Ludlow proposed to see them all home one after +another. Mrs. Westley said no, indeed; the Broadway car, at the end of +the second block, would leave her within three minutes of her door. + +"And nothing could happen in three minutes," said Ludlow. "That stands +to reason." + +"And _my_ one luxury is going home alone," said Charmian. "Mamma +doesn't allow it, except to and from the Synthesis. Then I'm an art +student and perfectly safe. If I were a young lady my life wouldn't be +worth anything." + +"Yes," Ludlow assented, "the great thing is to have some sort of +business to be where you are." + +"I know a girl who's in some of the charities, and she goes about at +all hours of the night, and nobody speaks to her," said Charmian. + +"Well, then," said Ludlow, "I don't see that there's anything for me to +do, unless we all go together with Mrs. Wesley to get her Broadway car, +and then keep on to the Elevated with you, Miss Maybough. Miss Saunders +may be frightened enough then to let me walk to her door with her. A +man likes to be of some little use in the world." + +They had some mild fun about the weakness of Cornelia in needing an +escort. She found it best to own that she did not quite know her way +home, and was afraid to ask if she got puzzled. + +Ludlow put out his spirit-lamp, which had been burning blue all the +time, and embittering the tea in the kettle over it, and then they +carried out their plan. Cornelia went before with Mrs. Westley, who +asked her to come to her on her day, whenever she could leave her work +for such a reckless dissipation. At the foot of the Elevated station +stairs, where Charmian inflexibly required that they should part with +her, in the interest of the personal liberty which she prized above +personal safety, she embraced Cornelia formally, and then added an +embrace of a more specific character, and whispered to her ear, "You're +glorious!" and fled up the station stairs. + +Cornelia understood that she was glorious because Mr. Ludlow was +walking home with her, and that Charmian was giving the fact a +significance out of all reason. They talked rather soberly, as two +people do when a gayer third has left them, and they had little +silences. They spoke of Charmian, and Cornelia praised her beauty and +her heart, and said how everybody liked her at the Synthesis. + +"Do they laugh at her a little, too?" Ludlow asked. + +"Why?" + +"She's rather romantic." + +"Oh, I thought all girls were romantic." + +"Yes? You're not." + +"What makes you think so?" asked the girl. "I'm a great deal more +romantic than is good for me. Don't you like romantic people? I do!" + +"I don't believe I do," said Ludlow. "They're rather apt to make +trouble. I don't mean Miss Maybough. She'll probably take it out in +madly impossible art. Can she draw?" + +Cornelia did not like to say what she thought of Charmian's drawing, +exactly. She said, "Well, I don't know." + +Ludlow hastened to say, "I oughtn't to have asked that about your +friend." + +"We're both in the Preparatory, you know," Cornelia explained. "I think +Charmian has a great deal of imagination." + +"Well, that's a good thing, if it doesn't go too far. Fortunately it +can't, in the Preparatory." + +At her door Cornelia did not know whether to ask him in, as she would +have done in Pymantoning; she ended by not even offering him her hand; +but he took it all the same, as if he had expected her to offer it. + + + + +XXII. + + +Cornelia found herself in her room without knowing how she got there, +or how long she had been there, when the man-voiced Irish girl came up +and said something to her. She did not understand at first; then she +made out that there was a gentleman asking for her in the parlor; and +with a glance at her face in the glass, she ran down stairs. She knew +it was Ludlow, and that he had thought of something he wanted to say, +and had come back. It must be something very important; it might be an +invitation to go with him somewhere; she wondered if they would have a +chaperone. + +In the vague light of the long parlor, where a single burner was turned +half up, because it was not yet dark outside, a figure rose from one of +the sofas and came toward her with one hand extended in gay and even +jocose greeting. It was the figure of a young man, with a high +forehead, and with nothing to obstruct the view of the Shakespearian +dome it mounted into, except a modest growth of hair above either ear. +He was light upon his feet, and he advanced with a rhythmical step. +Cornelia tried to make believe that she did not know who it was; she +recoiled, but her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth, and she could +not gainsay him when he demanded joyfully, "Why, Nie! Why, Nelie! Don't +you remember me? Dickerson, J. B., with Gates & Clarkson, art goods? +Pymantoning? Days of yore, generally? Oh, pshaw, now!" + +"Yes, I remember you," said Cornelia, in a voice as cold as the +finger-tips which she inwardly raged to think she gave him, but was +helpless to refuse, simply because he was holding out his hand to her. + +"Well, it's good for sore eyes to see you again," said Mr. Dickerson, +closing both of his hands on hers. "Let's see; it's four years ago! How +the time flies! I declare, it don't hardly seem a day. Mustn't tell you +how you've grown, I suppose? Well, we _weren't_ much more than +children, then, anyhow. Set down! I'm at home here. Old stamping-ground +of mine, when I'm in New York; our house has its headquarters in New +York, now; everything's got to come, sooner or later. Well, it's a +great place." + +Cornelia obeyed him for the same reason that she gave him her hand, +which was no reason. "I heard your voice there at the door, when you +came in a little while ago, and I was just going to rush out and speak +to you. I was sure it was you; but thinks I, 'It can't be; it's too +good to be true'; and I waited till I could see Mrs. Montgomery, and +then I sent up for you. Didn't send my name; thought I'd like to +surprise you. Well, how's the folks? Mother still doing business at the +old stand? Living and well, I hope?" + +"My mother is well," said Cornelia. She wondered how she should rid +herself of this horrible little creature, who grew, as she looked at +him in her fascination, more abominable to her every moment. She was +without any definite purpose in asking, "How is Mrs. Dickerson?" + +The question appeared to give Mr. Dickerson great satisfaction; he +laughed, throwing back his head: "Who, Tweet? Well, I thought you'd be +after me there, about the first thing! I don't blame you; don't blame +you a bit. Be just so myself, if I was in your place! Perfectly natural +you should! Then you ain't heard?" + +"I don't know what you mean," said Cornelia, with mounting aversion. +She edged away from him, for in the expression of his agreeable emotion +he had pushed nearer to her on the sofa. + +"Why, Tweet is Mrs. Byers, now; court let her take back her maiden +name. I didn't oppose the divorce; nothing like peace in families, you +know. Tweet was all right, and I hain't got anything to say against +her. _She's_ a good girl; but we couldn't seem to hit it off, and we +agreed to quit, after we'd tried it a couple of years or so, and I've +been a free man ever since." + +It could not be honestly said that Cornelia was profoundly revolted by +the facts so lightly, almost gaily, presented. Her innocence of so much +that they implied, and her familiarity with divorce as a common +incident of life, alike protected her from the shock. But what really +struck terror to her heart was something that she realized with the +look that the hideous little man now bent upon her: the mutual +understanding; the rights once relinquished which might now be urged +again; the memory of things past, were all suggested in this look. She +thought of Ludlow, with his lofty ideals and his great gifts, and then +she looked at this little grinning, leering wretch, and remembered how +he had once put his arm round her and kissed her. It seemed +impossible--too cruel and unjust to be. She was scarcely more than a +child, then, and that foolish affair had been more her mother's folly +than her own. It flashed upon her that unless she put away the shame of +it, the shame would weaken her and master her. But how to assert +herself she did not know till he gave her some pretext. + +"Well," he sighed, rolling his head against the back of the sofa, and +looking up at the chandelier, "sometimes a man has more freedom than +he's got any use for. I don't know as I want to be back under Tweet's +thumb, but I guess the Scripture was about right where it says it ain't +good for a man to be alone. When d'you leave Pymantoning, Nelie?" + +"It makes no difference when I left." Cornelia got to her feet, +trembling. "And I'll thank you not to call me by my first name, Mr. +Dickerson. I don't know why you should do it, and I don't like it." + +"Oh, all right, all right," said Mr. Dickerson. "I don't blame you. I +think you're perfectly excusable to feel the way you do. But some time, +when I get a chance, I should like to tell you about it, and put it to +you in the right light----" + +"I don't want to hear about it," cried Cornelia fiercely. "And I won't +have you thinking that it's because I ever did care for you. I didn't. +And I was only too glad when you got married. And I don't hate you, for +I despise you too much; and I always did. So!" + +She stamped her foot for a final emphasis, but she was aware of her +words all having fallen effectless, like blows dealt some detestable +thing in a dream. + +"Good! Just what I expected and deserved," said Mr. Dickerson, with a +magnanimity that was appalling. "I did behave like a perfect scallawag +to you, Nie; but I was young then, and Tweet got round me before I +knew. I can explain----" + +"I don't want you to explain! I won't let you. You're too disgusting +for anything. Don't I tell you I _never_ cared for you?" + +"Why, of course," said Mr. Dickerson tolerantly, "you say that now; and +I don't blame you. But _I_ guess you _did_ care, once, Nelie." + +"Oh, my goodness, what shall I do?" She found herself appealing in some +sort to the little wretch against himself. + +"Why, let's see how you look; I hain't had a fair peep at you, yet." As +if with the notion of affording a relief to the strain of the +situation, he advanced, and lifted his hand toward the low-burning +chandelier. + +"Stop!" cried Cornelia. "Are you staying here--in this house?" + +"Well, I inferred that I was, from a remark that I made." + +"Then I'm going away instantly. I will tell Mrs. Montgomery, and I will +go to-night." + +"Why, Nie!" + +"Hush! Don't you--don't dare to speak to me! Oh, you--you----" She +could not find a word that would express all her loathing of him, and +her scorn of herself in the past for having given him the hold upon her +that nothing appeared to have loosed. She was putting on a bold front, +and she meant to keep her word, but if she left that house, she did not +know where, in the whole vast city, she should go. Of course she could +go to Charmian Maybough; but besides bring afraid to venture out after +dark, she knew she would have to tell Charmian all about it; or else +make a mystery of it; there was nothing, probably, that Charmian would +have liked better, but there was nothing that Cornelia would have liked +less. She wanted to cry; it always seems hard and very unjust to us, in +after life, when some error or folly of our youth rises up to perplex +us; and Cornelia was all the more rebellious because the fault was not +wholly hers, or not even largely, but mostly her dear, innocent, unwise +mother's. + +Mr. Dickerson dropped his hand without turning up the gas; perhaps he +did not need a stronger light on Cornelia, after all. "Oh, well! I +don't want to drive you out of the house. I'll go. I've got my grip out +here in the hall. But see here! I told Mrs. Montgomery we hailed from +the same place--children together, and I don't know but what +cousins--and how glad I was to find you here, and now if I leave---- +Better let me stay here, over night, anyhow! I'm off on the road +to-morrow, anyway. I won't trouble you; I won't, indeed. Now you can +depend upon it. Word's as good as my bond, if my bond _ain't_ worth a +great deal. But, honor bright!" + +Cornelia's heart, which stood still at the threat she made, began to +pound in her breast. She panted so that she could hardly speak. + +"Will you call me by my first name?" she demanded. + +"No. You shall be Miss Saunders to me till you say when." + +"And will you ever speak to me, or look at me, as if we were ever +anything but the most perfect strangers?" + +"It'll be a good deal of a discount from what I told Mrs. Montgomery, +but I guess I shall have to promise." + +"And you will go in the morning?" + +"Sure." + +"How soon?" + +"Well, I don't like a _very_ early breakfast, but I guess I can get out +of the house by about nine, or half-past eight, maybe." + +"Then you may stay." Cornelia turned and marched out of the parlor with +a state that failed her more and more, the higher she mounted toward +her room. If it had been a flight further she would have had to crawl +on her hands and knees. + +At first she thought she would not go down to dinner, but after a while +she found herself very hungry, and she decided she must go for +appearance sake at any rate. At the bottom of her heart, too, she was +curious to see whether that little wretch would keep his word. + +He was the life of the table. His jokes made everybody laugh; it could +be seen that he was a prime favorite with the landlady. After the +coffee came he played a great many tricks with knives and forks and +spoons, and coins. He dressed one of his hands, all but two fingers, +with a napkin which he made like the skirts of a ballet-dancer, and +then made his fingers dance a hornpipe. He tried a skirt-dance with +them later, but it was comparatively a failure, for want of practice, +he said. + +Toward Cornelia he behaved with the most scrupulous deference, even +with delicacy, as if they had indeed met in former days, but as if she +were a person of such dignity and consequence that their acquaintance +could only have been of the most formal character. He did it so well, +and seemed to take such a pleasure in doing it that she blushed for +him. Some of the things he said to the others were so droll that she +had to laugh at them. But he did not presume upon her tolerance. + + + + +XXIII. + + +The false courage that supported her in Dickerson's presence left +Cornelia when she went back to her room, and she did not sleep that +night, or she thought she did not. She came down early for a cup of +coffee, and the landlady told her that Mr. Dickerson had just gone; he +wished Mrs. Montgomery to give Cornelia his respects, and apologize for +his going away without waiting to see her again. He had really expected +to stay over till Monday, but he found he could save several days by +taking the Chicago Limited that morning. Mrs. Montgomery praised his +energy; she did not believe he would be on the road a great while +longer; he would be in the firm in less than another year. She hinted +at his past unhappiness in the married state, and she said she did hope +that he would get somebody who would appreciate him, next time. There +did not seem to be any doubt in her mind that there would be a next +time with him. + +Cornelia wanted to ask whether she expected him back soon; she could +not; but she resolved that whenever he came he should not find her in +that house. She thought where she should go, and what excuse she should +make for going, what she should tell Charmian, or Mr. Ludlow, if she +ever saw him again. It seemed to her that she had better go home, but +Cornelia hated to give up; she could not bear to be driven away. She +went to church, to escape herself, and a turmoil of things alien to the +place and the hour whirled through her mind during the service; she +came out spent with a thousand-fold dramatization of her relations to +Mr. Dickerson and to Mr. Ludlow. She sat down on a bench in the little +park before the church, and tried to think what she ought to do, while +the children ran up and down the walks, and the people from the +neighboring East Side avenues, in their poor Sunday best, swarmed in +the square for the mild sun and air of the late October. The street +cars dinned ceaselessly up and down, and back and forth; the trains of +the Elevated hurtled by on the west and on the east; the troubled city +roared all round with the anguish of the perpetual coming and going; +but it was as much Sunday there as it would have been on the back +street in Pymantoning where her mother's little house stood. The leaves +that dripped down at her feet in the light warm breaths of wind passing +over the square might have fallen from the maple before the gate at +home. The awful unity of life for the first time appeared to her. Was +it true that you could not get away from what you had been? Was that +the meaning of that little wretch's coming back to claim her after he +had forfeited every shadow of right to her that even her mother's +ignorance and folly had given him? Then it meant that he would come +back again and again, and never stop coming. She made believe that if +she looked up, she should now see him actually coming down the path +toward her; she held her eyes fixed upon the ground at her feet, and +then it seemed to her every moment that he was just going to take the +seat next her. The seat was already taken; a heavy German woman filled +it so solidly that no phantasm could have squeezed in beside her. But +the presence of Dickerson became so veritable that Cornelia started up +breathless, and hurried home, sick with the fear that she should find +him waiting for her there. + +She was afraid to go out the next morning, lest she should meet him on +the street, though she knew that by this time he was a thousand miles +away. + +At the Synthesis she was ashamed to let Charmian think that her absent +and tremulous mood had something to do with Ludlow; but she was so much +more ashamed of the shabby truth that she would have been willing to +accept the romance herself. This was very dishonest; it was very wicked +and foolish; Cornelia saw herself becoming a guilty accomplice in an +innocent illusion. She found strength to silence Charmian's surmise, if +not to undeceive her; she did her best; and as the days began to remove +her farther and farther from the moment of her actual encounter with +Dickerson, her reason came more and more into control of her +conscience. She tried not to be the fool of a useless remorse for +something she was at least not mainly to blame for. She had to make the +struggle alone; there was no one she could advise with; her heart shut +when she thought of telling any one her trouble; but in her perpetual +reveries she argued the case before Ludlow. + +It seemed to her as if he had come to render her a final judgment when +his name was sent up to her room, that Saturday afternoon which ended +the longest week of her life. She went down, and found him alone in the +long parlor, and it was in keeping with her fantastic prepossession +that he should begin, "I wonder how I shall say what I've come for?" as +if he would fain have softened her sentence. + +He kept her hand a moment longer than he need; but he was not one of +those disgusting people who hold your hand while they talk to you, and +whom Cornelia hated. She did not now resent it, though she was sensible +of having to take her hand from him. + +"I don't know," she answered, with hysterical flippancy. "If I did I +would tell you." + +He laughed, as if he liked her flippancy, and he said, "It's very +simple. In fact, that's what makes it so difficult." + +"Then you might practice on something hard first," she suggested +wildly. "How would the weather do?" + +"Yes, hasn't it been beautiful?" said Ludlow, with an involuntary lapse +into earnestness. "I was in the Park to-day for a little effect I +wanted to get, and it was heartbreaking to leave the woods. I was away +up in those forest depths that look wild in spite of the asphalt. If +you haven't been there, you must go some day while the autumn color +lasts. I saw a lot of your Synthesis ladies painting there. I didn't +know but I might see you." + +This was all very matter of fact. Cornelia took herself in hand, and +shook herself out of her hallucination. "No, I don't suppose it would +be right for a person who was merely in the Preparatory to go sketching +in the Park. And Charmian and I were very good to-day, and kept working +away at our block hands as long as the light lasted." + +"Ah, yes; Miss Maybough," said Ludlow; then he paused absently a +moment. "Do you think she is going to do much in art?" + +"How should I know?" returned Cornelia. She thought it rather odd he +should recur to that after she had let him see she did not want to talk +about Charmian's art. + +"Because you know that you can do something yourself," said Ludlow. +"That is the only kind of people who can really know. The other sort of +people can make clever guesses; they can't know." + +"And you believe that I can do something?" asked Cornelia, and a sudden +revulsion of feeling sent the tears to her eyes. It was so sweet to be +praised, believed in, after what she had been through. "But you haven't +seen anything of mine except those things--in the Fair House." + +"Oh, yes, I have. I've seen the drawings you submitted at the +Synthesis. I've just seen them. I may as well confess it: I asked to +see them." + +"You did! And--and--well?" she fluttered back. + +"It will take hard work." + +"Oh, I know that!" + +"And it will take time." + +"Yes, that is the worst of it. I don't see how I can give the time." + +"Why?" he asked. + +"Oh, because--I can't very well be away from home." She colored as she +said this, for she could have been away from home well enough if she +had the money. "I thought I would come and try it for one winter." + +He said lightly, "Perhaps you'll get so much interested that you'll +find you can take more time." + +"I don't know," she answered. + +"Well, then, you must get in all the work you can this winter. Block +hands are well enough, but they're not the whole of art nor the whole +preparation for it." + +"Oh, I've joined the sketch class," she said. + +"Yes, that's well enough, too," he assented. "But I want you to come +and paint with me," he suddenly added. + +"You? Me?" she gasped. + +"Yes," he returned. "I'll tell you what I mean. I've been asked to +paint a lady. She'll have to come to my place, and I want you to come +with her, and see what you can do, too. I hope it doesn't seem too +extraordinary?" he broke off, at sight of the color in her face. + +"Oh, no," said Cornelia. She wondered what Charmian would say if she +knew this; she wondered what the Synthesis would say; the Synthesis +held Mr. Ludlow in only less honor than the regular Synthesis +instructors, and Mr. Ludlow had asked her to come and paint with him! +She took shelter in the belief that Mrs. Burton must have put him up to +it, somehow, but she ought to say something grateful, or at least +something. She found herself stupidly and aimlessly asking, "Is it Mrs. +Westley?" as if that had anything to do with the matter. + +"No; I don't see why I didn't tell you at once," said Ludlow. "It's +your friend, Miss Maybough." + +Cornelia relieved her nerves with a laugh. "I wonder how she ever kept +from telling it." + +"Perhaps she didn't know. I've only just got a letter from her mother, +asking me to paint her, and I haven't decided yet that I shall do it." + +She thought that he wanted her to ask him why, and she asked, "What are +you waiting for?" + +"For two reasons. Do you want the real reason first?" he asked, smiling +at her. + +She laughed. "No, the unreal one!" + +"Well, I doubt whether Mrs. Maybough wrote to me of her own +inspiration, entirely. I suspect that Wetmore and Plaisdell have been +working the affair, and I don't like that." + +"Well?" + +"And I'm waiting for you to say whether I could do it. That's the real +reason." + +"How should I know?" + +"I could make a picture of her," he said, "but could I make a portrait? +There is something in every one which holds the true likeness; if you +don't get at that, you don't make a portrait, and you don't give people +their money's worth. They haven't proposed to buy merely a picture of +you; they've proposed to buy a picture of a certain person; you may +give them more, but you can't honestly give them less; and if you don't +think you can give them that, then you had better not try. I should +like to try for Miss Maybough's likeness, and I'll do that, at least, +if you'll try with me. The question is whether you would like to." + +"Like to? It's the greatest opportunity! Why, I hope I know what a +chance it is, and I don't know why you ask me to." + +"I want to learn of you." + +"If you talk that way I shall know you are making fun of me." + +"Then I will talk some other way. I mean what I say. I want you to show +me how to look at Miss Maybough. It sounds fantastic----" + +"It sounds ridiculous. I shall not do anything of the kind." + +"Very well, then, I shall not paint her." + +"You don't expect me to believe that," said Cornelia, but she did +believe it a little, and she was daunted. She said, "Charmian would +hate it." + +"I don't believe she would," said Ludlow. "I don't think she would mind +being painted by half-a-dozen people at once. The more the better." + +"That shows you don't understand her," Cornelia began. + +"Didn't I tell you I didn't understand her? Now, you see, you must. I +should have overdone that trait in her. Of course there is something +better than that." + +"I don't see how you could propose my painting her, too," Cornelia +relented, provisionally. + +Ludlow was daunted in his turn; he had not thought of that. It would be +a little embarrassing, certainly, but he could not quite own this. He +laughed and said, "I have a notion she will propose it herself, if you +give her a chance." + +"Oh," said Cornelia, "if she does that, all well and good." + +"Then I may say to her mother that I will make a try at the portrait?" + +"What have I to do with it?" Cornelia demanded, liking and not liking +to have the decision seem left to her. "I shall have nothing to do with +it if she doesn't do it of her own accord." + +"You may be sure that she shall not have even a suggestion of any +kind," said Ludlow, solemnly. + +"I shall know it if she does," Cornelia retorted, not so solemnly, and +they both laughed. + +While he stayed and talked with her the affair had its reason and +justification; it seemed very simple and natural; but when he went away +it began to look difficult and absurd. It was something else she would +have to keep secret, like that folly of the past; it cast a malign +light upon Ludlow, and showed him less wise and less true than she had +thought him. She must take back her consent; she must send for him, +write to him, and do it; but she did not know how without seeming to +blame him, and she wished to blame only herself. She let the evening go +by, and she stood before the glass, putting up her hand to her back +hair to extract the first dismantling hairpin, for a sleepless night, +when a knock at her door was followed by the words, "He's waitun' in +the parlor." The door was opened and the Irish girl put a card in her +hand. + + + + +XXIV. + + +The card was Ludlow's, and the words, "Do see me, if you can, for a +moment," were scribbled on it. + +Cornelia ran down stairs. He was standing, hat in hand, under the leafy +gas chandelier in the parlor, and he said at once, "I've come back to +say it won't do. You can't come to paint Miss Maybough with me. It +would be a trick. I wonder I ever thought of such a thing." + +She broke out in a joyful laugh. "I knew you came for that." + +He continued to accuse himself, to explain himself. He ended, "You must +have been despising me!" + +"I despised myself. But I had made up my mind to tell Charmian all +about it. There's no need to do that, now it's all over." + +"But it isn't all over for me," said Ludlow gloomily. "I went straight +home from here, and wrote to Mrs. Maybough that I would paint her +daughter, and now I'm in for it." + +He looked so acutely miserable that Cornelia gave way to a laugh, which +had the effect of raising his fallen spirits, and making him laugh, +too. They sat down together and began to talk the affair all over +again. + +Some of the boarders who were at the theatre came in before he rose to +go. + +Cornelia followed him out into the hall. "Then there is nothing for me +to do about it?" + +"No, nothing," he said, "unless you want to take the commission off my +hands, and paint the picture alone." He tried to look gloomy again, but +he smiled. + +Every one slept late at Mrs. Montgomery's on Sunday morning; all sects +united in this observance of the day; in fact you could not get +breakfast till nine. Cornelia opened her door somewhat later even than +this, and started at the sight of Charmian Maybough standing there, +with her hand raised in act to knock. They exchanged little shrieks of +alarm. + +"Did I scare you? Well, it's worth it, and you'll say so when you know +what's happened. Go right back in!" Charmian pushed Cornelia back and +shut the door. "You needn't try to guess, and I won't ask you to. But +it's simply this: Mr. Ludlow is going to paint me. What do you think of +that? Though I sha'n't expect you to say at once. But it's so. Mamma +wrote to him several days ago, but she kept the whole affair from me +till she knew he would do it, and he only sent his answer last night +after dinner." Charmian sat down on the side of the bed with the effect +of intending to take all the time that was needed for the full +sensation. "And now, while you're absorbing the great central fact, I +will ask if you have any idea why I have rushed down here this morning +before you were up, or mamma either, to interview you?" + +"No, I haven't," said Cornelia. + +"You don't happen to have an olive or a cracker any where about? I +don't need them for illustration, but I haven't had any breakfast, +yet." + +"There are some ginger-snaps in the bureau box right before you," said +Cornelia from the window-sill. + +"Ginger-snaps will do, in an extreme case like this," said Charmian, +and she left her place long enough to search the bureau box. "What +little ones!" she sighed. "But no matter; I can eat them all." She +returned to her seat on Cornelia's bed with the paper bag which she had +found, in her hand. "Well, I have thought it perfectly out, and all you +have to do is to give your consent; and if you knew how much valuable +sleep I had lost, thinking it out, you would consent at once. You know +that the sittings will have to be at his studio, and that I shall have +to have somebody go with me." Cornelia was silent, and Charmian urged, +"You know that much, don't you?" + +"Yes, I suppose so," Cornelia allowed. + +"Well, then, you know I could have mamma go, but it would bore her; or +I could have a maid go, but that would bore me; and so I've decided to +have you go." + +"Me?" + +"Yes; and don't say you can't till you know what you're talking about. +It'll take all your afternoons for a week or a fortnight, and you'll +think you can't give the time. But I'll tell you how you can, and more +too; how you can give the whole winter, if it takes him that long to +paint me; but they say he paints very rapidly, and gets his picture at +a dash, or else doesn't get it at all; and it's neither more nor less +than this: I'm going to get him to let you paint me at the same time? +What do you think of that?" + +All our motives are mixed, and it was not pure conscience which now +wrought in Cornelia. It was pride, too, and a certain resentment that +Charmian should assume authority to make Mr. Ludlow do this or that. +For an instant she questioned whether he had not broken faith with her, +and got Charmian to propose this; then she knew that it could not have +been. She said coldly, "I can't do it." + +"_What!_ Not when I've come down here before breakfast to ask you? Why +can't you?" Charmian wailed. + +"Because Mr. Ludlow was here last night, and asked me to do it." + +"He _did_? Then I am the happiest girl in the world! Let me embrace +you, Cornelia!" + +"Don't be--disgusting!" said Cornelia, but she felt that Charmian was +generously glad of the honor done her, and that she had wronged her by +suspecting her of a wish to show power over Mr. Ludlow. "I told him I +couldn't, and I can't, because it would have seemed to be making use of +you, and--and--you wouldn't like it, and I wouldn't like it in your +place, and--I wouldn't do it. And I should have to tell you that he +proposed it, and that you would perfectly hate it." + +"When it was the very first thing I thought of? Let me embrace you +again, Cornelia Saunders, you adorable wooden image! Why his proposing +it makes it perfectly divine, and relieves me of all responsibility. +Oh, I would come down here every _day_ before breakfast a whole week, +for a moment like this! Then it's all settled; and we will send him +word that we will begin to-morrow afternoon. Let's discuss the +character you will do me in. I want you to paint me in character--both +of you--something allegorical or mythical. Or perhaps you're hungry, +too! And I've eaten every one of the snaps." + +"No, I can't do it," Cornelia still protested; but the reasons why she +could not, seemed to have escaped her, or to have turned into mere +excuses. In fact, since Charmian had proposed it, and seemed to wish +it, they were really no longer reasons. Cornelia alleged them again +with a sense of their fatuity. She did not finally assent; she did not +finally refuse; but she felt that she was very weak. + +"I see what you're thinking about," said Charmian, "but you needn't be +afraid. I shall not show anything out. I shall be a perfect--tomb." + +"What do you mean?" demanded Cornelia, with a vexation heightened by +the sense of her own insincerity. + +"Oh, _you_ know what. But from this time forth _I_ don't. It will be +glorious not to let myself realize it. I shall just sit and think up +conundrums, and not hear, or see, or dream anything. Yes, I can do it, +and it will be splendid practice. This is the way I shall look." She +took a pose in Cornelia's one chair, and put on an air of impenetrable +mystery, which she relinquished a moment to explain, "Of course this +back is rather too stiff and straight; I shall be more crouching." She +pushed a ginger-snap between her lips, and chewed enigmatically upon +it. "See?" she said. + +"Now, look here, Charmian Maybough," said Cornelia sternly, "if you +ever mention that again, or allude to it the least in the world----" + +"Don't I _say_ I won't?" demanded Charmian, jumping up. "That will be +the whole fun of it. From the very first moment, till I'm framed and +hung in a good light, I'm going to be _mum_, through and through, and +if _you_ don't speak of him, I sha'n't, except as a fellow-artist." + +"What a simpleton!" said Cornelia. She laughed in spite of her +vexation. "I'm not obliged to let what you think trouble me." + +"Of course not." + +"Your thinking it doesn't make it so." + +"No----" + +"But if you let _him_ see----" + +"The whole idea is _not_ to let him see! That's what I shall do it all +for. Good-by!" + +She put the paper bag down on the bureau for the greater convenience of +embracing Cornelia. + +"Why don't you stay and have breakfast with me?" Cornelia asked. +"You'll be sick." + +"Breakfast? And ruin everything! I would rather _never_ have any +breakfast!" She took up the paper bag again, and explored it with an +eager hand, while she stared absently at Cornelia. "Ah! I _thought_ +there was one left! What mites of things." She put the last ginger-snap +into her mouth, and with a flying kiss to Cornelia as she passed, she +flashed out of the door, and down the stairs. + + + + +XXV. + + +After all, Ludlow decided that he would paint Charmian in her own +studio, with the accessories of her peculiar pose in life about her; +they were factitious, but they were genuine expressions of her +character; he could not realize her so well away from there. + +The first afternoon was given to trying her in this light and that, and +studying her from different points. She wished to stand before her +easel, in her Synthesis working-dress, with her palette on her thumb, +and a brush in her other hand. He said finally, "Why not?" and Cornelia +made a tentative sketch of her. + +At the end of the afternoon he waited while the girl was putting on her +hat in Charmian's room, where she smiled into the glass at Charmian's +face over her shoulder, thinking of the intense fidelity her friend had +shown throughout to her promise of unconsciousness. + +"Didn't I do it magnificently?" Charmian demanded. "It almost killed +me; but I meant to do it if it did kill me; and now his offering to see +you aboard the car shows that _he_ is determined to do it, too, if it +kills _him_. I call it masterly." + +"Well, don't go and spoil it now," said Cornelia. "And if you're going +to ask me every day how you've done----" + +"Oh, I'm not! Only the first day and the last day!" + +"Well!" + +As Ludlow walked with Cornelia toward the point where she was to take +her car down town, he began, "You see, she is _so_ dramatic, that if +you tried to do her in any other way--that is, simply--you would be +doing her artificially. You have to take her as she is, don't you +think?" + +"I don't know as I think Charmian is acting all the time, if that's +what you mean," said Cornelia. "Or any of the time, even." + +Ludlow wished she had said she did not know _that_ instead of _as_, but +he reflected that ninety Americans out of a hundred, lettered or +unlettered, would have said the same. "Oh, I don't at all mean that she +is, intentionally. It's because it's her nature that I want to +recognize it. You think it _is_ her nature, don't you?" he asked +deferentially. + +"Oh, I suppose it is," she answered; it amused her to have him take +such a serious tone about Charmian. + +"I shall have to depend a great deal on your judgment in that matter," +he went on. "You won't mind it, I hope?" + +"Not if you won't mind it's not being worth anything." + +"It will be worth everything!" + +"Or if you won't care for my not giving it, sometimes." + +"I don't understand." + +"Well, I shouldn't want to seem to talk her over." + +"Oh, no! You _don't_ think I expected you to do that? It was merely the +right point of view I wanted to get." + +"I don't know as I object to that," said Cornelia. + +The car which she wished to take came by, and he stopped it and handed +her aboard. She thought he might decide to come with her, but he bowed +his good-night, and she saw him walking on down town as she passed him. + +At the end of a fortnight Ludlow had failed to get his picture of +Charmian; at the end of a month he began with a new pose and a fresh +theory. That quality of hers which he hoped to surprise with Cornelia's +help, and which was to give verity and value to his portrait, when once +he expressed it there, escaped him still. + +She was capable of perfect poses, but they were mere flashes of +attitude. Then the antique mystery lurking in her face went out of it, +and she became _fin de siecle_ and romantic, and young ladyish, and +uninteresting to Ludlow. + +She made tea every afternoon when they finished, and sometimes the talk +they began with before they began work prolonged itself till the time +for the tea had come. On the days when Mr. Plaisdell dropped in for a +cup, the talk took such a range that the early dark fell before it +ended, and then Cornelia had to stay for dinner and to be sent home in +Mrs. Maybough's coupe. + +She had never supposed there was anything like it in all the world. +Money, and, in a certain measure, the things that money could buy, were +imaginable in Pymantoning; but joys so fine, so simple as these, were +what she could not have forecast from any ground of experience or +knowledge. She tried to give her mother a notion of what they said and +did; but she told her frankly she never could understand. Mrs. +Saunders, in fact, could not see why it was so exciting; she read +Cornelia's letters to Mrs. Burton, who said she could see, and she told +Mrs. Saunders that, she would like it as much as Cornelia did, if she +were in her place; that she was a kind of Bohemian herself. + +She tried to explain what Bohemian meant, and what Bohemia was; but +this is what no one can quite do. Charmian herself, who aimed to be a +perfect Bohemian, was uncertain of the ways and means of operating the +Bohemian life, when she had apparently thrown off all the restrictions, +for the afternoon, at least, that prevented its realization. She had a +faultless setting for it. There never was a girl's studio that was more +like a man's studio, an actual studio. Mr. Ludlow himself praised it; +he said he felt at home in it, and he liked it because it was not +carried a bit too far. Charmian's mother had left her free to do what +she wished, and there was not a convention of Philistine housekeeping +in the arrangement of the place. Everything was in the admired disorder +of an artist's environment; but Mrs. Maybough insisted upon neatness. +Even here Charmian had to submit to a compromise. She might and did +keep things strewn all about in her studio, but every morning the +housemaid was sent in to sweep it and dust it. She was a housemaid of +great intelligence, and an imperfect sense of humor, and she obeyed +with unsmiling scrupulosity the instructions she had to leave +everything in Miss Charmian's studio exactly as she found it, but to +leave it clean. In consequence, this home of art had an effect of +indescribable coldness and bareness, and there were at first some +tempestuous scenes which Cornelia witnessed between Charmian and her +mother, when the girl vainly protested: + +"But don't you _see_, mamma, that if you have it regularly dusted, it +never can have any sentiment, any atmosphere?" + +"I don't see how you can call _dust_ atmosphere, my dear," said her +stepmother. "If I left your studio looking as you want it, and there +should be a fire, what would people think?" + +"Well, if there should happen to be anybody from Wilbraham, Mass.," +Charmian retorted, "they might criticise, but I don't think the New +York Fire Department would notice whether the place had been dusted or +not. But, go on, mamma! _Some_ day I shall have a studio out of the +house--Cornelia and I are going to have one--and then I guess you won't +have it dusted!" + +"I'm sure Miss Saunders wouldn't let it get dusty," said Mrs. Maybough, +and then, in self-defence, Charmian gave Cornelia the worst character +for housekeeping that she could invent from her knowledge of Cornelia's +room. + +She begged her pardon afterwards, but she said she had to do it, and +she took what comfort she could in slamming everything round, as she +called it, in her studio, when she went with Cornelia to have her +coffee there. The maid restored it to its conscious picturesqueness the +next day. + +Charmian was troubled to decide what was truly Bohemian to eat, when +they became hungry over their work. She provided candy and chocolate in +all their forms and phases, but all girls ate candy and chocolate, and +they were so missish, and so indistinctive, and they both went so badly +with tea, which she must have because of the weird effect of the +spirit-lamp under the kettle, that she disused them after the first +week. There remained always crackers, which went with anything, but the +question was what to have with them. Their natural association with +cheese was rejected because Charmian said she should be ashamed to +offer Mr. Ludlow those insipid little Neufchatel things, which were +made in New Jersey, anyway, and the Gruyere smelt so, and so did +Camembert; and pine-apple cheese was Philistine. There was nothing for +it but olives, and though olives had no savor of originality, the +little crescent ones were picturesque, and if you picked them out of +the bottle with the end of a brush-handle, sharpened to a point, and +the other person received them with their thumb and finger, the whole +act was indisputably Bohemian. + +There was one day when they all got on particularly well, and Charmian +boldly ordered some champagne for a burst. The man brought back +Apollinaris water, and she was afraid to ask why, for fear he should +say Mrs. Maybough sent it. Ludlow said he never took champagne, and was +awfully glad of the Apollinaris, and so the change was a great success, +for neither Charmian nor Cornelia counted, in any case; they both hated +every kind of wine. + +Another time, Cornelia, when she came, found Charmian lighting one of +the cigars kept for show on her mantel. She laughed wildly at +Cornelia's dismay, and the smoke, which had been going up her nose, +went down her throat in a volume, and Cornelia had to run and catch +her; she was reaching out in every direction for help. + +Cornelia led her to the couch, which was still waiting its rugs to +become a bed, and she lay down there, very pale and still, and was +silent a long time, till Cornelia said, "Now, if I could find a moose +somewhere to run over you," and they both burst into a shriek of +laughter. + +"But I'm going to _learn_" Charmian declared. "Where did that cigar +go?" She sprang up to look for it, but they never could find it, and +they decided it must have gone into the fire, and been burnt up; that +particular cigar seemed essential to the experiment, or at least +Charmian did not try another. + +They were both very grave after Ludlow came. When he went away, he +said, with an absent look at Charmian, "You have a magnificent pallor +to-day, Miss Maybough, and I must compliment you on keeping much +quieter than usual." + +"Oh, thank you," said Charmian, gravely, and as soon as the door closed +upon him she flung herself into Cornelia's arms, and they stifled their +laughter in each other's necks. It seemed to them that nothing so +wildly funny had ever happened before; they remained a long while +quaking over the question whether there was smell of smoke enough in +the room to have made him suspect anything, and whether his +congratulations were not ironical. Charmian said that her mistake was +in not beginning with a cigarette instead of a cigar; she said she was +ready to begin with a cigarette then, and she dared Cornelia to try +one, too. Cornelia refused the challenge, and then she said, well, she +would do it herself, some day. + +There was a moment when it seemed to her that the Bohemian ideal could +be realized to a wild excess in pop-corn. She bought a popper and three +ears of corn, and brought them home tied up in paper, and fastened to +some canvases she got for Cornelia. She insisted that it was part of +the bargain that she should supply Cornelia's canvases. But the process +of popping made them all very red in the face; they had to take it by +turns, for she would not let Ludlow hold the popper the whole time. +They had a snowy heap of corn at last, which she put on the hearth +before them in the hollow of a Japanese shield, detached from a suit of +armor, for that use. They sat on the hearth to eat it, and they told +ghost-stories and talked of the most psychological things they could +think of. In all this Charmian put Cornelia forward as much as she +dared, and kept herself in a sort of impassioned abeyance. If Cornelia +had been the most jealous and exacting of principals she could not have +received from her second a more single and devoted allegiance. +Charmian's joy in her fortunately mounted in proportion to the devotion +she paid her, rather than Cornelia's gratitude for it. She did not like +to talk of herself, and these seances were nothing if not strictly +personal; but Charmian talked for her, and represented her in phases of +interest which Cornelia repudiated with a laugh, or denied outright, +without scruple, when the invention was too bold. Charmian contrived +that she should acquire the greater merit, from her refusals of it, and +went on to fresh self-sacrifices in her behalf. + +Sometimes she started the things they talked of; not because she ever +seemed to have been thinking of them, or of anything, definitely, but +because she was always apparently letting her mind wander about in +space, and chanced upon them there. Mostly, however, the suggestions +came from Ludlow. He talked of art, its methods, its principles, its +duties to the age, the people, the civilization; the large moral uses, +which kindled Charmian's fancy, and made Cornelia laugh when Charmian +proposed a scheme for the relief and refinement of the poor on the East +Side, by frescoing the outsides of the tenement houses in Mott Street +and Mulberry Bend, with subjects recalling the home life of the +dwellers there: rice-fields and tea-plantations for the Chinese, and +views of Etna and Vesuvius and their native shores for the Sicilians +and Neapolitans, with perhaps religious histories. + +Ludlow had to explain that he had not meant the employment of any such +direct and obvious means, but the gradual growth of a conscience in +art. Cornelia thought him vague, but it seemed clear to Charmian. She +said, "Oh, yes; _that_," and she made tea, and had him set fire to some +pieces of Southern lightwood on her hearth, for the sake of the murky +fumes and the wreaths of dusky crimson flame, which she said it was so +weird to sit by. + +In all matters of artistic theory and practice she set Cornelia the +example of grovelling at the master's feet, as if there could be no +question of anything else; but in other things Cornelia sometimes +asserted herself against this slavish submission with a kind of +violence little short of impertinence. After these moral paroxysms, in +which she disputed the most obviously right and reasonable things, she +was always humiliated and cast down before his sincerity in trying to +find a meaning in her difference from him, as if he could not imagine +the nervous impulse that carried her beyond the bounds of truth, and +must accuse himself of error. When this happened she would not let +Charmian take her to task for her behavior; she would not own that she +was wrong; she put the blame on him, and found him arrogant and +patronizing. She had always known he was that kind of person, and she +did not mean to be treated like a child in everything, even if he was a +genius. + +By this time they were far away from that point in Charmian's romance +where the faithful friend of the heroine remains forever constant to +her vow not to speak to the heroine of the hero's passion for her, and +in fact rather finds it a duty to break her vow, and enjoys being +snubbed for it. As the transaction of the whole affair took place in +Charmian's fancy, Cornelia had been obliged to indulge her in it, with +the understanding that she should not let it interfere with their work, +or try to involve her visibly or palpably in it. + +With all their idling they had days when they worked intensely, and +Ludlow was as severe with Cornelia's work as he was with his own. He +made her rub out and paint out, and he drew ruthless modifications of +her work all over it, like the crudest of the Synthesis masters. He +made her paint out every day the work of the day before, as they did in +the Synthesis; though sometimes he paused over it in a sort of puzzle. +Once he said, holding her sketch into the light he wanted, at the close +of the afternoon, "If I didn't know you had done that to-day, I should +say it was the one you had done yesterday." + +Toward the end of the month he recurred to this notion again. +"Suppose," he said, "we keep this, and you do another to-morrow." + +The next day he said, in the same perplexity, "Well, keep this, and do +another." + +After a week he took all her canvases, and set them one back of +another, but so that he could see each in nearly the same light. He +stood looking at them silently, with the two girls behind him, one at +either shoulder. + +"It's as lovely as standing between two mirrors," Charmian suggested +dreamily. + +"Pretty much of a sameness," Cornelia remarked. + +"Mm," Ludlow made in his throat. He glanced over the shoulder next her, +and asked, as if Charmian were not there, "What makes you do her always +alike?" + +"Because she _is_ always alike." + +"Then I've seen her wrong," said Ludlow, and he stared at Charmian as +if she were a lay-figure. She bore his scrutiny as impassively as a +lay-figure could. + +He turned again to Cornelia's sketches, and said gloomily, "I should +like to have Wetmore see these." + +"Oh!" said Cornelia. + +Charmian came to life with another "Oh!" and then she demanded. "When? +We must have something besides tea for Mr. Wetmore." + +"I think I'll ask him to step round in the morning," said Ludlow, with +authority. + +Charmian said "Oh!" again, but submitted with the eagerness of a +disciple; all phases of the art-life were equally precious, and even a +snub from such a master must be willingly accepted. + +He went away and would not have any tea; he had an air of +trouble--almost of offence. "Isn't he grand, gloomy and peculiar?" +Charmian said. "I wonder what's the matter?" + +She turned to Ludlow's picture which he had left standing on the chair +where he painted at it in disdain of an easel, and silently compared it +with Cornelia's sketches. Then she looked at Cornelia and gave a +dramatic start. + +"What is the matter?" asked Cornelia. She came up and began to look at +the picture, too. + +Charmian demanded, "Don't you see?" + +"No, I don't see anything," said Cornelia, but as she looked something +became apparent which she could not deny. She blushed violently and +turned upon Charmian. "You ought to be ashamed," she began, and she +tried to take hold of her; she did not know why. + +Charmian escaped, and fled to the other end of the room with a wild +laugh, and stood there. Cornelia dropped into the chair before the +picture, with her head fallen on her elbow. She seemed to be laughing, +too, and Charmian went on: + +"What is there to be ashamed of? I think it's glorious. It's one of the +most romantic things I ever heard of. He simply couldn't help it, and +it proves everything I've said. Of course that was the reason he +couldn't see _me_ all along. Why, if such a thing had happened to me, I +should go round shouting it from the house-tops. I don't suppose he +knew what he was doing, or else he didn't care; perfectly desperate. +What _fun_!" + +Cornelia kept laughing, but Charmian stopped and waited a moment and +listened. "Why, Cornelia!" she said remorsefully, entreatingly, but she +remained the length of the room away. Then she approached tentatively, +and when Cornelia suddenly ceased to laugh she put her hand on her +head, and tenderly lifted her face. It was dabbled with tears. +"Cornelia!" she said again. + +Cornelia sprang to her feet with a fierceness that sent her flying some +yards away. "Charmian Maybough! Will you ever speak of this to any +living soul?" + +"No, no! Indeed I won't----" Charmian began. + +"Will you ever _think_ of it!" + +"No----" + +"Because I don't choose to have you think I am such a fool as +to--to----" + +"No, indeed, I don't." + +"Because there isn't anything of it, and it wouldn't mean anything, if +there were." + +"No," said Charmian. "The only thing is to tear him out of your heart; +and I will help you!" She made as if she were ready to begin then, and +Cornelia broke into a genuine laugh. + +"Don't be ridiculous. I guess there isn't much to tear." + +"Then what are you going to do?" + +"Nothing! What can I! There isn't anything to do anything about. If +it's there, he knows it, and he's left it there because he didn't care +what we thought. He was just trying something. He's always treated me +like a perfect--child. That's all there is of it, and you know it." + +"Yes," Charmian meekly assented. Then she plucked up a spirit in +Cornelia's behalf. "The only thing is to keep going on the same as +ever, and show him we haven't seen anything, and don't care if we +have." + +"No," said Cornelia sadly, "I shall not come any more. Or, if I do, it +will just be to---- I'm not certain yet what I shall do." She +provisionally dried her eyes and repaired her looks at the little +mirror which hung at one side of the mantel, and then came back to +Charmian who stood looking at Cornelia's sketches, still in the order +Ludlow had left them in. She stole her arm round Cornelia's waist. +"Well, anyway, he can't say _you've_ returned the compliment. They're +perfectly magnificent, every one; and they're all _me_. Now we can +_both_ live for art." + + + + +XXVI. + + +Wetmore came the next morning with Ludlow, and looked at Cornelia's +studies. "Well, there's no doubt about her talent. I wonder why it was +wasted on one of her sex! These gifted girls, poor things, there don't +seem to be any real call for them." He turned from the sketches a +moment to the arrangement of Charmian's studio. "I suppose this is the +other girl's expression." He looked more closely at the keeping of the +room, and said, with a smile of mixed compassion and amusement, "Why, +this girl seems to be trying to do the Bohemian act!" + +"That is her pose," Ludlow admitted. + +"And does she get a great deal of satisfaction out of it?" + +"The usual amount I fancy." Ludlow began to tell of some of Charmian's +attempts to realize her ideal. + +Wetmore listened with a pitying smile. "Poor thing! It isn't much like +the genuine thing, as we used to see it in Paris, is it? We Americans +are too innocent in our traditions and experiences; our Bohemia is a +non-alcoholic, unfermented condition. When it is diluted down to the +apprehension of an American girl it's no better, or no worse, than a +kind of Arcadia. Miss Maybough ought to go round with a shepherdess's +crook and a straw hat with daisies in it. That's what _she_ wants to +do, if she knew it. Is that a practicable pipe? I suppose those +cigarettes are chocolates in disguise. Well!" He reverted to Cornelia's +canvases. "Why, of course they're good. She's doomed. She will have to +exhibit. You couldn't do less, Ludlow, than have her carry this one a +little farther"--he picked out one of the canvases and set it +apart--"and offer it to the Academy." + +"Do you really think so?" asked Ludlow, looking at it gravely. + +"I don't know. With the friends you've got on the Committee---- But you +don't suppose I came up here to see these things alone, did you? +Where's _your_ picture?" + +"I haven't any," said Ludlow. + +"Ob, rubbish! Where's your theory of a picture, then? I don't care what +you call it. My only anxiety, when you got a plain, simple, every-day +conundrum like Miss Maybough to paint, was that you would try to paint +the answer instead of the conundrum, and I dare say that's the trouble. +You've been trying to give something more of her character than you +found in her face; is that it? Well, you deserved to fail, then. You've +been trying to _interpret_ her; to come the prophet! I don't condemn +the poetry in your nature, Ludlow," Wetmore went on, "and if I could +manage it for you, I think I could keep it from doing mischief. That is +why I am so plain-spoken with you." + +"Do you call it plain-speaking?" Ludlow said, putting his picture where +it could be seen best. "I was going to accuse you of flattery." + +"Well, you had better ponder the weighty truths I have let fall. I +don't go round dropping them on everybody's toes." + +"Probably there are not enough of them," Ludlow suggested. + +"Oh, yes, there are." Wetmore waited till Ludlow should say he was +ready to have him look at his picture. "The fact is, I've been giving a +good deal of attention to your case, lately. You're not simple enough, +and you've had the wrong training. You would naturally like to paint +the literature of a thing, and let it go at that. But you've studied in +France, where they know better, and you can't bring yourself to do it. +Your nature and your school are at odds. You ought to have studied in +England. They don't know how to paint there, but they've brought +fiction in color to the highest point, and they're not ashamed of it." + +"Perhaps you've boon theorizing, too," said Ludlow, stepping aside from +his picture. + +"Not on canvas," Wetmore returned. He put himself in the place Ludlow +had just left. "Hello!" he began, but after a glance at Ludlow he went +on, with the effect of having checked himself, to speak carefully and +guardedly of the work in detail. His specific criticism was as gentle +and diffident as his general censure of Ludlow was blunt and outright. +It was given mostly in questions, and in recognitions of intention. + +"Well, the sum of it is," said Ludlow at last, "you see it's a +failure." + +Wetmore shrugged, as if this were something Ludlow ought not to have +asked. He went back to Cornelia's sketches, and looked at them one +after another. "That girl knows what she's about, or what she wants to +do, and she goes for it every time. She _has_ got talent. Whether she's +got enough to stand the training! That's the great difference, after +all. Lots of people have talent; that's the gift. The question is +whether one has it in paying quantity, or enough of it to amount to +anything after the digging and refining. I should say that girl had, +but very likely I might be mistaken." + +Ludlow joined in the examination of the sketches. He put his hand on +the weak points as well as on the strong ones; he enjoyed with Wetmore +the places where her artlessness had frankly offered itself instead of +her art. There was something ingenuous and honest in it all that made +it all charming. + +"Yes, I think she can do it," said Wetmore, "if she wants to bad +enough, or if she doesn't want to get married worse." + +Ludlow winced. "Isn't there something a little vulgar in that notion of +ours that a woman always wishes first and most of all to get married?" + +"My dear boy," said Wetmore, with an affectionate hand on Ludlow's +shoulder, "I never denied being vulgar." + +"Oh, I dare say. But I was thinking of myself." + +Ludlow sent word to Charmian at the Synthesis that he should not ask +her to sit to him that afternoon, and in the evening he went to see +Wetmore. It was eleven o'clock, and he would have been welcome at +Wetmore's any time between that hour of the night and two of the +morning. He found a number of people. Mrs. Westley was there with Mrs. +Rangeley; they had been at a concert together. Mrs. Wetmore had just +made a Welsh rabbit, and they were all talking of the real meaning of +the word "beautiful." + +"_I_ think," Mrs. Rangeley was saying, "that the beautiful is whatever +pleases or fascinates. There are lots of good-looking people who are +not beautiful at all, because they have no atmosphere: and you see +other people, who are irregular, and quite plain even, and yet you come +away feeling that they are perfectly beautiful." Mrs. Rangeley's own +beauty was a little irregular. She looked anxiously round, and caught +Wetmore in a smile. "What are you laughing at?" she demanded in rueful +deprecation. + +"Oh, nothing, nothing!" he said. "I was thinking how convincing you +were!" + +"Nothing of the kind!" said one of the men, who had been listening +patiently till she fully committed herself. "There couldn't be a more +fallacious notion of the meaning of beauty. The thing exists in itself, +independently of our pleasure or displeasure; they have almost nothing +to do with it. If you mix it with them you are lost, as far as a true +conception of it goes. Beauty is something as absolute as truth, and +whatever varies from it, as it was ascertained, we'll say, by the Greek +sculptors and the Italian painters, is unbeautiful, just as anything +that varies from the truth is untrue. Charm, fascination, atmosphere, +are purely subjective; one feels them and another doesn't. But beauty +is objective, and nobody can deny it who sees it, whether he likes it +or not. You can't get away from it, any more than you can get away from +the truth. There it is!" + +"Where?" asked Wetmore. He looked at the ladies as if he thought one of +them had been indicated. + +"How delightful to have one's ideas jumped on just as if they were a +man's!" sighed Mrs. Rangeley. Her opponent laughed a generous delight, +as if he liked nothing better than having his reasoning brought to +naught. He entered joyously into the tumult which the utterance of the +different opinions, prejudices and prepossessions of the company +became. + +Ludlow escaped from it, and made his way to Mrs. Westley, in that +remoter and quieter corner, which she seemed to find everywhere when +you saw her out of her own house; there she was necessarily prominent. + +"I think Mr. Agnew is right, and Mrs. Rangeley is altogether wrong," +she said. "There couldn't be a better illustration of it than in those +two young art-student friends of yours. Miss Saunders is beautiful in +just that absolute way Mr. Agnew speaks of; you simply can't refuse to +see it; and Miss Maybough is fascinating, if you feel her so. I should +think you'd find her very difficult to paint, and with Miss Saunders +there, all the time, I should be afraid of getting her decided +qualities into my picture." + +Ludlow said, "Ah, that's very interesting." + +He meant to outstay the rest, for he wished to speak with Wetmore +alone, and it seemed as though those people would never go. They went +at last. Mrs. Wetmore herself went off to the domestic quarter of the +apartment, and left the two men together. + +"'Baccy?" asked Wetmore, with a hospitable gesture toward the pipes on +his mantel. + +"No, thank you," said Ludlow. + +"Well?" + +"Wetmore, what was it you saw in my picture today, when you began with +that 'Hello' of yours, and then broke off to say something else?" + +"Did I do that? Well, if you really wish to know----" + +"I do!" + +"I'll tell you. I was going to ask you which of those two girls you had +painted it from. The topography was the topography of Miss Maybough, +but the landscape was the landscape of Miss Saunders." He waited, as if +for Ludlow to speak; then he went on: "I supposed you had been working +from some new theory of yours, and I thought I had said about as much +on your theories as you would stand for the time." + +"Was that all?" Ludlow asked. + +"All? It seems to me that's a good deal to be compressed into one small +'hello.'" + +Wetmore lighted a pipe, and began to smoke in great comfort. "We were +talking, just before you dropped in, of what you may call the psychical +chemistry of our kind of shop: the way a fellow transmutes himself into +everything he does. I can trace the man himself in every figure he +draws or models. You can't get away from yourself, simply because you +are always thinking yourself, or through yourself; you can't see or +know any one else in any other way." + +"It's a very curious thing," said Ludlow, uneasily. "I've noticed that, +too; I suppose every one has. But--good-night." + +Wetmore followed him out of the studio to the head of the public stairs +with a lamp, and Ludlow stopped there again. "Should you think there +was anything any one but you would notice?" + +"You mean the two girls themselves? Well, I should say, on general +principles, that what two such girls didn't see in your work----" + +"Of course! Then--what would you do? Would you speak to her about it?" + +"Which?" + +"You know: Miss Saunders." + +"Ah! It seems rather difficult, doesn't it?" + +"Confoundedly." + +"Why, if you mean to say it was unconscious, perhaps I was mistaken. +The thing may have been altogether in my own mind. I'd like to take +another look at it----" + +"You can't. I've painted it out." Ludlow ran down one flight of the +stairs, and then came stumbling quickly back. "I say, Wetmore. Do you +tell your wife everything?" + +"My dear boy, I don't tell her anything. She finds it out. But, then, +_she_ never tells anybody." + + + + +XXVII. + + +Ludlow sent word again to Charmian that he should not be able to keep +his appointment for the afternoon, and as soon as he could hope to find +Cornelia at home from the Synthesis, he went to see her. + +He began abruptly, "I came to tell you, Miss Saunders, when I first +thought of painting Miss Maybough, and now I've come to tell you that +I've given it up." + +"Given it up?" she repeated. + +"You've seen the failures I've made. I took my last one home yesterday, +and painted it out." He looked at Cornelia, but if he expected her to +give him any sort of leading, he was disappointed. He had to conclude +unaided, "I'm not going to try any more." + +She did not answer, and he went on, after a moment: "Of course, it's +humiliating to make a failure, but it's better to own it, and leave it +behind you; if you don't own it, you have to carry it with you, and it +remains a burden." + +She kept her eyes away from him, but she said, "Oh, yes; certainly." + +"The worst of it was the disappointment I had to inflict upon Mrs. +Maybough," he went on uneasily. "She was really hurt, and I don't +believe I convinced her after all that I simply and honestly couldn't +get the picture. I went to tell her this afternoon, and she seemed to +feel some sort of disparagement--I can't express it--in my giving it +up." + +He stopped, and Cornelia asked, as if forced to say something, "Does +Charmian know?" + +"I suppose she does, by this time," said Ludlow. He roused himself from +a moment of revery, and added, "But I didn't intend to oppress you with +this. I want to tell you something--else." + +He drew a deep breath. She started forward where she sat, and looked +past him at the door, as if to see whether the way of escape was clear. +He went on: "I took Wetmore there with me yesterday, and I showed him +your sketches, and he thinks you might get one of them into the Academy +exhibition in the spring, after you've carried it a little farther." + +She sank back in her chair. "Does he?" she asked listlessly, and she +thought, as of another person, how her heart would once have thrilled +at the hope of this. + +"Yes. But I don't feel sure that it would be well," said Ludlow. "I +wanted to say, though, that I shall be glad to come and be of any +little use I can if you're going on with it." + +"Oh, thank you," said Cornelia. She thought she was going to say +something more, but she stopped stiffly at that, and they both stood in +an embarrassment which neither could hide from the other. He repeated +his offer, in other terms, and she was able finally to thank him a +little more fitly, and to say that she should not forget his kind +offer; she should not forget all he had done for her, all the trouble +he had taken, and they parted with a vague alienation. + +As we grow older, we are impatient of misunderstandings, of +disagreements; we make haste to have them explained; but while we are +young, life seems so spacious and so full of chances that we fetch a +large compass round about such things, and wait for favoring +fortuities, and hope for occasions precisely fit; we linger in +dangerous delays, and take risks that may be ruinous. + +Cornelia went hack to her work at the Synthesis as before, but she +worked listlessly and aimlessly; the zest was gone, and the meaning. +She knew that for the past month she had drudged through the morning at +the Synthesis that she might free herself to the glad endeavor of the +afternoon at Charmian's studio with a good conscience. Ludlow's +criticism, even when it was harshest, was incentive and inspiration; +and her life was blank and dull on the old terms. + +The arts have a logic of their own, which seems no logic at all to the +interests. Ludlow's world found it altogether fit and intelligible that +he should give up trying to paint Charmian if he had failed to get his +picture of her, and thought he could not get it. Mrs. Maybough's world +regarded it as a breach of contract for him not to do what he had +undertaken. She had more trouble to reconcile her friends to his +behavior than she had in justifying it to herself. Through Charmian she +had at least a second-hand appreciation of motives and principles that +were instantly satisfactory to the girl and to all her comrades at the +Synthesis; they accepted it as another proof of Ludlow's greatness that +he should frankly own he had missed his picture of her, and they +exalted Charmian as a partner in his merit, for being so impossible. +The arguments of Wetmore went for something with Mrs. Maybough, though +they were mainly admissions to the effect that Ludlow was more of a +crank than he had supposed, and would have to be humored in a case of +the kind; but it was chiefly the courage and friendship of Mrs. Westley +that availed. She enforced what she had to say in his behalf with the +invitation to her January Thursdays which she had brought. She had +brought it in person because she wished to beg Mrs. Maybough to let her +daughter come with her friend, Miss Saunders, and pour tea at the first +of the Thursdays. + +"I got you off," she said to Ludlow, when they met, "but it was not +easy. She still thinks you ought to have let her see your last attempt, +and left her to decide whether it was good or not." + +Mrs. Westley showed her amusement at this, but Ludlow answered gravely +that there was a certain reason in the position. "If she's disappointed +in not having any portrait, though," he added, "she had better take +Miss Saunders's." + +"Do you really mean that?" Mrs. Westley asked, with more or less of +that incredulity concerning the performance of a woman which all the +sex feel, in spite of their boasting about one another. "Has she so +much talent?" + +"Why not? Somebody has to have the talent." + +This was like Wetmore's tone, and it made Mrs. Westley think of him. +"And do you believe she could get her picture into the exhibition?" + +"Has Wetmore been talking to you about it?" + +"Yes." + +"I don't know," said Ludlow. "That was Wetmore's notion." + +"And does she know about it?" + +"I mentioned it to her." + +"It would be a great thing for her if she could get her picture in--and +sell it." + +"Yes," Ludlow dryly admitted. He wished he had never told Mrs. Westley +how Cornelia had earned the money for her studies at the Synthesis; he +resented the implication of her need, and Mrs. Westley vaguely felt +that she had somehow gone wrong. She made haste to retrieve her error +by suggesting, "Perhaps Miss Maybough would object, though." + +"That's hardly thinkable." said Ludlow lightly. He would have gone away +without making Mrs. Westley due return for the trouble she had taken +for him with Mrs. Maybough, and she was so far vexed that she would +have let him go without telling him that she was going to have his +_protegee_ pour tea for her; she had fancied that this would have +pleased him. + +But by one of those sudden flashes that seem to come from somewhere +without, he saw himself in the odious light in which she must see him, +and he turned in time. "Mrs. Westley, I think you have taken a great +deal more pains for me than I'm worth. It's difficult to care what such +a poor little Philistine as Mrs. Maybough--the mere figment of somebody +else's misgotten money--thinks of me. But she _is_ to be regarded, and +I know that you have looked after her in my interest; and it's very +kind of you, and very good--it's like you. If you've done it, though, +with the notion of my keeping on in portraits, or getting more +portraits to paint, I'm sorry, for I shall not try to do any. I'm not +fit for that kind of work. I don't say it because I despise the work, +but because I despise myself. I should always let some wretched +preoccupation of my own--some fancy, some whim--come between me and +what I see my sitter to be, and paint that." + +"That is, you have some imagination," she began, in defence of him +against himself. + +"No, no! There's scope for the greatest imagination, the most intense +feeling, in portraits. But I can't do that kind of thing, and I must +stick to my little sophistical fantasies, or my bald reports of nature. +But Miss Saunders, if she were not a woman--excuse me!----" + +"Oh, I understand!" + +"She could do it, and she will, if she keeps on. She could have a +career; she could be a painter of women's portraits. A man's idea of a +woman, it's interesting, of course, but it's never quite just; it's +never quite true; it can't be. Every woman knows that, but you go on +accepting men's notions of women, in literature and in art, as if they +were essentially, or anything but superficially, like women. I couldn't +get a picture of Miss Maybough because I was always making more or less +than there really was of her. You were speaking the other night at +Wetmore's, of the uncertain quality of her beauty, and the danger of +getting something else in," said Ludlow, suddenly grappling with the +fact, "and I was always doing that, or else leaving everything out. Her +beauty has no fixed impression. It ranges from something exquisite to +something grotesque; just as she ranges in character from the noblest +generosity to the most inconceivable absurdity. You never can know how +she will look or how she will behave. At least, _I_ couldn't. I was +always guessing at her; but Miss Saunders seemed to understand her. All +her studies of her are alike; the last might be taken for the first, +except that the handling is better. It's invariably the very person, +without being in the least photographic, as people call it, because it +is one woman's unclouded perception of another. The only question is +whether Miss Saunders can keep that saving simplicity. It may be +trained out of her, or she may be taught to put other things before it. +Wetmore felt the danger of that, when we looked at her sketches. I'm +not saying they're not full of faults; the technique is bad enough; +sometimes it's almost childish; but the root of the matter is there. +She knows what she sees, and she tells." + +"Really?" said Mrs. Westley. "It _is_ hard for a woman to believe much +in women; we don't expect anything of each other yet. Should you like +her to paint me?" + +"I?" + +"I mean, do you think she could do it?" + +"Not yet. She doesn't know enough of life, even if she knew enough of +art. She merely painted another girl." + +"That is true," said Mrs. Westley with a sigh. She added impersonally; +"But if people only kept to what they knew, and didn't do what they +divined, there would be very little art or literature left, it seems to +me." + +"Well, perhaps the less the better." said Ludlow, with a smile for the +absurdity he was reduced to. "What was left would certainty be the +best." + +He felt as if his praise of Cornelia were somehow retrieval; as if it +would avail where he seemed otherwise so helpless, and would bring them +together on the old terms again. There was, indeed, nothing explicit in +their alienation, and when he saw Cornelia at Mrs. Westley's first +Thursday, he made his way to her at once, and asked her if she would +give him some tea, with the effect of having had a cup from her the day +before. He did not know whether to be pleased or not that she treated +their meeting as something uneventful, too, and made a little joke +about remembering that he liked his tea without sugar. + +"I wasn't aware that you knew that," he said. + +"Oh, yes; that is the way Charmian always made it for you; and +sometimes I made it." + +"To be sure. It seems a great while ago. How are you getting on with +your picture?" + +"I'm not getting on," said Cornelia, and she turned aside to make a cup +of tea for an old gentleman, who confessed that he liked a spoonful of +rum in his. General Westley had brought him up and presented him, and +he remained chatting with Cornelia, apparently in the fatuity that if +he talked trivially to her he would be the same as a young man. Ludlow +stayed, too, and when the old gentleman got away, he said, the same as +if there had been no interruption, "Why aren't you getting on?" + +"Because I'm not doing anything to it." + +"You ought to. I told you what Wetmore said of it." + +"Yes; but I don't know how," said Cornelia, with a laugh that he liked; +it seemed an effect of pleasure in his presence at her elbow; though +from time to time she ignored him, and talked with other people who +came for tea. He noticed that she had begun to have a little society +manner of her own; he did not know whether he liked it or not. She wore +a very pretty dress, too; one he had not seen before. + +"Will you let me show you how--as well as I can?" + +"After I've asked you? Thank you!" + +"I offered, once, before you asked." + +"Oh!" said Cornelia, with her face aslant from him over her tea-cups. +"I thought you had forgotten that." + +He winced, but he knew that he deserved the little scratch. He did not +try to exculpate himself, but he asked, "May I talk with Miss Maybough +about it?" + +Cornelia returned gayly, "It's a free country." + +He rose from the chair which he had been keeping at her elbow, and +looked about over the room. It was very full, and the first of Mrs. +Westley's Thursdays was successful beyond question. With the roving +eye, which he would not suffer to be intercepted, he saw the +distinguished people whom she had hitherto affected in their usual +number, and in rather unusual number the society people who had +probably come to satisfy an amiable curiosity; he made his reflection +that Mrs. Westley's evolution was proceeding in the inevitable +direction, and that in another winter the swells would come so +increasingly that there would be no celebrities for them to see. His +glance rested upon Mrs. Maybough, who stood in a little desolation of +her own, trying to look as if she were not there, and he had the +inspiration to go and speak to her instead of her daughter; there were +people enough speaking to Charmian, or seeming to speak to her, which +serves much the same purpose on such occasions. She was looking her +most mysterious, and he praised her peculiar charm to Mrs. Maybough. + +"It's no wonder I failed with that portrait." + +Mrs. Maybough said, "You must try again, Mr. Ludlow." + +"No, I won't abuse your patience again, but I will tell you: I should +like to come and look now and then at the picture Miss Saunders has +begun of her, and that I want her to keep on with." + +"Why not?" asked Mrs. Maybough in the softest assent. She would not +listen to the injuries which Ludlow heaped upon himself in proof of his +unworthiness to cross her threshold. + +He went back to Cornelia, and said, "Well, it's arranged. I've spoken +with Mrs. Maybough, and we can begin again whenever you like." + +"With Mrs. Maybough? You said you were going to speak to Charmian!" + +"It doesn't matter, does it?" + +"Yes. I--I don't know yet as I want to go on with the picture. I hadn't +thought----" + +"Oh!" said Ludlow, with marked politeness. "Then I misunderstood. But +don't let it annoy you. It doesn't matter, of course. There's no sort +of appointment." + +He found Mrs. Westley in a moment of disoccupation before he went, and +used a friend's right to recognize the brilliancy of her Thursday. She +refused all merit for it and asked him if he had ever seen any thing +like the contrast of Charmian at the chocolate with Cornelia at the +tea. "Did you notice the gown Miss Saunders had on? It's one that her +mother has just sent her from home. She says her mother made it, and +she came to ask me, the other day, if it would do to pour tea in. +Wasn't it delightful? I'm going to have her spend a week with me in +Lent. The general has taken a great fancy to her. I think I begin to +appreciate her fascination; it's her courage and her candor together. +Most girls are so uncertain and capricious. It's delightful to meet +such a straightforward and downright creature." + +"Oh, yes," said Ludlow. + + + + +XXVIII. + + +Cornelia knew that Ludlow was offended. She had not meant to hurt or +offend him; though she thought he had behaved very queerly ever since +he gave up painting Charmian. She had really not had time to think of +his offer before he went off to speak with Charmian, as she supposed. +The moment he was gone she saw that it would not do; that she could not +have him coming to look at her work; she did not feel that she could +ever touch it again. She wondered at him, and now if he had spoken to +Mrs. Maybough instead of Charmian, it was not her fault, certainly. She +did not wish to revenge herself, but she remembered how much she had +been left to account for as she could, or painfully to ignore. If he +was mystified and puzzled now, it was no more than she had been before. + +There was nothing that Cornelia hated so much as to be made a fool of, +and this was the grievance which she was willing fate should retaliate +upon him, though she had not meant it at all. She ought to have been +satisfied, and she ought to have been happy, but she was not. + +She wished to escape from herself, and she eagerly accepted an +invitation to go with Mrs. Montgomery to the theatre that night. The +manager had got two places and given them to the landlady. + +Cornelia had a passion for the theatre, and in the excitement of the +play, which worked strongly in her ingenuous fancy, she forgot herself +for the time, or dimly remembered the real world and her lot in it, as +if it were a subordinate action of the piece. At the end of the fourth +act she heard a voice which she knew, saying, "Well, well! Is this the +way the folks at Pymantoning expect you to spend your evenings?" She +looked up and around, and saw Mr. Dickerson in the seat behind her. He +put forward two hands over her shoulder--one for her to shake, and one +for Mrs. Montgomery. + +"Why, Mr. Dickerson!" said the landlady, "where did you spring from? +You been sitting here behind us all the time?" + +"I wish I had," said Dickerson. "But this seat is 'another's,' as they +say on the stage; he's gone out 'to see a man,' and I'm keeping it for +him. Just caught sight of you before the curtain fell. Couldn't hardly +believe my eyes." + +"But where _are_ you? Why haven't you been round to the house?" + +"Well, I'm only here for a day," said Dickerson, with a note of +self-denial in his voice that Cornelia knew was meant for her, "and I +thought I wouldn't disturb you. No use making so many bites of a +cherry. I got in so late last night I had to go to a hotel anyway." + +Mrs. Montgomery began some hospitable expostulations, but be waived +them with, "Yes; that's all right. I'll remember it next time, Mrs. +Montgomery," and then he began to speak of the play, and he was so +funny about some things in it that he made Cornelia laugh. He took +leave of them when the owner of the seat came back. He told Mrs. +Montgomery he should not see her again this time; but at the end of the +play they found him waiting for them at the outer door of the theatre. +He skipped lightly into step with them. "Thought I might as well see +you home, as they say in Pymantoning. Do' know as I shall be back for +quite a while, this next trip, and we don't see much ladies' society on +the road; at least, _I_ don't. I'm not so easy to make acquaintance as +I used to be. I suppose it was being married so long. I can't manage to +help a pretty girl raise a car-window, or put her grip into the rack, +the way I could once. Fact is, there don't seem to _be_ so many pretty +girls as there were, or else I'm gettin' old-sighted, and can't see +'em." + +He spoke to Mrs. Montgomery, but Cornelia knew he was talking at her. +Now he leaned forward and addressed her across Mrs. Montgomery: "Do' +know as I told you that I saw your mother in Lakeland day before +yesterday, Miss Saunders." + +"Oh, did you?" Cornelia eagerly besought him. The apparition of her +mother rose before her; it was almost like having her actually there, +to meet some one who had seen her so lately. "Was she looking well? The +last letter she wrote she hadn't been very----" + +"Well, I guess she's all right, now. You know _I_ think your mother is +about the finest woman in this world, Miss Nelie, and the +prettiest-looking. I've never told you about Mrs. Saunders, have I, +Mrs. Montgomery? Well, you wouldn't know but her and Miss Nelie were +sisters. She looks like a girl, a little way off; and she _is_ a girl, +in her feelings. She's got the kindest heart, and she's the best person +_I_ ever saw. I tell you, it would be a different sort of a world if +everybody was like Mrs. Saunders, and I should ha' been a different +sort of a man if I'd always appreciated her goodness. Well, so it +goes," he said, with a sigh of indefinite regret, which availed with +Cornelia because it was mixed with praise of her mother; it made her +feel safer with him and more tolerant. He leaned forward again, and +said across Mrs. Montgomery, as before: "She was gettin' off the train +from Pymantoning, and I was just takin' my train West, but I knew it +was her as soon as I saw her walk. I was half a mind to stop and speak +to her, and let my train go." + +Cornelia could see her mother, just how she would look, wandering +sweetly and vaguely away from her train, and the vision was so +delightful to her, that it made her laugh. "I guess you're mother's +girl," Mrs. Montgomery interpreted, and Mr. Dickerson said: + +"Well, I guess she's got a good right to be. I wasn't certain whether +it was her or Miss Saunders first when I saw her, the other day." + +At her door Mrs. Montgomery invited him to come in, and he said he did +not know but he would for a minute, and Cornelia's gratitude for his +praise of her mother kept her from leaving them at once. In the +dining-room, where Mrs. Montgomery set out a lunch for him, he began to +tell stories. + +Cornelia had no grudge against him for the past. She was only too glad +that it had all fallen out as it did; and though she still knew that he +was a shameless little wretch, she did not feel so personally disgraced +by him, as she had at first, when she was not sure she could make him +keep his distance. He was a respite from her own thoughts, and she +lingered and lingered, and listened and listened, remotely aware that +it was wrong, but somehow bewildered and constrained. + +Mrs. Montgomery went down to the kitchen a moment, for something more +to add to the lunch, and he seized the chance to say, "I know how you +feel about me, Miss Saunders, and I don't blame you. You needn't be +afraid; I ain't going to trouble you. I might, if you was a different +kind of girl; but I've thought it all over since I saw you, and I +respect you. I hope you won't give me away to Mrs. Montgomery, but if +you do, I shall respect you all the same, and I sha'n't blame you, even +then." The landlady returned, and he went on, "I was just tellin' Miss +Saunders about my friend Bob Whiteley's railroad accident. But you've +heard it so often." + +"Oh, well, do go on!" said Mrs. Montgomery, setting down the plate of +cold chicken she had brought back with her. + +It was midnight before he rose. "I declare I could listen all night," +said Mrs. Montgomery. + +Cornelia could have done so, too, but she did not say it. While the +talk lasted, she had a pleasure in the apt slang, and sinister wit and +low wisdom, which made everything higher and nobler seem ridiculous. +She tried helplessly to rise above the delight she found in it, and +while she listened, she was miserably aware that she was unworthy even +of the cheap respect which this amusing little wretch made a show of +paying her before Mrs. Montgomery. + +She loathed him, and yet she hated to have him go; for then she would +be left to herself and her own thoughts. As she crept up the long +stairs to her room, she asked herself if she could be the same girl who +had poured tea at Mrs. Westley's, and talked to all those refined +people, who seemed to admire her and make much of her, as if she were +one of them. Before, she had escaped from the toils of that folly of +the past by disowning it; but now, she had voluntarily made it hers. +She had wilfully entangled herself in its toils; they seemed to trip +her steps, and make her stumble on the stairs as if they were tangible +things. She had knowingly suffered such a man as that, whose commonness +of soul she had always instinctively felt, to come back into her life, +and she could never banish him again. She could never even tell any +one; she was the captive of her shabby secret till he should come again +and openly claim her. He would come again; there could be no doubt of +that. + +On the bureau before her glass lay a letter. It was from Ludlow, and it +delicately expressed the hope that there had been nothing in his manner +of offering to help her with her picture which made it impossible for +her to accept. "I need not tell you that I think you have talent, for I +have told you that before. I have flattered myself that I had a +personal interest in it, because I saw it long ago, and I have been +rather proud of thinking that you were making use of me. I wish you +would think the matter over, and decide to go on with your picture of +Miss Maybough. I promise to reduce my criticism to a minimum, for I +think it is more important that you should keep on in your own way, +even if you go a little wrong in it, now and then, than that you should +go perfectly right in some one's else. Do let me hear from you, and say +that I may come Saturday to Miss Maybough's studio, and silently see +what you are doing." + +In a postscript he wrote: "I am afraid that I have offended you by +something in my words or ways. If I have, won't you at least let me +come and be forgiven?" + +She dropped her face on the letter where it lay open before her, and +stretched out her arms, and moaned in a despair that no tears even came +to soften. She realized how much worse it was to have made a fool of +herself than to be made a fool of. + + + + +XXIX. + + +There was only one thing for Cornelia to do now, and she did it as well +as she knew how, or could hope to know without the help that she could +not seek anywhere. She wrote to Ludlow and thanked him, and told him +that she did not think she should go on with the picture of Charmian, +for the present. She said, in the first five or six drafts of her +letter, that it had been her uncertainty as to this which made her +hesitate when he spoke to her, but in every form she gave this she +found it false; and at last she left it out altogether, and merely +assured him that she had nothing whatever to forgive him. She wished to +forbid his coming to see her; she did not know quite how to do that; +but either the tone of her letter was forbidding enough, or else he +felt that he had done his whole duty, now, for he did not come. + +With moments of utter self-abasement, she had to leave Charmian to the +belief that she was distraught and captious, solely for the reason they +shared the secret of, and Charmian respected this with a devotion so +obvious as to be almost spectacular. Cornelia found herself turning +into a romantic heroine, and had to make such struggle against the +transformation as she could in bursts of hysterical gayety. These had +rather the effect of deepening Charmian's compassionate gloom, till she +exhausted her possibilities in that direction and began to crave some +new expression. There was no change in her affection for Cornelia; and +there were times when Cornelia longed to trust her fully; she knew that +it would be safe, and she did not believe that it would lower her in +Charmian's eyes; but to keep the fact of her weakness altogether her +own seemed the only terms on which she could bear it. + +One day there came a letter from her mother out of her usual order of +writing; she wrote on Sunday, and her letters reached Cornelia the next +evening; but this letter came on a Wednesday morning, and the sight of +it filled Cornelia with alarm, first for her mother, and then for +herself; which deepened as she read: + + "DEAR NIE: That good-for-nothing little scrub has been here, talken + aboute you, and acting as if you was hand-and-glove with him. Now + Nelie, I don't want to interfere with you anyway and I won't if you + say the word. But I never felt just righte about that fellow, and + what I done long ago to make you tollerate him, and now I want to + make it up to you if I can. He is a common low-down person, and he + isn't fit to speake to you, and I hope you wont speake to him. The + divorce, the way I look at it, don't make any difference; hese just + as much married as what he ever was, and if he had never been + married atoll, it wouldn't of made any difference as far as I feel + about it. Now Nelie, you are old enough to take care of yourself, + but I hope if that fellow ever comes around you again, you'll box + his ears and be done with him. I know hes got a smooth tongue, and + he can make you laugh in spite of yourselfe, but don't you have + anything to do with him. + + "MOTHER. + + "P. S. I have been talken it over with Mrs. Burton, and she thinks + just the way I do aboute it. She thinks you are good enough for the + best, and you no need to throw yourself away on such a perfect + little scamp. In haste. How is that cellebrated picture that you + are painting with Mr. Ludlow getting along?" + + * * * * * + +Cornelia got this letter from the postman at Mrs. Montgomery's door, +when she opened it to go out in the morning, and she read it on her way +to the Synthesis. It seemed to make the air reel around her, and step +by step she felt as if she should fall. A wild anger swelled her heart, +and left no room there for shame even. She wondered what abominable +lies that little wretch had told; but they must have been impudent +indeed to overcome her mother's life-long reluctance from writing and +her well-grounded fears of spelling, so far as to make her send a +letter out of the usual course. But when her first fury passed, and she +began to grow weak in the revulsion, she felt only her helplessness in +the presence of such audacity, and a fear that nothing could save her +from him. If he could make her so far forget herself as to tolerate +him, to listen to his stories, to laugh at his jokes, and show him that +she enjoyed his company, after all she knew of him, then he could make +her marry him, if he tried. + +The logic was perfect, and it seemed but another link in the +infrangible chain of events, when she found another letter waiting for +her at the office of the Synthesis. It bore the postmark of Lakeland, +of the same date as her mother's, and in the corner of the envelope the +business card of Gates & Clarkson, Dealers in Art Goods; J. B. +Dickerson, in a line of fine print at the top was modestly "with" them. + +The address, "Dear friend," was written over something else which had +been rubbed out, but beyond this the letter ran fluently and +uninterruptedly along in a hand which had a business-like directness +and distinctness. "I don't know," the writer said, "as you expected to +hear from me, and I don't know as I expected to let you, but +circumstances alter cases, and I just wanted to drop you a line and +tell you that I have been in Pymantoning and seen your mother. She is +looking prime, and younger than ever. We had a long talk about old +times, and I told her what a mistake I made. Confession is good for the +soul, they say, and I took a big dose of it; I guess I confessed pretty +much everything; regular Topsey style. Well, your mother didn't spare +me any, and I don't know but what she was about right. The fact is, a +man on the road don't think as much about his p's and q's as he ought +as long as he is young, and if I made a bad break in that little +matrimonial venture of mine, I guess it was no more than I deserved to. +I told your mother just how I happened to meet you again, and how the +sight of you was enough to make another man of me. I was always a +little too much afraid of you, or it might have turned out different; +but I can appreciate a character like yours, and I want you to know it. +I guess your mother sized it up about right when I said all I asked was +to worship you at a distance, and she said she guessed you would look +out for the _distance._ I told her you had, up to date. I want you to +understand that I don't presume on anything, and if we seemed to have a +pretty good time after the theatre, the other night, it was because you +didn't want to spoil Mrs. Montgomery's fun, and treated me well just +because I was a friend of hers. Well, it's pretty hard to realize that +my life is ruined, and that I have got nobody but myself to thank for +it, but I guess that's what I've got to come to, sooner or later. It's +what your mother said, and I guess she was right; she didn't spare me a +bit, and I didn't want her to. I knew she would write to you, as soon +as I was gone, and tell you not to have anything to do with me; and if +she has, all I have got to say is, _all right_. I have been a bad lot, +and I don't deny it, and all I can ask now, from this time forward, is +to be kept from doing any more mischief. I don't know as I shall ever +see you again; I had a kind of presentiment I shouldn't, and I told +your mother so. I don't know but I told a little more about how kind +you were to me the other evening than what the facts would justify +exactly, but as sure as you live I didn't _mean_ to lie about it. If I +exaggerated any, it was because it seemed the greatest thing in the +world to me, just to talk to you, and be where I could see you smile, +and hear you laugh; you've got a laugh that is like a child's, or an +angel's, if angels laugh. I've heard of their weeping, and if you knew +my whole life, I think you would shed a tear or two over me. But that +is not what I am trying to get at; I want to explain that if I appeared +to brag of being tolerated by you, and made it seem any thing more than +toleration, it was because it was like heaven to me not to have you +give me the grand bounce again. And what I want to ask you now, is just +to let me write to you, every now and then, and when I am tempted to go +wrong, anyways--and a business life is full of temptations--let me put +the case before you, and have you set me right. I won't want but a word +from you, and most part of the time, I shall just want to free my mind +to you on life in general, and won't expect any answer. I feel as if +you had got my soul in your hands, and you could save it, or throw it +away. That is all. I am writing on the train, and I have to use pencil. +I hope you'll excuse the stationery; it's all the porter could get me, +and I'm anxious to have a letter go back to you at once. I know your +mother has written to you, and I want to corroborate everything she +says against me." + +The letter covered half-a-dozen telegraph blanks, and filled them full, +so that the diffident suggestion, "My permanent address is with Gates & +Clarkson," had to be written along the side of the first page. + +The low cunning, the impudent hypocrisy, the leering pretence of +reverence, the affectation of penitence, the whole fraudulent design, +so flimsy that the writer himself seemed to be mocking at it, was open +to Cornelia, and she read the letter through with distinct relief. +Whatever the fascinations of Mr. Dickerson were when he was personally +at hand, he had none at a distance, and when she ran over the pages a +second time, it was with a laugh, which she felt sure he would have +joined her in, if he had been there. It turned her tragedy into farce +so completely, for the time, that she went through her morning's work +with a pleasure and a peace of mind which she had not felt for many +days. It really seemed such a joke, that she almost yielded to the +temptation of showing passages of the letter to Charmian; and she +forebore only because she would have had to tell more than she cared to +have any one know of Mr. Dickerson, if she did. She had a right to keep +all that from those who had no right to know it, but she had no right, +or if she had the right, she had not the power to act as if the past +had never been. She set herself to bear what was laid upon her, and if +she was ever to have strength for her burden she must begin by owning +her weakness. There was no one to whom she could own it but her mother, +and she did this fully as soon as she got back to her room, and could +sit down to answer her letter. She enclosed Dickerson's, and while she +did not spare him, she took the whole blame upon herself, for she said +she might have known that if she suffered him to see that he amused her +or pleased her at all, he was impudent enough to think that he could +make her like him again. "And mother," she wrote, "you know I never +really liked him, and was only too glad to get rid of him; you know +that much. But I suppose you will wonder, then, why I ever let him +speak to me if I really despised him as much as ever; and that is not +easy to explain. For one thing he was with Mrs. Montgomery, and she +likes him, and she has always been so good to me that I hated to treat +him badly before her; but that is not the real reason, and I am not +going to pretend it was. You know yourself how funny he is, and can +make you laugh in spite of yourself, but it was not that, either. It +was because I was angry with myself for having been angry with some one +else, without a cause, as I can see it now, and I had made a fool of +myself, and I wanted to get away from myself. I cannot tell you just +how it was, yet, and I do not know as I ever can, but that was truly +it, and nothing else, though the other things had something to do with +it. I suppose it was just like men when they take a drink of whiskey to +make them forget. The worst of it all is, and the discouraging part is, +that it shows me I have not changed a particle. My temper is just us +bad as ever, and I might as well be back at sixteen, for all the sense +I've got. Sometimes it seems to me that the past is all there is of us, +anyway. It seems to come up in me, all the time, and I am so ashamed I +don't know what to do. I make all kinds of good resolutions, and I want +to be good, and then comes something and it is all over with me. Then, +it appears as if it was not me, altogether, that is to blame. I know I +was to blame, this last time, laughing at that little 'scrub's' jokes +as you call him, and behaving like a fool; but I don't see how I was to +blame for his coming back into my life, when I never really wanted him +at all, and certainly never wished to set eyes on him again. + +"I don't suppose it would be the least use to ask you not to show this +letter to Mrs. Burton, and I won't, but if you do, I wish you would ask +her what she thinks it means, and whether it's fate, or foreordination, +or _what_." + +Mrs. Saunders carried Cornelia's letter to Mrs. Burton, as Cornelia had +foreseen, but the question she put to her was not the abstraction the +girl had suggested. "Mrs. Burton," she asked, "who was it do you +suppose Nie was so mad with that she had to go off and play the fool, +that way?" + +Mrs. Burton passed the point of casuistry too. "Well, of course I don't +know, Mrs. Saunders. Has she said anything about Mr. Ludlow lately?" + +"No, she hain't said a word, and that seems suspicious. She said a week +or two ago that he had give up trying to paint that Maybough girl, and +that she guessed she had got the last of her lessons from him; but she +didn't seem much troubled about it. But I guess by her not wantin' to +tell, it's him. What do you suppose he did to provoke her?" + +"Oh, just some young people's nonsense, probably. It'll come all right. +You needn't worry about it, because if it won't come right of itself, +he'll _make_ it come." + +"Oh, I'm not worrying about that," said Mrs. Saunders, "I'm worrying +about this." She gave her the letter Cornelia had enclosed, and as Mrs. +Burton began to read it she said, "If that fellow keeps on writing to +her, I don't know what I _will_ do." + + + + +XXX. + + +Ludlow did not come to see Cornelia, but they met, from time to time, +at Mrs. Westley's, where he was aware of her being rather taken up; at +Mrs. Maybough's, where he found it his duty to show himself after his +failure with Charmian's picture, so as to help Mrs. Maybough let people +know there was nothing but the best feeling about it; and, more to his +surprise, at Wetmore's. At the painter's, Charmian, who came with her, +realized more than anywhere else, her dream of Bohemia, and Wetmore +threw a little excess into the social ease of his life that he might +fulfil her ideal. He proposed that Mrs. Wetmore should set the example +of hilarities that her domestic spirit abhorred; he accused her of +cutting off his beer, and invented conditions of insolvency and +privation that surpassed Charmian's wildest hopes. He borrowed money of +Ludlow in her presence, and said that he did not know that he should +ever be able to pay it back. He planned roystering escapades which were +never put in effect, and once he really went out with the two girls to +the shop of an old German, on the Avenue, who dealt in _delicatessen_, +and bought some Nuremberg gingerbread and a bottle of lime-juice, after +rejecting all the ranker meats and drinks as unworthy the palates of +true Bohemians. He invited Charmian to take part in various _bats_, for +the purpose of shocking the Pymantoning propriety of Cornelia, and they +got such fun out of it as children do when the make-believe of their +elders has been thinned to the most transparent pretence; but Charmian, +who knew he was making fun of her, remained as passionately attached to +the ideal he mocked as ever; and Cornelia had the guilty pang of +wondering what he would think of her if he knew all about Mr. +Dickerson, whose nature she now perceived to be that of the vulgarest +_batting_. + +She did not answer the letter she first got, nor any of those which +immediately followed, and this had the effect of checking Mr. +Dickerson's ardor for so long a time that she began to think he would +not trouble her again. + +There was no real offence between her and Ludlow, or any but such as +could wear itself away with time and the custom of friendly meeting. He +had the magnanimity to ignore it when he first saw her after that +Thursday of Mrs. Westley's, and she had too keen a sense of having been +a fool not to wish to act more wisely as soon as she could forget. +There came so long a lapse between the letters of Mr. Dickerson that he +ceased, at least perpetually, to haunt her thoughts. She had moments +when it seemed as if she might justly consent to be happy again, or at +least allow herself to enjoy the passing pleasure of the time without +blame. She even suffered herself to fancy taking up the picture of +Charmian, and carrying it farther under Ludlow's criticism. She was +very ambitious to try her fate with the Academy, and when he offered so +generously to help her again, as if she had not refused him once so +rudely, she could not deny him. She found herself once more in +Charmian's studio, and it all began to go on the same as if it had +never stopped. It seemed like a dream, sometimes, when she thought +about it, and it did not seem like a very wise dream. Cornelia now +wished, above all things, to have a little bit of sense, as she phrased +it in her thoughts; and she was aware that the present position of +affairs might look rather crazy to some people. The best excuse for it +was that it would have looked crazier yet if she had refused such an +opportunity simply because of the circumstances. She began to be a +little vague about the circumstances, and whether they were queer +because she had fancied a likeness of herself in Mr. Ludlow's picture +of Charmian, or because she had afterwards made a fool of herself so +irreparably as to be unworthy Mr. Ludlow's kindness. + +If it was merely kindness, and she was the object of charity, it was +all right; she could accept it on those terms. She even tempted him to +patronize her, but when he ventured upon something elderly and paternal +in his monitions, she resented it so fiercely that she was astonished +and ashamed. There was an inconsistency in it all that was perplexing, +but not so perplexing as to spoil the pleasure of it. + +There were not sittings every day, now; Ludlow came once or twice a +week, and criticised her work; sometimes he struck off a sketch +himself, in illustration of a point, and these sketches were now so +unlike Cornelia, and so wholly like Charmian, that when he left them +for her guidance, she studied them with a remote ache in her heart. +"Never mind," Charmian consoled her once, "he just does it on purpose." + +"Does what?" Cornelia demanded awfully. + +"Oh, nothing!" + +One of the sketches he fancied so much that he began to carry it +forward. He worked at it whenever he came, and under his hand it grew +an idealized Charmian, in which her fantastic quality expressed itself +as high imagination, and her formless generosity as a wise and noble +magnanimity. + +She made fun of it when they were alone, but Cornelia could see that +she was secretly proud of having inspired it, and that she did not +really care for the constant portrait which Cornelia had been +faithfully finishing up, while Ludlow changed and experimented, though +Charmian praised her to his disadvantage. + +One day he said he had carried his picture as far as he could, and he +should let it go at that. It seemed an end of their pleasant days +together; the two girls agreed that now there could be no further +excuse for their keeping on, and Cornelia wondered how she could let +him know that she understood. That evening he came to call on her at +Mrs. Montgomery's, and before he sat down he began to say: "I want to +ask your advice, Miss Saunders, about what I shall do with my sketch of +Miss Maybough." + +Cornelia blenched, for no reason that she could think of; she could not +gasp out the "Yes" that she tried to utter. + +"You see," he went on, "I know that I've disappointed Mrs. Maybough, +and I'd like to make her some sort of reparation, but I can't offer her +the sketch instead of the portrait; if she liked it she would want to +pay for it, and I can't take money for it. So I've thought of giving +the sketch to Miss Maybough." + +He looked at Cornelia, now, for the advice he had asked, but she did +not speak, and he had to say: "But I don't know whether she likes it or +not. Do you know whether she does? Has she ever spoken of it to you? Of +course she's said civil things to me about it. I beg your pardon! I +suppose you don't care to tell, and I had no right to inquire." + +"Oh, yes; yes." + +"Well?" + +"I know she likes it; she must." + +"But she hasn't said so?" + +"Not--exactly." + +"Then what makes you think she does?" + +"I don't know. Any one would. It's very beautiful." Cornelia spoke very +dryly, very coldly. + +"But is it a likeness? Is it she? Her character? What do _you_ think of +it yourself?" + +"I don't know as I can say----" + +"Ah, I see you don't like it!" said Ludlow, with an air of +disappointment. "And yet I aimed at pleasing you in it." + +"At pleasing _me_?" she murmured thickly back. + +"Yes, you. I tried to see her as you do; to do her justice, and if it +is overdone, or flattered, or idealized, it is because I've been +working toward your notion----" + +"Oh!" said Cornelia, and then, to the great amazement of herself as +well as Ludlow, she began to laugh, and she laughed on, with her face +in her handkerchief. When she took her handkerchief down, her eyes +looked strange, but she asked, with a sort of radiance, "And did you +think I thought Charmian was really like that?" + +"Why, I didn't know---- You've been very severe with me when I've +suggested she wasn't. At first, when I wanted to do her as Humbug, you +wouldn't stand it, and now, when I've done her as Mystery, you laugh." + +Cornelia pressed her handkerchief to her shining eyes, and laughed a +little more. "That is because she isn't either. Can't you understand?" + +"I could understand her being both, I think. Don't you think she's a +little of both?" + +"I told you," said Cornelia gravely, "that I didn't like to talk +Charmian over." + +"That was a good while ago. I didn't know but you might, by this time." + +"Why?" she asked. "Am I so changeable?" + +"No; you're the one constant and steadfast creature in a world of +variableness. I didn't really expect that. I know that I can always +find you where I left you. You are the same as when I first saw you." + +It seemed to Cornelia that she had been asking him to praise her, and +she was not going to have that. "Do you mean that I behave as badly as +I did in the Fair House? No wonder you treat me like a child." This was +not at all what she meant to say, however, and was worse than what she +had said before. + +"No," he answered seriously. "I meant that you are not capricious, and +I hate caprice. But do I treat you like a child?" + +"Sometimes," said Cornelia, looking down and feeling silly. + +"I am very sorry. I wish you would tell me how." + +She had not expected this pursuit, and she flashed back, "You are doing +it now! You wouldn't say that to--to--any one else." + +Ludlow paused thoughtfully. Then he said, "I seem to treat myself like +a child when I am with you. Perhaps that's what displeases you. Well, I +can't help that. It is because you are so true that I can't keep up the +conventions with you." They were both silent; Cornelia was trying to +think what she should say, and he added, irrelevantly, "If you don't +like that sketch of her, I won't give it to her." + +"I? What have I to do with it?" She did not know what they were talking +about, or to what end. "Yes, you must give it to her. I know she wants +it. And I know how kind you are, and good. I didn't mean--I didn't wish +to blame you--I don't know why I'm making such a _perfect_ fool of +myself." + +She had let him have her hand somehow, and he was keeping it; but they +had both risen. + +"May I stay a moment?" he entreated. + +No one thing now seemed more inconsequent than another, and Cornelia +answered, with a catching of her breath, but as if it quite followed, +"Why, certainly," and they both sat down again. + +"There is something I wish to tell--to speak of," he began. "I think +it's what you mean. In my picture of Miss Maybough----" + +"I didn't mean that at all. That doesn't make any difference to me," +she broke incoherently in upon him. "I didn't care for it. You can do +what you please with it." + +He looked at her in a daze while she spoke. "Oh," he said, "I am very +stupid. I didn't mean this sketch of mine; I don't care for that, now. +I meant that other picture of her--the last one--the one I painted out +before I gave up painting her---- Did you see that it was like you?" + +Cornelia felt that he was taking an advantage of her, and she lifted +her eyes indignantly. "Mr. Ludlow!" + +"Ah! Don't think _that_," he pleaded, and she knew that he meant her +unexpressed sense of unfairness in him. "I know you saw it; and the +likeness was there because--I wanted to tell you long ago, but I +couldn't, because when we met afterwards I was afraid that I was +mistaken, in what I thought--hoped. I had no right to know anything +till I was sure of myself; but--the picture was like you because you +were all the time in my thoughts, and nothing and no one but you. +Cornelia----" She rose up crazily, and looked toward the door, as if +she were going to run out of the room. "What is it?" he implored. "You +know I love you." + +"Let me go!" she panted. + +"If you tell me you don't care for me----" + +"I don't! I don't care for you, and--let me go!" + +He stood flushed and scared before her. "I--I am sorry. I didn't +mean--I hoped---- But it is all right---- I mean you are right, and I +am wrong. I am very wrong." + + + + +XXXI. + + +Ludlow stood aside and Cornelia escaped. When she reached her own room, +she had a sense of her failure to take formal leave of him, and she +mechanically blamed herself for that before she blamed herself for +anything else. At first he was altogether to blame, and she heaped the +thought of him with wild reproach and injury; if she had behaved like a +fool, it was because she was trapped into it, and could not help it; +she had to do so. She recalled distinctly, amidst the turmoil, how she +had always kept in mind that a girl who had once let a man, like that +dreadful little wretch, whose name she could not take into her +consciousness, suppose that she could care for him, could not let a man +like Ludlow care for her. If she did, she was wicked, and she knew she +had not done it for she had been on her guard against it. The reasoning +was perfect, and if he had spoiled everything now, he had himself to +thank for it; and she did not pity him. Still she wished she had not +run out of the room; she wished she had behaved with more dignity, and +not been rude; he could laugh at her for that; it was like her behavior +with him from the very beginning; there was something in him that +always made her behave badly with him, like a petulant child. He would +be glad to forget her; he would believe, now, that she was not good +enough for him; and he might laugh; but at least he could not say that +she had ever done or said the least thing to let him suppose that she +cared for him. If she had, she should not forgive herself, and she +should pity him as much as she blamed him now. There was nothing in her +whole conduct that would have warranted her in supposing such a thing, +if she were a man. Cornelia had this comfort, and she clung to it, till +it flashed through her that not being a man, she could not imagine what +the things were that could let a man suppose it. She had never thought +of that before, and it dazed her. Perhaps he had seen all along that +she did care for him, that he had known it in some way unknown and +forever unknowable to her; the way a man knows; and all her disguises +had availed nothing against him. Then, if he had known, he had acted +very deceitfully and very wrongfully, and nothing could excuse him +unless there had been other signs that a girl would recognize, too. +That would excuse him, it would justify him, and she tried to see the +affair with another woman's eyes. She tried to see it with Charmian's +eves, but she knew they were filled with a romantic iridescence that +danced before them and wrapt it in a rainbow mist. Then she tried Mrs. +Westley's eyes, which she knew were friendly to both Ludlow and +herself, and she told her everything in her impassioned revery: all +about that little wretch; all about the first portrait of Charmian and +the likeness they had seen in it; all about what had happened since +Ludlow began to criticise her work again. In the mere preparation for +this review she found another's agency insufferable; she abandoned +herself wildly to a vision which burned itself upon her in mass and +detail, under a light that searched motive and conduct alike, and left +her no refuge from the truth. Then she perceived, how at every moment +since they began those last lessons at Charmain's he must have believed +she cared for him and wished him to care for her. If she had not seen +it too, it was because she was stupid, and she was to blame all the +same. She was blind to what he saw in her, and she had thought because +she was hidden from herself that she was hidden from him. + +It was not a question now of whether she cared for him, or not; that +was past all question; but whether she had not led him on to think she +did, and she owned that down to the last moment before he had spoken, +wittingly or unwittingly she had coaxed him to praise her, to console +her, lo make love to her. She was rightly punished, and she was ready +to suffer, but she could not let him suffer the shame of thinking +himself wrong. That was mean, that was cowardly, and whatever she was, +Cornelia was not base, and not afraid. She would have been willing to +follow him into the night, to go to his door, and knock at it, and when +he came, flash out at him, "I did love you, I do love you," and then +run, she did not know where, but somewhere out of the world. But he +might not be there, or some one else might come to the door; the crude, +material difficulties denied her the fierce joy of this exploit, but +she could not rest (she should never really rest again) till she had +done the nearest thing to it that she could. She looked at the little +busy-bee clock ticking away on her bureau and saw that it was half-past +eleven o'clock, and that there was no time to lose, and she sat down +and wrote: "I did care for you. But I can never see you again. I cannot +tell you the reason." + +She drew a deep breath when the thing was done, and hurried the scrap +unsigned into an envelope and addressed it to Ludlow. She was in a +frenzy till she could get it out of her hands and into the postal-box +beyond recall. She pulled a shawl over her head and flew down stairs +and out of the door into the street toward the postal-box on the +corner. But before she reached it she thought of a special-delivery +stamp, which should carry the letter to Ludlow the first thing in the +morning, and she pushed on to the druggist's at the corner beyond to +get it. She was aware of the man staring at her, as if she had asked +for arsenic; and she supposed she must have looked strange. This did +not come into her mind till she found herself again at Mrs. +Montgomery's door, where she stood in a panic ecstasy at having got rid +of the letter, which the special stamp seemed to make still more +irrevocable, and tried to fit her night-latch into the lock. The cat, +which had been shut out, crept up from the area, and rubbed with a soft +insinuation against her skirt. She gave a little shriek of terror, and +the door was suddenly pulled open from within. + +She threw back her shawl from her head, and under the low-burning +gas-light held aloft by the spelter statuette in the newel post, she +confronted Mr. Dickerson. He had his hat on, and had the air of just +having let himself in; his gripsack stood at his feet. + +"Why, Nelie! Miss Saunders! Is that you? Why, where in the world---- +Well, this _is_ something like 'Willy, we have missed you'; I've just +come. What was the matter out there? Somebody trying to scare you? +Well, there's nothing to be afraid of now, anyway. How you do pant! But +it becomes you. Yes, it does! You look now just like I've seen you all +the time I've been gone! You didn't answer any of my letters; I don't +know as I could have expected any different. But I did hope---- Nelie, +it's no use! I've got to speak out, and it's now or never; maybe there +won't be another chance. Look here, my girl! I _want_ you--I love you, +Nie! and I always d----" + +He had got her hand, and he was drawing her toward him. She struggled +to free herself, but he pulled her closer. + +Her heart swelled with a fury of grief for all she had suffered and +lost through him. She thought of what her mother had said she ought to +do if he ever spoke to her again; there came without her agency, +almost, three swift, sharp, electrical blows from the hand she had +freed; she saw him reeling backward with his hand at his face, and then +she was standing in her own room, looking at her ghost in the glass. + +Now, if Mr. Ludlow knew, he would surely despise her, and she wished +she were dead indeed: not so much because she had boxed Dickerson's +ears as because she had done what obliged her to do it. + + + + +XXXII. + + +It is hard for the young to understand that the world which seems to +stop with their disaster is going on with smooth indifference, and that +a little time will carry them so far from any fateful event that when +they gather courage to face it they will find it curiously shrunken in +the perspective. Nothing really stops the world but death, and that +only for the dead. If we live, we must move on, we must change, we must +outwear every motion, however poignant or deep. Cornelia's shame failed +to kill her; she woke the next morning with a self-loathing that seemed +even greater than that of the night before, but it was actually less; +and it yielded to the strong will which she brought to bear upon +herself. She went to her work at the Synthesis as if nothing had +happened, and she kept at it with a hard, mechanical faithfulness which +she found the more possible, perhaps, because Charmian was not there, +for some reason, and she had not her sympathy as well as her own +weakness to manage. She surprised herself with the results of her +pitiless industry, and realized for the first time the mysterious +duality of being, in the power of the brain and the hand to toil while +the heart aches. + +She was glad, she kept assuring herself, that she had put an end to all +hope from Ludlow; she rejoiced bitterly that now, however she had +disgraced herself in her violent behavior, she had at least disgraced +no one else. No one else could suffer through any claim upon her, or +kindness for her, or had any right to feel ashamed of her or injured by +her. But Cornelia was at the same time puzzled and perplexed with +herself, and dismayed with the slightness of her hold upon impulses of +hers which she thought she had overcome and bound forever. She made the +discovery, which she was yet far too young to formulate, that she had a +temperament to deal with that could at any time shake to ruins the +character she had so carefully built upon it, and had so wholly +mistaken for herself. In the midst of this dismay she made another +discovery, and this was that perhaps even her temperament was not what +she had believed it, but was still largely unknown to her. She had +always known that she was quick and passionate, but she certainly had +not supposed that she was capable of the meanness of wondering whether +Mr. Ludlow would take her note as less final than she had meant it, and +would perhaps seek some explanation of it. No girl that she ever heard +or read of, had ever fallen quite so low as to hope that; but was not +she hoping just that? Perhaps she had even written those words with the +tacit intention of calling him back! But this conjecture was the mere +play of a morbid fancy, and weak as she was, Cornelia had the strength +to forbid it and deny it. + +At the end of the afternoon, she pretended that she ought to go and see +what had happened to Charmian, and on the way, she had time to +recognize her own hypocrisy, and to resolve that she would do penance +for it by coming straight at the true reason of her errand. She was +sent to Charmian in her studio, and she scarcely gave her a chance to +explain that she had staid at home on account of a cold, and had +written a note for Cornelia to come to dinner with her, which she would +find when she got back. + +Cornelia said, "I want to tell you something, Charmian, and I want you +to tell me what you really think--whether I've done right, or not." + +Charmian's eyes lightened. "Wait a moment!" She got a piece of the +lightwood, and put it on the fire which she had kindled on the hearth +to keep the spring chill off, and went and turned Ludlow's sketch of +herself to the wall. "I know it's about him." Then she came and +crouched on the tiger-skin at Cornelia's feet, and clasped her hands +around her knees, and fixed her averted face on the blazing pine. "Now +go on," she said, as if she had arranged the pose to her perfect +satisfaction. + +Cornelia went on. "It's about him, and it's about some one else, too," +and she had no pity on herself in telling Charmian all about that +early, shabby affair with Dickerson. + +"I knew it," said Charmian, with a sigh of utter content, "I _told_ +you, the first time I saw you, that _you_ had lived. Well: and has +he--turned up?" + +"He has turned up--three times," said Cornelia. + +Charmian shivered with enjoyment of the romantic situation. She reached +a hand behind her and tried to clutch one of Cornelia's but had to get +on without it. "And well: have they met?" + +"No, they haven't," said Cornelia crossly, but not so much with +Charmian as with the necessity she was now in of telling her about her +last meeting with Ludlow. She began, "They almost did," and when +Charmian in the intensity of her interest could not keep turning around +to stare at her, Cornelia took hold of her head and turned her face +toward the fire again. Then she went on to tell how it had all +happened. She did not spare herself at any point, and she ended the +story with the expression of her belief that she had deserved it all. +"It wasn't boxing that little wretch's ears that was the disgrace; it +was having brought myself to where I _had_ to box them." + +"Yes, that was it," sighed Charmian, with deep conviction. + +"And I had to tell _him_ that I could never care for him, because I +couldn't bear to tell him what a fool I had been." + +"No, no; you never could do that!" + +"And I couldn't bear to have him think I was better than I really was, +or let him care for me unless I told him all about that miserable old +affair." + +"No, _you_ couldn't, Cornelia," said Charmian solemnly. "_Some_ girls +might; _most_ girls _would_. They would just consider it a flirtation, +and not say anything about it, or not till after they were engaged, and +then just laugh. But you are different from other girls--you are so +_true_! Yes, you would have to tell it if it killed you; I can see +that; and you couldn't tell it, and you had to break his heart. Yes, +you _had_ to!" + +"Oh, Charmian Maybough! How cruel you are!" Cornelia flung herself +forward and cried; Charmian whirled round, and kneeling before her, +threw her arms around her, in a pose of which she felt the perfection, +and kissed her tenderly. + +"Why didn't you let me see how you were looking? How I have gone +on----" + +Cornelia pulled herself loose. "Charmian! Do you _dare_ to mean that I +want him to ever speak to me again--or look at me?" + +"No, no----" + +"Or that I'm sorry I did it?" + +"No; it's this cold that's making me so stupid." + +"If he were to come back again this instant, I should have to tell him +just the same, or else tell him about that--that--and you know I +couldn't do that if I lived a thousand years." + +Now she melted, indeed, and suffered Charmian to moan over her, and +fortify her with all the reasons she had urged herself in various forms +of repetition. Charmain showed her again how impossible everything that +she had thought impossible was, and convinced her of every conviction. +She made Cornelia's tragedy her romance, and solemnly exulted in its +fatality, while she lifted her in her struggle of conscience to a +height from which for the present at least, Cornelia could not have +descended without a ruinous loss of self-respect. In the renunciation +in which the worshipper confirmed her saint, Ludlow and his rights and +feelings were ignored, and Cornelia herself was offered nothing more +substantial than the prospect that henceforth she and Charmian could +live for each other in a union that should be all principle on one side +and all adoration on the other. + + + + +XXXIII. + + +Cornelia did not go to pass that week in Lent with Mrs. Westley. When +she went, rather tardily, to withdraw her promise, she said that the +time was now growing so short she must give every moment to the +Synthesis. Mrs. Westley tacitly arranged to cancel some little plans +she had made for her, and in the pity a certain harassed air of the +girl's moved in her, she accepted her excuses as valid, and said, "But +I am afraid you are overworking at the Synthesis, Miss Saunders. Are +you feeling quite well?" + +"Oh, perfectly," Cornelia answered with a false buoyancy from which she +visibly fell. She looked down, and said, "I wish the work was twice as +hard!" + +"Ah, you have come to that very soon," said Mrs. Westley; and then they +were both silent, till she added, "How are you getting on with your +picture of Miss Maybough?" + +"Oh, I'm not doing anything with that," said Cornelia, and she stood up +to go. + +"But you are going to exhibit it?" Mrs. Westley persisted. + +"No, T don't know as I am. I should have to offer it first." + +"It would be sure to be accepted; Mr. Ludlow thinks it would." + +"Oh, yes; I know," said Cornelia, feeling herself get very red. "But I +guess I won't offer it. Goodbye." + +Mrs. Westley kept the impression of something much more personal than +artistic in Cornelia's reference to her picture, and when she met +Ludlow a few days after, she asked him if he knew that Miss Saunders +was not going to offer her picture to the Exhibition. + +He said simply that he did not know it. + +"Don't you think she ought? I don't think she's looking very well, of +late; do you?" + +"I don't know; isn't she? I haven't seen her----" He began carelessly; +he added anxiously. "When did you see her?" + +"A few days ago. She came to say she could not take the time from the +Synthesis to pay me that little visit. I'm afraid she's working too +hard. Of course, she's very ambitious; but I can't understand her not +wanting to show her picture, there, and trying to sell it." + +Ludlow stooped forward and pulled the long ears of Mrs. Westley's +fashionable dog which lay on the rug at his feet. + +"Have you any idea why she's changed her mind?" + +"Yes," said Ludlow. "I think it's because I helped her with it." + +"Is she so independent? Or perhaps I am not quite discreet----" + +"Why not? You say she didn't look well?" + +"She looked--worried." + +He asked, as if it immediately followed, "Mrs. Westley, should you mind +giving me a little advice about a matter--a very serious matter?" + +"If you won't follow it." + +"Do we ever?" + +"Well?" + +"How much use can a man be to a girl when he knows that he can't be of +the greatest?" + +"None, if he is sure." + +"He is perfectly sure." + +"He had better let her alone, then. He had better not try." + +"I am going to try. But I thank you for your advice more than if I were +going to take it." + +They parted laughing; and Mrs. Westley was contented to be left with +the mystery which she believed was no mystery to her. + +Ludlow went home and wrote to Cornelia: + + "DEAR MISS SAUNDERS: I hear you are not going to try to get your + picture into the Exhibition. I will not pretend not to understand + why, and you would not wish me to; so I feel free to say that you + are making a mistake. You ought to offer your picture; I think it + would be accepted, and you have no right to forego the chance it + would give you, for the only reason you can have. I know that Mr. + Wetmore would be glad to advise you about it; and I am sure you + will believe that I have not asked him to do so. + + "Yours sincerely, + + "W. LUDLOW." + +Cornelia turned this letter in many lights, and tried to take it in +many ways; but in the end she could only take it in the right way, and +she wrote back: + + "DEAR MR. LUDLOW: I thank you very much for your letter, and I am + going to do what you say. Yours sincerely, + + "CORNELIA SAUNDERS. + + "P. S. I do appreciate your kindness very much." + +She added this postscript after trying many times to write a reply that +would seem less blunt and dry; but she could not write anything at all +between a letter that she felt was gushing and this note which +certainly could not be called so; she thought the postscript did not +help it much, but she let it go. + +As soon as she had done so, it seemed to her that she had no reason for +having done so, and she did not see how she could justify it to +Charmian, whom she had told that she should not offer her picture. She +would have to say that she had changed her mind simply because Mr. +Ludlow had bidden her, and she tried to think how she could make that +appear sufficient. But Charmian was entirely satisfied. "Oh, yes," she +said, "that was the least you could do, when he asked you. You +certainly owed him _that_ much. _Now_," she added mystically, "he never +can say a _thing_." + +They were in Charmian's studio, where Cornelia's sketch of her had been +ever since she left working on it; and Charmian ran and got it, and set +it where they could both see it in the light of the new event. + +It's magnificent, Cornelia. There's no other word for it. Did you know +he was going to give me his?" + +"Yes, he told me he was going to," said Cornelia, looking at her +sketch, with a dreamy suffusion of happiness in her face. + +"It's glorious, but it doesn't come within a million miles of yours. +Mr. Wetmore isn't on the Committee, this year, but he knows them all, +and----" + +Cornelia turned upon her. "Charmian Maybough, if you breathe, if you +_dream_ a word to him about it I will never speak to you. If my picture +can't get into the Exhibition without the help of friends----" + +"Oh, _I_ shan't speak to him about it," Charmian hastened to assure +her. In pursuance of her promise, she only spoke to Mrs. Wetmore, and +at the right time Wetmore used his influence with the committee. Then, +for the reason, or the no reason that governs such matters, or because +Cornelia's picture was no better than too many others that were +accepted, it was refused. + + + + +XXXIV. + + +The blow was not softened to Cornelia by her having prophesied to +Charmian as well as to herself, that she knew her picture would be +refused. Now she was aware that at the bottom of her heart she had +always hoped and believed it would be accepted. She had kept it all +from her mother, but she had her fond, proud visions of how her mother +would look when she got her letter saying that she had a picture in the +Exhibition, and how she would throw on her sacque and bonnet, and run +up to Mrs. Burton for an explanation and full sense of the honor. In +these fancies Cornelia even had them come to New York, to see her +picture in position; it was not on the line, of course, and yet it was +not skyed. + +Her pride was not involved, and she suffered no sting of wounded vanity +from its rejection: her hurt was in a tenderer place. She would not +have cared how many people knew of her failure, if her mother and Mrs. +Burton need not have known; but she wrote faithfully home of it, and +tried to make neither much nor little of it. She forbade Charmian the +indignation which she would have liked to vent, but she let her cry +over the event with her. No one else knew that it had actually happened +except Wetmore and Ludlow; she was angry with them at first for +encouraging her to offer the picture, but Wetmore came and was so +mystified and humbled by its refusal, that she forgave him and even +comforted him for his part in the affair. + +"She acted like a little man about it," he reported to Ludlow. "She'll +do. When a girl can take a blow like that the way she does, she makes +you wish that more fellows were girls. When I had my first picture +refused, it laid me up. But I'm not going to let this thing rest. I'm +going to see if that picture can't be got into the American Artists'." + +"Better not," said Ludlow so vaguely that Wetmore thought he must mean +something. + +"Why?" + +"Oh--I don't believe she'd like it." + +"What makes you think so? Have you seen her?" + +"No----" + +"You haven't? Well, Ludlow, _I_ didn't lose any time. Perhaps you think +there was no one else to blame for the mortification of that poor +child." + +"No, I don't. I am to blame, too. I encouraged her to try--I urged +her." + +"Then I should think you would go and tell her so." + +"Ah, I think she knows it. If I told her anything, I should tell her no +one was to blame but myself." + +"Well, that wouldn't be a bad idea." Wetmore lighted his pipe. +"Confound those fellows! I should like to knock their heads together. +If there is anything like the self-righteousness of a committee when +it's wrong---but there isn't, fortunately." + +It was not the first time that Ludlow had faltered in the notion of +going to Cornelia and claiming to be wholly at fault. In thought he was +always doing it, and there were times when he almost did it in reality, +but he let these times pass effectless, hoping for some better time +when the thing would do itself, waiting for the miracle which love +expects, when it is itself the miracle that brings all its desires to +fulfilment. He certainly had some excuses for preferring a passive part +in what he would have been so glad to have happen. Cornelia had +confessed that she had once cared for him, but at the same time she had +implied that she cared for him no longer, and she had practically +forbidden him to see her again. Much study of her words could make +nothing else of them, and it was not until Ludlow saw his way to going +impersonally in his quality of mistaken adviser, from whom explanation +and atonement were due, that he went to Cornelia. Even then he did not +quite believe that she would see him, and he gladly lost the bet he +made himself, at the sound of a descending step on the stairs, that it +was the Irish girl coming back to say that Miss Saunders was not at +home. + +They met very awkwardly, and Ludlow had such an official tone in +claiming responsibility for having got Cornelia to offer her picture, +and so have it rejected, that he hardly knew who was talking. "That is +all," he said, stiffly; and he rose and stood looking into his hat. "It +seemed to me that I couldn't do less than come and say this, and I hope +you don't feel that I'm--I'm unwarranted in coming." + +"Oh, no," cried Cornelia, "it's very kind of you, and no one's to blame +but me. I don't suppose I should care; only"--she bit her lips hard, +and added deep in her throat--"I hated to have my mother---- But I am +rightfully punished." + +She meant for the Dickerson business, but Ludlow thought she meant for +her presumption, and his heart smote him in tender indignation as her +head sank and her face averted itself. It touched him keenly that she +should speak to him in that way of her mother, as if from an +instinctive sense of his loving and faithful sympathy; and then, +somehow he had her in his arms, there in Mrs. Montgomery's dim parlor; +he noted, as in a dream, that his hat had fallen and was rolling half +the length of it. + +"Oh, wait!" cried the girl. "What are you doing---- You don't know. +There is something I must tell you--that will make you hate me----" She +struggled to begin somehow, but she did not know where. + +"No," he said. "You needn't tell me anything. There isn't anything in +the world that could change me to you--nothing that you could tell me! +Sometime, if you must--if you wish; but not now. I've been too +miserable, and now I'm so happy." + +"But it's very foolish, it's silly! I tell you----" + +"Not now, not now!" He insisted. He made her cry, he made her laugh; +but he would not listen to her. She knew it was all wrong, that it was +romantic and fantastic, and she was afraid of it; but she was so happy +too, that she could not will it for the moment to be otherwise. She put +off the time that must come, or let him put it off for her, and gladly +lost herself in the bliss of the present. The fear, growing more and +more vague and formless, haunted her rapture, but even this ceased +before they parted, and left her at perfect peace in his love--their +love. + +He told her how much she could be to him, how she could supplement him +in every way where he was faltering and deficient, and he poured out +his heart in praises of her that made her brain reel. They talked of a +thousand things, touching them, and leaving them, and coming back, but +always keeping within the circle of their relation to themselves. They +flattered one another with the tireless and credulous egotism of love; +they tried to tell what they had thought of each other from the first +moment they met, and tried to make out that they neither had ever since +had a thought that was not the other's; they believed this. The +commonplaces of the passion ever since it began to refine itself from +the earliest savage impulse, seemed to have occurred to them for the +first time in the history of the race; they accused themselves each of +not being worthy of the other; they desired to be very good, and to +live for the highest things. + +They began this life by spending the whole afternoon together. When +some other people came into the parlor, they went out to walk. They +walked so long and far, that they came at last to the Park without +meaning to, and sat on a bench by a rock. Other people were doing the +same: nurses with baby-carriages before them; men smoking and reading; +elderly husbands with their elderly wives beside them, whom they +scarcely spoke to; it must have been a very common, idle thing, but to +them it had the importance, the distinction of something signal, done +for the first time. They staid there till it was almost dark, and then +they went and had tea together in the restaurant of one of the vast +hotels at the entrance of the Park. It was a very Philistine place, +with rich-looking, dull-looking people, travellers and sojourners, +dining about in its spacious splendor; but they got a table in a corner +and were as much alone there as in the Park; their happiness seemed to +push the world away from them wherever they were, and to leave them +free within a wide circle of their own. She poured the tea for them +both from the pot which the waiter set at her side; he looked on in +joyful wonder and content. "How natural it all is," he sighed. "I +should think you had always been doing that for me. But I suppose it is +only from the beginning of time!" + +She let him talk the most, because she was too glad to speak, and +because they had both the same thoughts, and it did not need two to +utter them. Now and then, he made her speak; he made her answer some +question; but it was like some question that she had asked herself. +From time to time they spoke of others besides themselves; of her +mother and the Burtons, of Charmian, of Mrs. Westley, of Wetmore; but +it was in relation to themselves; without this relation, nothing had +any meaning. + +When they parted after an evening prolonged till midnight in Mrs. +Montgomery's parlor, that which had been quiescent in Cornelia's soul, +stirred again, and she knew that she was wrong to let Ludlow go without +telling him of Dickerson. It was the folly of that agreement of theirs +about painting Charmian repeating itself in slightly different terms, +and with vastly deeper meaning, but to a like end of passive deceit, of +tacit untruth; his wish did not change it. She thought afterwards she +could not have let him go without telling him, if she had not believed +somehow that the parallel would complete itself, and that he would come +back, as he had done before, and help her undo what was false between +them; but perhaps this was not so; perhaps if she had been sure he +would not come back she would not have spoken; at any rate he did not +come back. + + + + +XXXV. + + +Cornelia was left to no better counsels than those of Charmian +Maybough, and these were disabled from what they might have been at +their best, by Cornelia's failure to be frank with her. If she was +wronging Charmian by making her a half-confidant only, she could not be +more open with her than with Ludlow, and she must let her think that +she had told him everything until she had told him everything. + +She did honestly try to do so, from time to time; she tried to lead him +on to ask her what it was he had kept her from telling him in that +first moment of their newly confessed love, when it would have been +easier than it could ever be again. She reproached him in her heart for +having prevented her then; it seemed as if he must know that she was +longing for his help to be frank; but she never could make that cry for +his help pass her lips where it trembled when she ought to have felt +safest with him. She began to be afraid of him, and he began to be +aware of her fear. + +He went home after parting with her that first night of their +engagement too glad of all that was, to feel any lack in it; but the +first thought in his mind when he woke the next morning was not that +perfect joy which the last before he fell asleep had been. His +discomfort was a formless emotion at first, and it was a moment before +it took shape in the mistake he had made, in forbidding Cornelia to +tell him what she had kept from him, merely because he knew that she +wished to keep it. He ought to have been strong enough for both, and he +had joined his weakness to hers from a fantastic impulse of generosity. +Now he perceived that the truth, slighted and postponed, must right +itself at the cost of the love which it should have been part of. He +began to be tormented with a curiosity to know what he could not ask, +or let her suspect that he even wished to know. Whether he was with her +or away from her, he always had that in his mind, and in the small +nether ache, inappeasable and incessant, he paid the penalty of his +romantic folly. He had to bear it and to hide it. Yet they both seemed +flawlessly happy to others, and in a sort they seemed so to themselves. +They waited for the chance that should make them really so. + +Cornelia kept on at her work, all the more devotedly because she was +now going home so soon and because she knew herself divided from it by +an interest which made art seem slight and poor, when she felt secure +in her happiness, and made it seem nothing when her heart misgave her. +She never could devolve upon that if love failed her; art could only be +a part of her love henceforward. She could go home and help her mother +with her work till she died, if love failed her, but she could never +draw another line. + +There was going to be an exhibition of Synthesis work at the close of +the Synthesis year, and there was to be a masquerade dance in the +presence of the pictures. Charmian was the heart and soul of the +masquerade, and she pushed its claims to the disadvantage of the +exhibition. Some of the young ladies who thought that art should have +the first place, went about saying that she was for the dance because +she could waltz and mask better than she could draw, and would rather +exhibit herself than her work, but it was a shame that she should make +Miss Saunders work for her the way she did, because Miss Saunders, +though she was so overrated, was really learning something, thanks to +the Synthesis atmosphere; and Charmian Maybough would never learn +anything. It was all very well for her to pretend that she scorned to +send anything to a school exhibition, but she was at least not such a +simpleton as to risk offering anything, for it would not be accepted. +That, they said, was the real secret of her devotion to the masquerade +and of her theory that the spirit of the Synthesis could be expressed +as well in making that beautiful, as in the exhibition. Charmian had +Cornelia come and stay with her the whole week before the great event, +and she spent it in a tumult of joyful excitement divided between the +tremendous interests of Ludlow's coming every night to see Cornelia, +and of having them both advise with her about her costume. Ludlow was +invited to the dance, and he was to be there so as to drive home with +her and Cornelia. + +In the mean time Charmian's harshest critics were not going to be +outdone, if they could help it, in any way; they not only contributed +to the exhibition, but four or five days beforehand they began to stay +away from the Synthesis, and get up their costumes for the masquerade. +Everything was to be very simple, and you could come in costume or not, +as you pleased, but the consensus was that people were coming in +costume, and you would not want to look odd. + +The hall for the dancing was created by taking down the board +partitions that separated three of the class-rooms; and hanging the +walls with cheese-cloth to hide the old stains and paint-marks, and +with pictures by the instructors. There was a piano for the music, and +around the wall rough benches were put, with rugs over them to save the +ladies' dresses. The effect was very pretty, with palettes on nails, +high up, and tall flowers in vases on brackets, and a life-study in +plaster by one of the girls, in a corner of the room. It all had the +charm of tasteful design yielding here and there to happy caprice; this +mingling of the ordered and the bizarre, expressed the spirit, at once +free and submissive, of the place. There had been a great deal of +trouble which at times seemed out of all keeping with the end to be +gained, but when it was all over, the trouble seemed nothing. The +exhibition was the best the Synthesis had ever made, and those who had +been left out of it were not the least of those in the masquerade; they +were by no means the worst dressed, or when they unmasked, the +plainest, and Charmian's favorite maxim that art was all one, was +verified in the costumes of several girls who could not draw any better +than she could. If they were not on the walls in one way neither were +they in another. After they had wandered heart-sick through the +different rooms, and found their sketches nowhere, they had their +compensation when the dancing began. + +The floor was filled early, and the scene gathered gayety and +brilliancy. It had the charm that the taste of the school could give in +the artistic effects, and its spirit of generous comradery found play +in the praises they gave each other's costumes, and each other's looks +when they were not in costume. It was a question whether Cornelia who +came as herself, was lovelier than Charmian, who was easily +recognizable as Cleopatra, with ophidian accessories in her dress that +suggested at once the serpent of old Nile, and a Moqui snake-dancer. +Cornelia looked more beautiful than ever; her engagement with Ludlow +had come out and she moved in the halo of poetic interest which +betrothal gives a girl with all other girls; it was thought an +inspiration that she should not have come in costume, but in her own +character. Ludlow's fitness to carry off such a prize was disputed; he +was one of the heroes of the Synthesis, and much was conceded to him +because he had more than once replaced the instructor in still-life +there. But there remained a misgiving with some whether Cornelia was +right in giving up her art for him; whether she were not recreant to +the Synthesis in doing that; the doubt, freshly raised by her beauty, +was not appeased till Charmian met it with the assertion that Cornelia +was not going to give up her art at all, but after her marriage was +coming back to study and paint with Ludlow. + +Charmian bore her honors graciously, both as the friend of the new +fiancee, and as the most successful mask of the evening. In her pride +and joy, she set the example of looking out for girls who were not +having a good time, and helping them to have one with the men of her +own too constant following, and with those who stood about, wanting the +wish or the courage to attach themselves to any one. In the excitement +she did not miss Cornelia, or notice whether Ludlow had come yet. When +she did think of her it was to fancy that she was off somewhere with +him, and did not want to be looked up. Before the high moment when one +of the instructors appeared, and chose a partner fur the Virginia Reel, +Charmian had fused all the faltering and reluctant temperaments in the +warmth of her amiability. Nobody ever denied her good nature, in fact, +whatever else they denied her, and there were none who begrudged her +its reward at last. She was last on the floor, when the orchestra, +having played as long as it had bargained to, refused to play any +longer, and the dance came to an end. She then realized that it was +after twelve, and she remembered Cornelia. She rushed down into the +dressing-room, and found her sitting there alone, bonneted and wrapped +for the street. There was something suddenly strange and fateful about +it all to Charmian. + +"Cornelia!" she entreated. "What is the matter? What has become of Mr. +Ludlow? Hasn't he been here to-night?" + +Cornelia shook her head, and made a hoarse murmur in her throat, as if +she wished to speak and could not. There seemed to be some sort of +weight upon her, so that she could not rise, but Charmian swiftly made +her own changes of toilet necessary for the street, and got Cornelia +out of doors and into her coupe which was waiting for them, before the +others descended from the dancing-room, where the men staid to help the +janitor put out the lights. As the carriage whirled them away, they +could hear the gay cries and laughter of the first of the revellers who +came out into the night after them. + + + + +XXXVI. + + +The solemn man-servant, who was now also sleepy, but who saved the +respect due the young ladies by putting his hand over a yawn when he +let them in, brought Cornelia a letter which he seemed to have been +keeping on his professional salver. "A letter for you, miss. It came +about an hour after you went out. The messenger said he wasn't to wait +for an answer, and Mrs. Maybough thought she needn't send it to you at +the Synthesis. She wanted me to tell you, miss." + +"Oh, it is all right, thank you," said Cornelia, with a tremor which +she could not repress at the sight of Ludlow's handwriting. + +Charmian put her arm round her. "Come into the studio, dear. You can +answer it there, if you want to, at once." + +"Well," said Cornelia, passively. + +Charmian found her sitting with the letter in her lap, as if she had +not moved from her posture while she had been away exchanging her +Ptolemaic travesty for the ease of a long silken morning gown of Nile +green. She came back buttoning it at her throat, when she gave a start +of high tragic satisfaction at something stonily rigid in Cornelia's +attitude, but she kept to herself both her satisfaction and the +poignant sympathy she felt at the same time, and sank noiselessly into +a chair by the fireless hearth. + +After a moment Cornelia stirred and asked, "Do you want to see it, +Charmian?" + +"Do you want me to?" Charmian asked back, with her heart in her throat, +lest the question should make Cornelia change her mind. + +There were two lines from Ludlow, unsigned: "I have received the +enclosed letter, which I think you should see before I see you again." +His note enclosed a letter from Dickerson to Ludlow, which ran: + + "Although you are a stranger to me, I feel an old friend's interest + in your engagement to Miss Cornelia Saunders, of which I have just + been informed. I can fully endorse your good taste. Was once + engaged to the young lady myself some years since, and have been in + correspondence with her up to a very recent date. Would call and + offer my well wishes in person, but am unexpectedly called away on + business. Presume Miss Saunders has told you of our little affair, + so will not enlarge upon the facts. Please give her my best + regards and congratulations. + + "Yours respect'ly, + + "J. B. DICKERSON." + +Charmian let the papers fall to her lap, and looked at Cornelia who +stared blankly, helplessly back at her. "What a hateful, spiteful +little cad!" she began, and she enlarged at length upon Mr. Dickerson's +character and behavior. She arrested herself in this pleasure, and +said, "But I don't understand why Mr. Ludlow should have staid away +this evening on account of his letter, or why he should have sent it to +you, if he knew about it already. It seems to me----" + +"He didn't know about it," said Cornelia. "I haven't told him yet." + +"Why, Cornelia!" + +The reproachful superiority in Charmian's tone was bitter to Cornelia, +but she did not even attempt to resent it. She said meekly, "I did try +to tell him. I wanted to tell him the very first thing, but he wouldn't +let me, then; and then--I couldn't." + +Charmian's superiority melted into sympathy: "Of course," she said. + +"And now, I never can tell him," Cornelia desperately concluded. + +"Never!" Charmian assented. The gleam of common-sense which had visited +her for an instant, was lost in the lime-light of romance, which her +fancy cast upon the situation. "And what are you going to do?" she +asked, enraptured by its hopeless gloom. + +"Nothing. What can I do?" + +"No. You can do nothing." She started, as with a sudden inspiration. +"Why, look here, Cornelia! Why wouldn't this do?" + +She stopped so long that Cornelia asked, somewhat crossly, "Well?" + +"I don't know whether I'd better tell you. But I know it would be the +very thing. Do you want me to tell you?" + +"Oh, it makes no difference," said Cornelia, hopelessly. + +Charmian went on tentatively, "Why, it's this. I've often heard of such +things: Me to pretend that _I_ wrote this horrid Dickerson letter, and +there isn't any such person; but I did it just for a joke, or wanted to +break off the engagement because I couldn't bear to give you up. Don't +you see? It's like lots of things on the stage, and I've read of them, +I'd be perfectly willing to sacrifice myself in such a cause, and I +should have to, for after I said I had done such a thing as that, he +would never let you speak to me again, or look at me, even. But I +should die happy----" She stopped, frozen to silence, by the scornful +rejection in Cornelia's look. "Oh, no, no! It wouldn't do! I see it +wouldn't! Don't speak! But there's nothing else left, that I know of." +She added, by another inspiration, "Or, yes! Now--_now_--we can live +for each other, Cornelia. You will outlive this. You will be terribly +changed, of course; and perhaps your health may be affected; but I +shall always be with you from this on. I have loved you more truly than +he ever did, if he can throw you over for a little thing like that. If +I were a man I should exult to ignore such a thing. Oh, if men could +only be what girls would be if they were men! But now you must begin to +forget him from this instant--to put him out of your mind--your life." + +To further this end Charmian talked of Ludlow for a long time, and +entered upon a close examination of his good and bad qualities; his +probable motives for now behaving as he was doing, and the influence of +the present tragedy upon his future as a painter. It would either +destroy him or it would be the fire out of which he would rise a +master; he would degenerate into a heartless worldling, which he might +very well do, for he was fond of society, or he might become a gloomy +recluse, and produce pictures which the multitude would never know were +painted with tears and blood. "Of course, I don't mean literally; the +idea is rather disgusting; but you know what I mean, Cornelia. He may +commit suicide, like that French painter, Robert; but he doesn't seem +one of that kind, exactly; he's much more likely to abandon art and +become an art-critic. Yes, it may make an art-critic of him." + +Cornelia sat in a heavy muse, hearing and not hearing what she said. +Charmian bustled about, and made a fire of lightwood, and then kindled +her spirit lamp, and made tea, which she brought to Cornelia. "We may +as well take it," she said. "We shall not sleep to-night anyway. What a +strange ending to our happy evening. It's perfectly Hawthornesque. +Don't you think it's like the _Marble Faun_, somehow? I believe you +will rise to a higher life through this trouble, Cornelia, just as +Donatello did through his crime. I can arrange it with mamma to be with +you; and if I can't I shall just simply abandon her, and we will take a +little flat like two newspaper girls that I heard of, and live +together. We will get one down-town, on the East Side." + +Cornelia look the tea and drank it, but she could not speak. It would +have been easier to bear if she had only had herself alone to blame, +but mixed with her shame, and with her pity for him, was a sense of his +want of wisdom in refusing to let her speak at once, when she wanted to +tell him all about Dickerson. That was her instinct; she had been +right, and he wrong; she might be to blame for everything since, but he +was to blame then and for that. Now it was all wrong, and past undoing. +She tried, in the reveries running along with what she was hearing of +Charmian's talk, every way of undoing it that she could imagine: she +wrote to Ludlow; she sent for him; she went to him; but it was all +impossible. She did not wish to undo the wrong that she might have back +her dream of happiness again; she had been willing to be less than +true, and she could wish him to know that she hated herself for that. + +It went on and on, in her brain; there was no end to it; no way to undo +the snarl that life had tangled itself up into. She looked at the clock +on the mantel, and saw that it was three o'clock. "Why don't you go to +bed?" she asked Charmian. + +"I shall not go to bed, I shall never go to bed," said Charmian darkly. +She added, "If you'll come with me, I will." + +"I can't," said Cornelia, with a sort of dry anguish. She rose from +where she had been sitting motionless so long. "Let me lie down on that +couch of yours, there. I'm tired to death." + +She went toward the alcove curtained off from the studio, and Charmian +put her arm round her to stay her and help. + +"Don't. I can get along perfectly well." + +"I will lie down here with you," said Charmian. "You won't mind?" + +"No, I shall like to have you." + +Cornelia shivered as she sat down on the edge of this divan, and +Charmian ran back to put another stick of lightwood on the fire, and +turn the gas down to a blue flame. She pulled down rugs and draperies, +and dragged them toward the alcove for covering. "Oh, how different it +is from the way I always supposed it would be when I expected to sleep +here!" She sank her voice to a ghostly whisper, and yawned. "Now you go +to sleep, Cornelia; but if you want anything I shall be watching here +beside you, and you must ask me. Would you like anything now? An olive, +or a--cracker?" + +"Nothing," said Cornelia, tumbling wearily upon the couch. + +Charmian surveyed her white, drawn face with profound appreciation. +Then she stretched herself at her side, and in a little while Cornelia +knew by her long, regular breathing that she had found relief from the +stress of sympathy in sleep. + + + + +XXXVII. + + +The cold north-light of the studio showed that it was broad day when a +tap at the door roused Cornelia from a thin drowse she had fallen into +at dawn. She stirred, and Charmian threw herself from the couch to her +feet. "Don't move--I'll get it--let me----" She tossed back the black +mane that fell over her eyes and stared about her. "What--what is it? +Have I been asleep? Oh, I never can forgive myself!" + +The tapping at the door began again, and she ran to open it. The +inexorable housemaid was there; she said that Mrs. Maybough was +frightened at her not finding either of the young ladies in their +rooms, and had sent her to see if they were in the studio. + +"Yes, tell her we are, please; we fell asleep on the couch, please; +and, Norah! we want our breakfast here. We are very--busy, and we can't +be disturbed." + +She twisted her hair into a loose knot, and cowered over the hearth, +where she kindled some pieces of lightwood, and then sat huddled before +it, watching the murky roll of its flames, till the maid came back with +the tray. Charmian wished to bring Cornelia a cup of coffee where she +still lay, so crushed with the despair that had rolled back upon her +with the first consciousness that she thought she never could rise +again. But as the aroma of the coffee that Charmian poured out stole to +her, she found strength to lift herself on her elbow, and say, "No, I +will take it there with you." + +The maid had put the tray on the low table where Charmian usually +served tea, but in spite of all the poignant associations of this piece +of furniture with happier times, the two girls ate hungrily of the +omelette and the Vienna rolls; and by the time the maid had put the +studio in order, and beaten up the cushions of the couch into their +formal shape, they had cleared the tray, and she took it away with her +quite empty. Even in the house of mourning, and perhaps there more than +elsewhere, the cravings of the animal, which hungers and thirsts on, +whatever happens, satisfy themselves, while the spirit faints and +despairs. + +Perhaps if Cornelia had thought of it she would not have chosen to +starve to no visible end, but she did not think, and she ate ravenously +as long as there was anything left, and when she had eaten, she felt so +much stronger in heart and clearer in mind, that after the maid had +gone she began, "Charmian, I am going home, at once, and you mustn't +try to stop me; I mean to Mrs. Montgomery's. I want to write to Mr. +Ludlow. I shall tell him it is all true." + +"Cornelia!" + +"Yes; what else could I tell him?" + +"Oh, you must! But must you write it?" + +"Yes; I never can see him again, and I won't let him think that I want +to, or to have him forgive me. He was to blame, but I was the most, for +he might have thought it was just some little thing, and I knew what it +was, and that it was something he ought to know at once. He will always +believe now that it was worse than it is, if anything can be worse. I +shall tell him that after I had seen Mr. Dickerson again, and knew just +what a--a dreadful thing he was, I tolerated him, and lured him on----" + +"You _didn't_ lure him on, and I won't let you say such a thing, +Cornelia Saunders," Charmian protested. "You always did profess to have +sense, and that isn't sense." + +"I never had any sense," said Cornelia, "I can see that now. I have +been a perfect fool from the beginning." + +"You may have been a fool," said Charmian, judicially, "but you have +not been false, and I am not going to let you say so. If you don't +promise not to, I will tell Mr. Ludlow myself that you were always +perfectly true, and you couldn't help being true, any more than a--a +broomstick, or anything else that is perpendicular. Now, will you +promise?" + +"I will tell him just how everything was, and he can judge. But what +difference? It's all over, and I wouldn't help it if I could." + +"Yes, I know that," said Charmian, "but that's all the more reason why +you shouldn't go and say more than there is. He can't think, even if +you're just to yourself, that you want to--wheedle." + +"Wheedle!" cried Cornelia. + +"Well, not wheedle, exactly, but what would _be_ wheedling in some +other girl--in me," said Charmian, offering herself up. "Will you let +me see the letter before you send it? I do believe I've got more sense +than you have about such things, this minute." + +"You wouldn't have any to brag of, even then," said Cornelia with +gloomy meekness, and unconscious sarcasm. "Yes, I will let you see the +letter." + +"Well, then, you needn't go home to write it; you can write in your +room here. I want to see that letter, and I sha'n't let it go if +there's the least thing wrong in it." She jumped up gayly, as if this +were the happiest possible solution of the whole difficulty, and began +to push Cornelia out of the room. "Now go, and after you've put +yourself in shape, and got your hair done, you'll have some +self-respect. I suppose you won't begin to write till you're all as +spick and span as if you were going to receive a call from him. I'm +such a slouch that I should just sit down and write, looking every +which-way--but I know you can't." + +She came back to the studio an hour later, and waited impatiently for +Cornelia's appearance. She was so long coming that Charmian opened the +door, to go and ask her some question, so as to get her to say that she +would be with her in a moment, even if she didn't come, and almost ran +against the man-servant, who was bringing her a card. She gave a little +nervous shriek, and caught it from his salver. + +"For Miss Saunders, miss," he said, in respectful deprecation of her +precipitate behavior. + +"Yes, yes; it's all right. Say that she--_is in the studio_." Charmian +spoke in thick gasps. The card was Ludlow's; and between the man's +going and Ludlow's coming, she experienced a succession of sensations +which were, perhaps, the most heroically perfect of any in a career so +much devoted to the emotions. She did not stop to inquire what she +should do after she got Ludlow there, or to ask herself what he was +coming for, a little after nine o'clock in the morning; she simply +waited his approach in an abandon which exhausted the capabilities of +the situation, and left her rather limp and languid when he did appear. +If it had been her own affair she could not have entered into it with +more zeal, more impassioned interest. So far as she reasoned her action +at all, it was intended to keep Ludlow, after she got him there, till +Cornelia should come, for she argued that if she should go for her +Cornelia would suspect something, and she would not come at all. + + + + +XXXVIII. + + +When Ludlow found Charmian and not Cornelia waiting for him, he managed +to get through the formalities of greeting decently, but he had an +intensity which he had the effect of not allowing to relax. He sat down +with visible self-constraint when Charmian invited him to do so. + +"Miss Saunders has just gone to her room; she'll be back in a moment." +She added, with wild joy in a fact which veiled the truth, "She is +writing a note." + +"Oh!" said Ludlow, and he was so clearly able not to say anything more +that Charmian instantly soared over him in smooth self-possession. "We +were so sorry not to see you last night, Mr. Ludlow. It was a perfect +success, except your not coming, of course." + +"Thank you," said Ludlow, "I was--I couldn't come--at the last moment." + +"Yes, I understood you intended to come. I do wish you could have seen +Miss Saunders! I don't believe she ever looked lovelier. I wanted her +to go in costume, you know, but she wouldn't, and in fact when I saw +her, I saw that she needn't. She doesn't have to eke herself out, as +some people do." + +Ludlow was aware of the opening for a civil speech, but he was quite +helpless to use it. He stared blankly at Charmian, who went on: + +"And then, Cornelia is so perfectly truthful, you know, so sincere, +that any sort of disguise would have been out of character with her, +and I'm glad she went simply as herself. We were up so late talking, +that we slept till I don't know when, this morning. I forgot to wind my +clock. I suppose it's very late." + +"No," said Ludlow, "it's so very early that I ought to apologize for +coming, I suppose. But I wished to see Miss Saunders----" He stopped, +feeling that he had given too rude a hint. + +Charmian did not take it amiss. "Oh, Cornelia is usually up at all +sorts of unnatural hours of the day. I expected when she came here to +spend the week with me, we should have some fun, sitting up and +talking, but last night is the only time we have had a real good talk, +and I suppose that was because we were so excited that even Cornelia +couldn't go to sleep at once. I do wish you could have seen some of the +costumes, Mr. Ludlow!" + +Ludlow began to wonder whether Cornelia had got his letter, or whether, +if she had got it, she had kept the matter so carefully from Charmian +that she had not suspected anything was wrong. Or, what was more +likely, had not Cornelia cared? Was she glad to be released, and had +she joyfully hailed his letter and its enclosure as a means of escape? +His brain reeled with these doubts, which were the next moment relieved +with the crazy hope that if his letter had not yet been delivered, he +might recover it, and present the affair in the shape he had now come +to give it. He believed that Charmian must have some motive for what +she was doing and saying beyond the hospitable purpose of amusing him +till Cornelia should appear. We always think that other people have +distinct motives, but for the most part in our intercourse with one +another we are really as superficially intentioned, when we are +intentioned at all, as Charmian was in wishing to get what sensation +she could out of the dramatic situation by hovering darkly over it, and +playing perilously about its circumference. She divined that he was not +there to deepen its tragical tendency at least, and she continued +without well knowing what she was going to say next: "Yes, I think that +the real reason why Cornelia wouldn't go in costume was that she felt +that it was a kind of subterfuge. She keeps me in a perfect twitter of +self-reproach. I tell her I would rather have the conscience of the +worst kind of person than hers; I could get along with it a great deal +easier. Don't you think you could, Mr. Ludlow?" + +"Yes, yes," said Ludlow aimlessly. He rose up, and pretended a +curiosity about a sketch on the wall; he could not endure to sit still. + +"Won't you have a cup of tea?" asked Charmian. "Cornelia and I had some +last night, and----" + +"No, thank you," said Ludlow. + +"Do let me ring for some coffee, then?" + +"No, I have just breakfasted--that is, I have breakfasted----" + +"Why, were _you_ up early, too?" said Charmian, with what seemed to +Ludlow a supernatural shrewdness. "It's perfectly telepathic! The +Psychical Research ought to have it. It would be such fun if we could +get together and compare our reasons for waking so early. But Cornelia +and I didn't know just when we did wake, and I suppose the Psychical +Research wouldn't care for it without. She seems to be writing a pretty +long note, or a pretty hard one!" Ludlow lifted his downcast eyes, and +gave her a look that was ghastly. "Did you look at your watch?" she +asked. + +"Look at my watch?" he returned in a daze. + +"When you woke, that is." + +"Oh!" he groaned. + +"Because----" + +Charmian suddenly stopped and ran to the door, which Cornelia opened +before she could reach it. + +Cornelia gave her a letter. "See if this will do," she said +spiritlessly, and Charmian caught it from her hand. + +"Yes, yes, I'll read it," she said, as she slipped out of the door and +shut Cornelia in. + +Cornelia saw Ludlow, and made an instinctive movement of flight. + +"For pity's sake, don't go!" he implored. + +"I didn't know you were here," she said, the same dejection in her +tone. + +"No, they told me you were here; but let me stay long enough to tell +you---- That abominable letter--you ought never to have known that it +existed. I don't expect you to forgive me; I don't ask you; but I am so +ashamed; and I would do anything if I could recall--undo--Cornelia! +_Isn't_ there any way of atoning for it? Come! I don't believe a word +of that scoundrel's. I don't know what his motive was, and I don't +care. Let it all be as if nothing of the kind had ever happened. +Dearest, don't speak of it, and I never will!" + +Cornelia was tempted. She could see how he had wrought himself up to +this pitch, and she believed that he would keep his word; we believe +such miracles of those we love, before life has taught us that love +cannot make nature err against itself. In his absence the duty she had +to do was hard; in his presence it seemed impossible, now when he asked +her not to do it. She had not expected ever to see him again, or to be +tried in this way. She had just written it all to him, but she must +speak it now. She had been weak, and had brought on herself the worst +she had to tell, and should she be false, even though he wished it, and +not tell? + +She forced the words out in a voice that hardly seemed her own at +first. + +"No, we made a mistake; you did, and I did, too. There was +something--something--I wanted to tell you at first, but you wouldn't +let me, and I was glad you wouldn't; but it was all wrong, and now I +have got to tell you, when everything is over, and it can never do any +good." She gave a dry sob, and cast upon him a look of keen reproach, +which he knew he deserved. "I _was_ engaged to him once. Or," she +added, as if she could not bear to see him blench, "he could think so. +It was the year after you were in Pymantoning." + +She went on and told him everything. She did not spare herself any fact +that she thought he ought to know, and as she detailed the squalid +history, it seemed to her far worse than it had ever been in her own +thoughts of it. + +He listened patiently, and at the end he asked, "Is that all?" + +"All?" + +"Yes. I wanted to know just how much you have to forgive me." She +looked at him stupefied. "Yes, I ought to have let you tell me all this +before, when you wanted to, at first. But I have been a romantic fool, +and I have made you suffer for my folly. I have left you to think, all +the time, that I might care for this; that I might not know that you +were yourself through it all, or that I could care for you any the less +because of it, when it only makes you dearer to me." + +"No!" she said for all protest, and he understood. + +"Oh, I don't mean that you were always right in it, or always wise; but +I can truly say it makes no difference with me except to make you +dearer. If I had always had more sense than I had, you would not have +to blame yourself for the only wrong or unwise thing you have done, and +I am really to blame for that." + +She knew that he meant her having taken refuge from his apparent +indifference in Dickerson, when she fell below her ideal of herself. +This was what she had thought at the time; it was the thought with +which she had justified herself then, and she could not deny it now. +She loved him for taking her blame away, and she said to strengthen +herself for her doom, "Well, it is all over!" + +"No," he said, "why is it over? Don't be worse than I was. Let us be +reasonable about it! Why shouldn't we talk of it as if we were other +people? Do you mean it is all over because you think I must be troubled +by what you've told me, or because you can't forgive me for not letting +you tell me before?" + +"You know which!" she said. + +"Well, then, what should you think of some other man if he could care +for such a thing, when some other girl had told it him of herself? You +would think him very unjust and----" + +"But it isn't some other man; it isn't some other girl!" + +"No, I'm glad it isn't. But can't we reason about it as if it were?" + +"No, we can't. It would be--wicked." + +"It would be wicked not to. Do you think you ought to break our +engagement because I didn't let you tell me this at first?" + +Cornelia could not say that she did; she could hardly say, "I don't +know." + +Ludlow assumed that she had said more. "Then if you don't think you +ought to do it for that, do you think you ought to do it for nothing?" + +"For nothing?" Cornelia asked herself. Was there really nothing else, +then? She stood looking at him, as if she were asking him that aloud. +He was not so far off as when they began to talk, just after they had +risen, and now he suddenly came much nearer still. + +"Are you going to drive me from you because I don't care for all this?" + +"You ought to care," she persisted. + +"But if I don't? If I can't? Then what is the reason you won't let it +all be as if nothing had happened? Ah, I see! You can't forgive me for +sending you his letter! Well, I deserve to be punished for that!" + +"No; I should have despised you if you hadn't----" + +"Well?" + +She was silent, looking at the floor. He put his arm round her, and +pushed her head down on his shoulder. "Oh, how silly!" she said, with +lips muted against his own. + + + + +XXXIX. + + +Cornelia and Ludlow were married at Pymantoning in the latter part of +June, and he spent the summer there, working at a picture which he was +going to exhibit in the fall. At the same time he worked at a good many +other pictures, and he helped Cornelia with the things she was trying. +He painted passages and incidents in her pictures, sometimes +illustratively, and sometimes for the pleasure of having their lives +blended in their work, and he tried to see how nearly he could lose his +work in hers. He pretended that he learned more than he taught in the +process, and that he felt in her efforts a determining force, a clear +sense of what she wanted to do, that gave positive form and direction +to what was vague and speculative in himself. He was strenuous that she +should not, in the slightest degree, lapse from her ideal and purpose, +or should cease to be an artist in becoming a wife. He contended that +there was no real need of that, and though it had happened in most of +the many cases where artists had married artists, he held that it had +happened through the man's selfishness and thoughtlessness, and not +through the conditions. He was resolved that Cornelia should not lose +faith in herself from want of his appreciation, or from her own +over-valuation of his greater skill and school; and he could prove to +any one who listened that she had the rarer gift. He did not persuade +her, with all his reasons, but her mother faithfully believed him. It +had never seemed surprising to her that Cornelia should win a man like +Ludlow; she saw no reason why Cornelia should not; and she could +readily accept the notion of Cornelia's superiority when he advanced +it. She was not arrogant about it; she was simply and entirely +satisfied; and she was every moment so content with Cornelia's husband +that Cornelia herself had to be a little critical of him in +self-defence. She called him a dreamer and theorist; she ran him down +to the Burtons, and said he would never come to anything, because +artists who talked well never painted so well. She allowed that he +talked divinely, and it would not have been safe for Mrs. Burton to +agree with her otherwise; but Mrs. Burton was far too wise a woman to +do so. She did not, perhaps, ride so high a horse as Mrs. Saunders in +her praises of Ludlow, but it would have been as impossible to unseat +her. She regarded herself as somehow the architect of Cornelia's +happiness in having discovered Ludlow and believed in him long before +Cornelia met him, and she could easily see that if he had not come out +to visit Burton, that first time, they would never have met at all. +Mrs. Saunders could joyfully admit this without in the least +relinquishing her own belief, so inarticulate that it was merely part +of her personal consciousness, that this happiness was of as remote an +origin as the foundations of the world. She could see, now, that +nothing else could have been intended from the beginning, but she did +not fail at the same time to credit herself with forethought and wisdom +in bracing Cornelia against the overtures of Dickerson when he +reappeared in her life. Burton, of course, advanced no claim to +recognition in the affair. He enjoyed every moment of Ludlow's stay in +Pymantoning, and gave his work a great deal of humorous attention and +gratuitous criticism, especially the picture he was chiefly engaged +upon. This, when it was shown at the County Fair, where Ludlow chose to +enter it, before he took it back to Now York with him in the fall, did +not keep the crowd away from the trotting-matches, and it did not take +either the first or the second premium. In fact, if the critics of the +metropolis were right in their judgment of it when it appeared later in +the Academy, it did not deserve either of them. They said that it was +an offence to those who had hoped better things of the painter as time +went on with him, and who would now find themselves snubbed by this +return to his worst manner. Here, they said, was his palette again, +with a tacit invitation to the public to make what it liked of the +colors, as children did with the embers on the hearth, or the frost on +the window. You paid your money and you took your choice as to what Mr. +Ludlow meant by this extraordinary performance, if he really meant +anything at all. + +As far as it could be made out with the naked eye, it represented a +clump of hollyhocks, with a slim, shadowy and uncertain young girl +among them, and the painter had apparently wished to suggest a family, +resemblance among them all. To this end he had emphasized some facts of +the girl's dress, accessories to his purpose, the petal-edged ruffle of +her crimson silk waist, the flower-like flare of her red hat, and its +finials of knotted ribbon; and in the hollyhocks he had recognized a +girlishness of bearing, which he evidently hoped would appeal to a +fantastic sympathy in the spectator. The piece was called "Hollyhocks"; +it might equally well be called "Girls," though when you had called it +one or the other, it would be hard to say just what you were to do +about it, especially with the impression curiously left by the picture +that whether it was a group of girls, or a clump of hollyhocks, they +were not in very good humor. The moment chosen, if one might judge from +some suggestions of light, was that just before the breaking of a +thunderstorm; the girl, if it was a girl, had flashed into sight round +the corner of the house where the hollyhocks, if they were hollyhocks, +were blowing outward in the first gust of the storm. It could not be +denied that there was something fine in the wild toss and pull of the +flowers, with the abandon of the storm in them; this was the best thing +in the piece. It was probably intended to express a moment of electric +passion; but there was something so forced, and at the same time so +ineffectual in the execution of the feebly fantastic design, that it +became the duty of impartial criticism, to advise Mr. Ludlow, if he +must continue to paint at all, to paint either girls or flowers, but +not both at once, or both together, or convertibly. + +Ludlow did not mind these criticisms much, being pretty well used to +that kind of thing, and feeling secure of his public in any event; but +Cornelia was deeply vexed. She knew that it must be evident to those +who knew her and knew him that she was the girl and she was the +hollyhocks, and though the origin of the picture was forever hid in the +memories of their first meeting, she was aware of a measure of justice +in the censure that condemned it for obscurity. She had not wished him +to show it, but here, as often elsewhere, she found him helpless to +yield to her, even though he confessed that she was right. He did not +try to justify himself, and he did not explain himself very clearly. "I +don't know how it is about one's work, exactly. Up to a certain point +you are master over it, and it seems to belong absolutely to you; but +beyond that it is its own master and does what it pleases with itself. +Of course I could have kept from showing that picture, and yet--I +must." + +"Well, at least, then, you can keep from selling it," said Cornelia. "I +want it; give it to me." + +"My dear, I will buy it for you. Mrs. Maybough became the owner of the +picture, yesterday, but I will offer her an advance on the price she +paid." + +Cornelia now thought she was really angry with him for the first time +since their marriage. She would not speak at once, but when she did +speak, it was to say, "No, let her keep it. I know Charmian made her +buy it and I wouldn't like to take it from her. She has so much +imagination that maybe she can see some meaning in it and it will +always be such a pleasure to her to explain it even if she can't." + +Charmian made the Ludlows a Bohemian dinner as soon as the people whom +she wanted got back to town. She said it was a Bohemian dinner, and she +asked artists, mostly; but of course she had the Westleys and their +friend Mrs. Rangeley. There were several of the Synthesis girls, who +said the Synthesis would never be itself again without Cornelia, and +there were some of the students, nice fellows, whom Charmian had liked; +there were, of course, the Wetmores. Ludlow's picture was in evidence +in a place of honor, especially created for it, and Wetmore said, when +they sat down at dinner, "Well, Ludlow, all _this_ company can tell +where you got your hollyhocks." Cornelia turned the color of the +reddest in the picture, and Wetmore recognized her consciousness with +the added remark, "Oh, you'll be in all his imaginative pictures, now, +Mrs. Ludlow. That's the fate of the wife of an imaginative painter. But +you really must get him to keep you out of his portraits." + +Charmian checked herself in a wild laugh, and sent Cornelia a look of +fond and proud intelligence, which Mrs. Rangeley tapped, as it were, on +its way up the length of the table. "O Mrs. Ludlow!" she entreated. +"What is it? I hope it isn't professional envy! Is he afraid of Mr. +Ludlow becoming too popular?" + +Ludlow answered for his wife, "Mrs. Rangeley, that was worthy even of +you," and he boldly kissed his hand to her. + +The dinner was remembered for several weeks as one of the pleasantest +people had ever been at, and it established Mrs. Maybough in such +social acceptance that she was asked to the first of the Westley +dinners, where swells prevailed, and where she was as null as any of +them. But although Charmian was apparently radiant the whole evening, +and would hardly let Cornelia go away at the end, she wanted her to +stay so and talk it over, she had a girl's perverseness in not +admitting the perfection of the occasion to Mrs. Maybough, when she +said, "Well, my dear, I hope your dinner was Bohemian enough for you." + +"Bohemian!" she retorted. "It wasn't Bohemian at all. You oughtn't to +have taken the ladies away at coffee. They ought to have stayed and had +cigarettes with the gentlemen." + +"My dear, you know that the mere smell of tobacco makes you sick!" + +"No matter, I should--if I could only have seen Cornelia Ludlow +smoking--I should have been willing to _die_. And now--now, I'm afraid +she's going to be perfectly respectable!" + + + * * * * * + + +Harper's Magazine + +1850 ONE HUNDREDTH VOLUME 1900 + . . . 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