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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/3105-0.txt b/3105-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..565fa3e --- /dev/null +++ b/3105-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9491 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of That Fortune, by Charles Dudley Warner + +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: That Fortune + +Author: Charles Dudley Warner + +Release Date: August 20, 2016 [EBook #3105] +Last Updated: February 24, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THAT FORTUNE *** + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +THAT FORTUNE + +By Charles Dudley Warner + + + + +I + +On a summer day, long gone among the summer days that come but to go, +a lad of twelve years was idly and recklessly swinging in the top of a +tall hickory, the advance picket of a mountain forest. The tree was on +the edge of a steep declivity of rocky pasture-land that fell rapidly +down to the stately chestnuts, to the orchard, to the cornfields in +the narrow valley, and the maples on the bank of the amber river, whose +loud, unceasing murmur came to the lad on his aerial perch like the +voice of some tradition of nature that he could not understand. + +He had climbed to the topmost branch of the lithe and tough tree in +order to take the full swing of this free creature in its sport with the +western wind. There was something exhilarating in this elemental battle +of the forces that urge and the forces that resist, and the harder +the wind blew, and the wider circles he took in the free air, the more +stirred the boy was in the spring of his life. Nature was taking him +by the hand, and it might be that in that moment ambition was born to +achieve for himself, to conquer. + +If you had asked him why he was there, he would very likely have said, +“To see the world.” It was a world worth seeing. The prospect might +be limited to a dull eye, but not to this lad, who loved to climb this +height, in order to be with himself and indulge the dreams of youth. Any +pretense would suffice for taking this hour of freedom: to hunt for +the spicy checker-berries and the pungent sassafras; to aggravate the +woodchucks, who made their homes in mysterious passages in this gravelly +hillside; to get a nosegay of columbine for the girl who spelled against +him in school and was his gentle comrade morning and evening along +the river road where grew the sweet-flag and the snap-dragon and the +barberry bush; to make friends with the elegant gray squirrel and the +lively red squirrel and the comical chipmunk, who were not much afraid +of this unarmed naturalist. They may have recognized their kinship to +him, for he could climb like any squirrel, and not one of them could +have clung more securely to this bough where he was swinging, rejoicing +in the strength of his lithe, compact little body. When he shouted in +pure enjoyment of life, they chattered in reply, and eyed him with a +primeval curiosity that had no fear in it. This lad in short trousers, +torn shirt, and a frayed straw hat above his mobile and cheerful face, +might be only another sort of animal, a lover like themselves of the +beech-nut and the hickory-nut. + +It was a gay world up here among the tossing branches. Across the river, +on the first terrace of the hill, were weather-beaten farmhouses, amid +apple orchards and cornfields. Above these rose the wooded dome of Mount +Peak, a thousand feet above the river, and beyond that to the left +the road wound up, through the scriptural land of Bozrah, to high and +lonesome towns on a plateau stretching to unknown regions in the south. +There was no bar to the imagination in that direction. What a gracious +valley, what graceful slopes, what a mass of color bathing this lovely +summer landscape! Down from the west, through hills that crowded on +either side to divert it from its course, ran the sparkling Deerfield, +from among the springs and trout streams of the Hoosac, merrily going on +to the great Connecticut. Along the stream was the ancient highway, or +lowway, where in days before the railway came the stage-coach and the +big transport-wagons used to sway and rattle along on their adventurous +voyage from the gate of the Sea at Boston to the gate of the West at +Albany. + +Below, where the river spread wide among the rocks in shallows, or +eddies in deep, dark pools, was the ancient, long, covered, wooden +bridge, striding diagonally from rock to rock on stone columns, a +dusky tunnel through the air, a passage of gloom flecked with glints of +sunlight, that struggled in crosscurrents through the interstices of +the boards, and set dancing the motes and the dust in a golden haze, a +stuffy passage with odors a century old--who does not know the pungent +smell of an old bridge?--a structure that groaned in all its big timbers +when a wagon invaded it. And then below the bridge the lad could see the +historic meadow, which was a cornfield in the eighteenth century, where +Captain Moses Rice and Phineas Arms came suddenly one summer day to +the end of their planting and hoeing. The house at the foot of the hill +where the boy was cultivating his imagination had been built by Captain +Rice, and in the family burying-ground in the orchard above it lay the +body of this mighty militia-man, and beside him that of Phineas Arms, +and on the headstone of each the legend familiar at that period of our +national life, “Killed by the Indians.” Happy Phineas Arms, at the age +of seventeen to exchange in a moment the tedium of the cornfield for +immortality. + +There was a tradition that years after, when the Indians had disappeared +through a gradual process of intoxication and pauperism, a red man had +been seen skulking along the brow of this very hill and peering down +through the bushes where the boy was now perched on a tree, shaking his +fist at the hated civilization, and vengefully, some said pathetically, +looking down into this valley where his race had been so happy in the +natural pursuits of fishing, hunting, and war. On the opposite side of +the river was still to be traced an Indian trail, running to the western +mountains, which the boy intended some time to follow; for this highway +of warlike forays, of messengers of defiance, along which white maidens +had been led captive to Canada, appealed greatly to his imagination. + +The boy lived in these traditions quite as much as in those of the +Revolutionary War into which they invariably glided in his perspective +of history, the redskins and the redcoats being both enemies of his +ancestors. There was the grave of the envied Phineas Arms--that ancient +boy not much older than he--and there were hanging in the kitchen the +musket and powder-horn that his great-grandfather had carried at Bunker +Hill, and did he not know by heart the story of his great-grandmother, +who used to tell his father that she heard when she was a slip of a +girl in Plymouth the cannonading on that awful day when Gage met his +victorious defeat? + +In fact, according to his history-book there had been little but wars +in this peaceful nation: the War of 1812, the Mexican War, the incessant +frontier wars with the Indians, the Kansas War, the Mormon War, the War +for the Union. The echoes of the latter had not yet died away. What a +career he might have had if he had not been born so late in the world! +Swinging in this tree-top, with a vivid consciousness of life, of his +own capacity for action, it seemed a pity that he could not follow the +drum and the flag into such contests as he read about so eagerly. + +And yet this was only a corner of the boy's imagination. He had many +worlds and he lived in each by turn. There was the world of the Old +Testament, of David and Samson, and of those dim figures in the dawn of +history, called the Patriarchs. There was the world of Julius Caesar and +the Latin grammar, though this was scarcely as real to him as the Old +Testament, which was brought to his notice every Sunday as a necessity +of his life, while Caesar and AEneas and the fourth declension were made +to be a task, for some mysterious reason, a part of his education. He +had not been told that they were really a part of the other world which +occupied his mind so much of the time, the world of the Arabian Nights +and Robinson Crusoe, and Coleridge and Shelley and Longfellow, and +Washington Irving and Scott and Thackeray, and Pope's Iliad and +Plutarch's Lives. That this was a living world to the boy was scarcely +his fault, for it must be confessed that those were very antiquated +book-shelves in the old farmhouse to which he had access, and the news +had not been apprehended in this remote valley that the classics of +literature were all as good as dead and buried, and that the human mind +had not really created anything worth modern notice before about the +middle of the nineteenth century. It was not exactly an ignorant valley, +for the daily newspapers were there, and the monthly magazine, and the +fashion-plate of Paris, and the illuminating sunshine of new science, +and enough of the uneasy throb of modern life. Yet somehow the books +that were still books had not been sent to the garret, to make room for +the illustrated papers and the profound physiological studies of sin and +suffering that were produced by touching a scientific button. No, the +boy was conscious in a way of the mighty pulsation of American life, +and he had also a dim notion that his dreams in his various worlds would +come to a brilliant fulfillment when he was big enough to go out and win +a name and fame. But somehow the old books, and the family life, and the +sedate ways of the community he knew, had given him a fundamental and +not unarmed faith in the things that were and had been. + +Every Sunday the preacher denounced the glitter and frivolity and +corruption of what he called Society, until the boy longed to see this +splendid panorama of cities and hasting populations, the seekers of +pleasure and money and fame, this gay world which was as fascinating as +it was wicked. The preacher said the world was wicked and vain. It did +not seem so to the boy this summer day, not at least the world he knew. +Of course the boy had no experience. He had never heard of Juvenal nor +of Max Nordau. He had no philosophy of life. He did not even know +that when he became very old the world would seem to him good or bad +according to the degree in which he had become a good or a bad man. + +In fact, he was not thinking much about being good or being bad, but +of trying his powers in a world which seemed to offer to him infinite +opportunities. His name--Philip Burnett--with which the world, at least +the American world, is now tolerably familiar, and which he liked to +write with ornamental flourishes on the fly-leaves of his schoolbooks, +did not mean much to him, for he had never seen it in print, nor been +confronted with it as something apart from himself. But the Philip that +he was he felt sure would do something in the world. What that something +should be varied from day to day according to the book, the poem, the +history or biography that he was last reading. It would not be difficult +to write a poem like “Thanatopsis” if he took time enough, building up a +line a day. And yet it would be better to be a soldier, a man who could +use the sword as well as the pen, a poet in uniform. This was a pleasing +imagination. Surely his aunt and his cousins in the farmhouse would +have more respect for him if he wore a uniform, and treat him with more +consideration, and perhaps they would be very anxious about him when +he was away in battles, and very proud of him when he came home between +battles, and went quite modestly with the family into the village +church, and felt rather than saw the slight flutter in the pews as he +walked down the aisle, and knew that the young ladies, the girl comrades +of the district school, were watching him from the organ gallery, +curious to see Phil, who had gone into the army. Perhaps the preacher +would have a sermon against war, and the preacher should see how +soldierlike he would take this attack on him. Alas! is such vanity at +the bottom of even a reasonable ambition? Perhaps his town would be +proud of him if he were a lawyer, a Representative in Congress, come +back to deliver the annual oration at the Agricultural Fair. He could +see the audience of familiar faces, and hear the applause at his witty +satires and his praise of the nobility of the farmer's life, and it +would be sweet indeed to have the country people grasp him by the hand +and call him Phil, just as they used to before he was famous. What he +would say, he was not thinking of, but the position he would occupy +before the audience. There were no misgivings in any of these dreams of +youth. + + + + +II + +The musings of this dreamer in a tree-top were interrupted by the +peremptory notes of a tin horn from the farmhouse below. The boy +recognized this not only as a signal of declining day and the +withdrawal of the sun behind the mountains, but as a personal and urgent +notification to him that a certain amount of disenchanting drudgery +called chores lay between him and supper and the lamp-illumined pages of +The Last of the Mohicans. It was difficult, even in his own estimation, +to continue to be a hero at the summons of a tin horn--a silver clarion +and castle walls would have been so different--and Phil slid swiftly +down from his perch, envying the squirrels who were under no such +bondage of duty. + +Recalled to the world that now is, the lad hastily gathered a bouquet +of columbine and a bunch of the tender leaves and the red berries of the +wintergreen, called to “Turk,” who had been all these hours watching a +woodchuck hole, and ran down the hill by leaps and circuits as fast as +his little legs could carry him, and, with every appearance of a lad who +puts duty before pleasure, arrived breathless at the kitchen door, where +Alice stood waiting for him. Alice, the somewhat feeble performer on the +horn, who had been watching for the boy with her hand shading her eyes, +called out upon his approach: + +“Why, Phil, what in the world--” + +“Oh, Alice!” cried the boy, eagerly, having in a moment changed in +his mind the destination of the flowers; “I've found a place where the +checker-berries are thick as spatter.” And Phil put the flowers and the +berries in his cousin's hand. Alice looked very much pleased with this +simple tribute, but, as she admired it, unfortunately asked--women +always ask such questions: + +“And you picked them for me?” + +This was a cruel dilemma. Phil was more devoted to his sweet cousin than +to any one else in the world, and he didn't want to hurt her feelings, +and he hated to tell a lie. So he only looked a lie, out of his +affectionate, truthful eyes, and said: + +“I love to bring you flowers. Has uncle come home yet?” + +“Yes, long ago. He called and looked all around for you to unharness the +horse, and he wanted you to go an errand over the river to Gibson's. I +guess he was put out.” + +“Did he say anything?” + +“He asked if you had weeded the beets. And he said that you were the +master boy to dream and moon around he ever saw.” And she added, with +a confidential and mischievous smile: “I think you'd better brought a +switch along; it would save time.” + +Phil had a great respect for his uncle Maitland, but he feared him +almost more than he feared the remote God of Abraham and Isaac. Mr. +Maitland was not only the most prosperous man in all that region, but +the man of the finest appearance, and a bearing that was equity itself. +He was the first selectman of the town, and a deacon in the church, and +however much he prized mercy in the next world he did not intend to have +that quality interfere with justice in this world. Phil knew indeed that +he was a man of God, that fact was impressed upon him at least twice a +day, but he sometimes used to think it must be a severe God to have +that sort of man. And he didn't like the curt way he pronounced the holy +name--he might as well have called Job “job.” + +Alice was as unlike her father, except in certain race qualities of +integrity and common-sense, as if she were of different blood. She was +the youngest of five maiden sisters, and had arrived at the mature age +of eighteen. Slender in figure, with a grace that was half shyness, soft +brown hair, gray eyes that changed color and could as easily be sad +as merry, a face marked with a moving dimple that every one said was +lovely, retiring in manner and yet not lacking spirit nor a sly wit of +her own. Now and then, yes, very often, out of some paradise, no doubt, +strays into New England conditions of reticence and self-denial such a +sweet spirit, to diffuse a breath of heaven in its atmosphere, and +to wither like a rose ungathered. These are the New England nuns, not +taking any vows, not self-consciously virtuous, apparently untouched by +the vanities of the world. Marriage? It is not in any girl's nature not +to think of that, not to be in a flutter of pleasure or apprehension +at the attentions of the other sex. Who has been able truly to read +the thoughts of a shrinking maiden in the passing days of her youth and +beauty? In this harmonious and unselfish household, each with decided +individual character, no one ever intruded upon the inner life of the +other. No confidences were given in the deep matters of the heart, +no sign except a blush over a sly allusion to some one who had been +“attentive.” If you had stolen a look into the workbasket or the secret +bureau-drawer, you might have found a treasured note, a bit of ribbon, a +rosebud, some token of tenderness or of friendship that was growing +old with the priestess who cherished it. Did they not love flowers, and +pets, and had they not a passion for children? Were there not moonlight +evenings when they sat silent and musing on the stone steps, watching +the shadows and the dancing gleams on the swift river, when the air +was fragrant with the pink and the lilac? Not melancholy this, nor +poignantly sad, but having in it nevertheless something of the pathos +of life unfulfilled. And was there not sometimes, not yet habitually, +coming upon these faces, faces plain and faces attractive, the shade of +renunciation? + +Phil loved Alice devotedly. She was his confidante, his defender, but +he feared more the disapproval of her sweet eyes when he had done wrong +than the threatened punishment of his uncle. + +“I only meant to be gone just a little while,” Phil went on to say. + +“And you were away the whole afternoon. It is a pity the days are so +short. And you don't know what you lost.” + +“No great, I guess.” + +“Celia and her mother were here. They stayed all the afternoon.” + +“Celia Howard? Did she wonder where I was?” + +“I don't know. She didn't say anything about it. What a dear little +thing she is!” + +“And she can say pretty cutting things.” + +“Oh, can she? Perhaps you'd better run down to the village before dark +and take her these flowers.” + +“I'm not going. I'd rather you should have the flowers.” And Phil spoke +the truth this time. + +Celia, who was altogether too young to occupy seriously the mind of a +lad of twelve, had nevertheless gained an ascendancy over him because of +her willful, perverse, and sometimes scornful ways, and because she was +different from the other girls of the school. She had read many more +books than Phil, for she had access to a library, and she could tell +him much of a world that he only heard of through books and newspapers, +which latter he had no habit of reading. He liked, therefore, to be +with Celia, not withstanding her little airs of superiority, and if she +patronized him, as she certainly did, probably the simple-minded young +gentleman, who was unconsciously bred in the belief that he and his +own kin had no superiors anywhere, never noticed it. To be sure they +quarreled a good deal, but truth to say Phil was never more fascinated +with the little witch, whom he felt himself strong enough to protect, +than when she showed a pretty temper. He rather liked to be ordered +about by the little tyrant. And sometimes he wished that Murad Ault, +the big boy of the school, would be rude to the small damsel, so that +he could show her how a knight would act under such circumstances. Murad +Ault stood to Phil for the satanic element in his peaceful world. He +was not only big and strong of limb and broad of chest, but he was very +swarthy, and had closely curled black hair. He feared nothing, not even +the teacher, and was always doing some dare-devil thing to frighten +the children. And because he was dark, morose, and made no friends, and +wished none, but went solitary his own dark way, Phil fancied that he +must have Spanish blood in his veins, and would no doubt grow up to be +a pirate. No other boy in the winter could skate like Murad Ault, with +such strength and grace and recklessness--thin ice and thick ice were +all one to him, but he skated along, dashing in and out, and sweeping +away up and down the river in a whirl of vigor and daring, like a black +marauder. Yet he was best and most awesome in the swimming pond in +summer--though it was believed that he dared go in in the bitter winter, +either by breaking the ice or through an air-hole, and there was a story +that he had ventured under the ice as fearless as a cold fish. No one +could dive from such a height as he, or stay so long under water; he +liked to stay under long enough to scare the spectators, and then appear +at a distance, thrashing about in the water as if he were rescuing +himself from drowning, sputtering out at the same time the most +diabolical noises--curses, no doubt, for he had been heard to swear. +But as he skated alone he swam alone, appearing and disappearing at the +swimming-place silently, with never a salutation to any one. And he was +as skillful a fisher as he was a swimmer. No one knew much about him. +He lived with his mother in a little cabin up among the hills, that had +about it scant patches of potatoes and corn and beans, a garden fenced +in by stumproots, as ill-cared for as the shanty. Where they came from +no one knew. How they lived was a matter of conjecture, though the +mother gathered herbs and berries and bartered them at the village +store, and Murad occasionally took a hand in some neighbor's hay-field, +or got a job of chopping wood in the winter. The mother was old and +small and withered, and they said evil-eyed. Probably she was no more +evil-eyed than any old woman who had such a hard struggle for existence +as she had. An old widow with an only son who looked like a Spaniard and +acted like an imp! Here was another sort of exotic in the New England +life. + +Celia had been brought to Rivervale by her mother about a year before +this time, and the two occupied a neat little cottage in the village, +distinguished only by its neatness and a plot of syringas, and pinks, +and marigolds, and roses, and bachelor's-buttons, and boxes of the +tough little exotics, called “hen-and-chickens,” in the door-yard, and +a vigorous fragrant honeysuckle over the front porch. She only dimly +remembered her father, who had been a merchant in a small way in +the city, and dying left to his widow and only child a very moderate +fortune. The girl showed early an active and ingenious mind, and an +equal love for books and for having her own way; but she was delicate, +and Mrs. Howard wisely judged that a few years in a country village +would improve her health and broaden her view of life beyond that of +cockney provincialism. For, though Mrs. Howard had more refinement +than strength of mind, and passed generally for a sweet and inoffensive +little woman, she did not lack a certain true perception of values, due +doubtless to the fact that she had been a New England girl, and, before +her marriage and emigration to the great city, had passed her life among +unexciting realities, and among people who had leisure to think out +things in a slow way. But the girl's energy and self-confidence had no +doubt been acquired from her father, who was cut off in mid-career of +his struggle for place in the metropolis, or from some remote ancestor. +Before she was eleven years old her mother had listened with some wonder +and more apprehension to the eager forecast of what this child intended +to do when she became a woman, and already shrank from a vision of Celia +on a public platform, or the leader of some metempsychosis club. Through +her affections only was the child manageable, but in opposition to her +spirit her mother was practically powerless. Indeed, this little sprout +of the New Age always spoke of her to Philip and to the Maitlands as +“little mother.” + +The epithet seemed peculiarly tender to Philip, who had lost his father +before he was six years old, and he was more attracted to the timid and +gentle little widow than to his equable but more robust Aunt Eusebia, +Mrs. Maitland, his father's elder sister, whom Philip fancied not a bit +like his father except in sincerity, a quality common to the Maitlands +and Burnetts. Yet there was a family likeness between his aunt and a +portrait of his father, painted by a Boston artist of some celebrity, +which his mother, who survived her husband only three years, had +saved for her boy. His father was a farmer, but a man of considerable +cultivation, though not college-bred--his last request on his death-bed +was that Phil should be sent to college--a man who made experiments in +improving agriculture and the breed of cattle and horses, read papers +now and then on topics of social and political reform, and was the only +farmer in all the hill towns who had what might be called a library. + +It was all scattered at the time of the winding up of the farm estate, +and the only jetsam that Philip inherited out of it was an annotated +copy of Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations, Young's Travels in France, a +copy of The Newcomes, and the first American edition of Childe +Harold. Probably these odd volumes had not been considered worth any +considerable bid at the auction. From his mother, who was fond of books, +and had on more than one occasion, of the failure of teachers, taught +in the village school in her native town before her marriage, Philip +inherited his love of poetry, and he well remembered how she used to try +to inspire him with patriotism by reading the orations of Daniel Webster +(she was very fond of orations), and telling him war stories about +Grant and Sherman and Sheridan and Farragut and Lincoln. He distinctly +remembered also standing at her knees and trying, at intervals, to +commit to memory the Rime of the Ancient Mariner. He had learned it all +since, because he thought it would please his mother, and because there +was something in it that appealed to his coming sense of the mystery +of life. When he repeated it to Celia, who had never heard of it, and +remarked that it was all made up, and that she never tried to learn a +long thing like that that wasn't so, Philip could see that her respect +for him increased a little. He did not know that the child got it out +of the library the next day and never rested till she knew it by heart. +Philip could repeat also the books of the Bible in order, just as glibly +as the multiplication-table, and the little minx, who could not brook +that a country boy should be superior to her in anything, had surprised +her mother by rattling them all off to her one Sunday evening, just as +if she had been born in New England instead of in New York. As to the +other fine things his mother read him, out of Ruskin and the like; +Philip chiefly remembered what a pretty glow there was in his mother's +face when she read them, and that recollection was a valuable part of +the boy's education. + +Another valuable part of his education was the gracious influence in +his aunt's household, the spirit of candor, of affection, and the sane +common-sense with which life was regarded, the simplicity of its faith +and the patience with which trials were borne. The lessons he learned in +it had more practical influence in his life than all the books he read. +Nor were his opportunities for the study of character so meagre as +the limit of one family would imply. As often happens in New England +households, individualities were very marked, and from his stern uncle +and his placid aunt down to the sweet and nimble-witted Alice, the +family had developed traits and even eccentricities enough to make it a +sort of microcosm of life. There, for instance, was Patience, the maiden +aunt, his father's sister, the news-monger of the fireside, whose +powers of ratiocination first gave Philip the Greek idea and method of +reasoning to a point and arriving at truth by the process of exclusion. +It did not excite his wonder at the time, but afterwards it appeared to +him as one of the New England eccentricities of which the novelists make +so much. Patience was a home-keeping body and rarely left the premises +except to go to church on Sunday, although her cheerfulness and social +helpfulness were tinged by nothing morbid. The story was--Philip learned +it long afterwards--that in her very young and frisky days Patience had +one evening remained out at some merry-making very late, and in fact had +been escorted home in the moonlight by a young gentleman when the +tall, awful-faced clock, whose face her mother was watching, was on the +dreadful stroke of eleven. For this delinquency her mother had reproved +her, the girl thought unreasonably, and she had quickly replied, +“Mother, I will never go out again.” And she never did. It was in fact a +renunciation of the world, made apparently without rage, and adhered to +with cheerful obstinacy. + +But although for many years Patience rarely left her home, until the +habit of seclusion had become as fixed as that of a nun who had +taken the vows, no one knew so well as she the news and gossip of +the neighborhood, and her power of learning or divining it seemed to +increase with her years. She had a habit of sitting, when her household +duties permitted, at a front window, which commanded a long view of the +river road, and gathering the news by a process peculiar to herself. +From this peep-hole she studied the character and destination of all the +passers-by that came within range of her vision, and made her comments +and deductions, partly to herself, but for the benefit of those who +might be listening. + +“Why, there goes Thomas Henry,” she would say (she always called people +by their first and middle names). “Now, wherever can he be going this +morning in the very midst of getting in his hay? He can't be going +to the Browns' for vegetables, for they set great store by their own +raising this year; and they don't get their provisions up this way +either, because Mary Ellen quarreled with Simmons's people last year. +No!” she would exclaim, rising to a climax of certainty on this point, +“I'll be bound he is not going after anything in the eating line!” + +Meantime Thomas Henry's wagon would be disappearing slowly up the +sandy road, giving Patience a chance to get all she could out of it, by +eliminating all the errands Thomas Henry could not possibly be going to +do in order to arrive at the one he must certainly be bound on. + +“They do say he's courting Eliza Merritt,” she continued, “but Eliza +never was a girl to make any man leave his haying. No, he's never going +to see Eliza, and if it isn't provisions or love it's nothing short +of sickness. Now, whoever is sick down there? It can't be Mary Ellen, +because she takes after her father's family and they are all hearty. It +must be Mary Ellen's little girls, and the measles are going the rounds. +It must be they've all got the measles.” + +If the listeners suggested that possibly one of the little girls might +have escaped, the suggestion was decisively put aside. + +“No; if one of them had been well, Mary Ellen would have sent her for +the doctor.” + +Presently Thomas Henry's cart was heard rumbling back, and sure enough +he was returning with the doctor, and Patience hailed him from the gate +and demanded news of Mary Ellen. + +“Why, all her little girls have the measles,” replied Thomas Henry, “and +I had to leave my haying to fetch the doctor.” + +“I want to know,” said Patience. + +Being the eldest born, Patience had appropriated to herself two rooms +in the rambling old farmhouse before her brother's marriage, from which +later comers had never dislodged her, and with that innate respect +for the rights and peculiarities of others which was common in the +household, she was left to express her secluded life in her own way. As +the habit of retirement grew upon her she created a world of her own, +almost as curious and more individually striking than the museum of +Cluny. There was not a square foot in her tiny apartment that did not +exhibit her handiwork. She was very fond of reading, and had a passion +for the little prints and engravings of “foreign views,” which she wove +into her realm of natural history. There was no flower or leaf or fruit +that she had seen that she could not imitate exactly in wax or paper. +All over the walls hung the little prints and engravings, framed in +wreaths of moss and artificial flowers, or in elaborate square frames +made of pasteboard. The pasteboard was cut out to fit the picture, and +the margins, daubed with paste, were then strewn with seeds of corn and +acorns and hazelnuts, and then the whole was gilded so that the effect +was almost as rich as it was novel. All about the rooms, in nooks and on +tables, stood baskets and dishes of fruit-apples and plums and peaches +and grapes-set in proper foliage of most natural appearance, like enough +to deceive a bird or the Sunday-school scholars, when on rare occasions +they were admitted into this holy of holies. Out of boxes, apparently +filled with earth in the corners of the rooms, grew what seemed to be +vines trained to run all about the cornices and to festoon the pictures, +but which were really strings, colored in imitation of the real vine, +and spreading out into paper foliage. To complete the naturalistic +character of these everlasting vines, which no scale-bugs could assail, +there were bunches of wonderful grapes depending here and there to +excite the cupidity of both bird and child. There was no cruelty in +the nature of Patience, and she made prisoners of neither birds +nor squirrels, but cunning cages here and there held most lifelike +counterfeits of their willing captives. There was nothing in the room +that was alive, except the dainty owner, but it seemed to be a museum +of natural history. The rugs on the floor were of her own devising and +sewing together, and rivaled in color and ingenuity those of Bokhara. + +But Patience was a student of the heavens as well as of the earth, and +it was upon the ceiling that her imagination expanded. There one could +see in their order the constellations of the heavens, represented by +paper-gilt stars, of all magnitudes, most wonderful to behold. This part +of her decorations was the most difficult of all. The constellations +were not made from any geography of the heavens, but from actual nightly +observation of the positions of the heavenly bodies. Patience confessed +that the getting exactly right of the Great Dipper had caused her most +trouble. On the night that was constructed she sat up till three o'clock +in the morning, going out and studying it and coming in and putting up +one star at a time. How could she reach the high ceiling? Oh, she took +a bean-pole, stuck the gilt star on the end of it, having paste on the +reverse side, and fixed it in its place. That was easy, only it was +difficult to remember when she came into the house the correct positions +of the stars in the heavens. What the astronomer and the botanist and +the naturalist would have said of this little kingdom is unknown, but +Patience herself lived among the glories of the heavens and the beauties +of the earth which she had created. Probably she may have had a humorous +conception of this, for she was not lacking in a sense of humor. The +stone step that led to her private door she had skillfully painted with +faint brown spots, so that when visitors made their exit from this part +of the house they would say, “Why, it rains!” but Patience would laugh +and say, “I guess it is over by now.” + + + + +III + +“I'm not going to follow you about any more through the brush and +brambles, Phil Burnett,” and Celia, emerging from the thicket into a +clearing, flung herself down on a knoll under a beech-tree. + +Celia was cross. They were out for a Saturday holiday on the hillside, +where Phil said there were oceans of raspberries and blueberries, +beginning to get ripe, and where you could hear the partridges drumming +in the woods, and see the squirrels. + +“Why, I'm not a bit tired,” said Phil; “a boy wouldn't be.” And he threw +himself down on the green moss, with his heels in the air, much more +intent on the chatter of a gray squirrel in the tree above him than on +the complaints of his comrade. + +“Why don't you go with a boy, then?” asked Celia, in a tone intended to +be severe and dignified. + +“A boy isn't so nice,” said Philip, with the air of stating a general +proposition, but not looking at her. + + +“Oh,” said Celia, only half appeased, “I quite agree with you.” And +she pulled down some beech leaves from a low, hanging limb and began to +plait a wreath. + +“Who are you making that for?” asked Philip, who began to be aware that +a cloud had come over his holiday sky. + +“Nobody in particular; it's just a wreath.” And then there was silence, +till Philip made another attempt. + +“Celia, I don't mind staying here if you are tired. Tell me something +about New York City. I wish we were there.” + +“Much you know about it,” said Celia, but with some relaxation of +her severity, for as she looked at the boy in his country clothes and +glanced at her own old frock and abraded shoes, she thought what a funny +appearance the pair would make on a fashionable city street. + +“Would you rather be there?” asked Philip. “I thought you liked living +here.” + +“Would I rather? What a question! Everybody would. The country is a good +place to go to when you are tired, as mamma is. But the city! The big +fine houses, and the people all going about in a hurry; the streets all +lighted up at night, so that you can see miles and miles of lights; and +the horses and carriages, and the lovely dresses, and the churches full +of nice people, and such beautiful music! And once mamma took me to +the theatre. Oh, Phil, you ought to see a play, and the actors, all +be-a-u-ti-fully dressed, and talking just like a party in a house, and +dancing, and being funny, and some of it so sad as to make you cry, and +some of it so droll that you had to laugh--just such a world as you read +of in books and in poetry. I was so excited that I saw the stage all +night and could hardly sleep.” The girl paused and looked away to +the river as if she saw it all again, and then added in a burst of +confidence: + +“Do you know, I mean to be an actress some day, when mamma will let me.” + +“Play-actors are wicked,” said Phil, in a tone of decision; “our +minister says so, and my uncle says so.” + +“Fudge!” returned Celia. “Much they know about it. Did Alice say so?” + +“I never asked her, but she said once that she supposed it was wrong, +but she would like to see a play.” + +“There, everybody would. Mamma says the people from the country go to +the theatre always, a good deal more than the people in the city go. +I should like to see your aunt Patience in a theatre and hear what she +said about it. She's an actress if ever there was one.” + +Philip opened his eyes in protest. + +“Mamma says it is as good as a play to hear her go on about people, and +what they are like, and what they are going to do, and then her little +rooms are just like a scene on a stage. If they were in New York +everybody would go to see them and to hear her talk.” + +This was such a new view of his home life to Philip that he could +neither combat it nor assent to it, further than to say, that his aunt +was just like everybody else, though she did have some peculiar ways. + +“Well, she acts,” Celia insisted, “and most people act. Our minister +acts all the time, mamma says.” Celia had plenty of opinions of her own, +but when she ventured a startling statement she had the habit of going +under the shelter of “little mother,” whose casual and unconsidered +remarks the girl turned to her own uses. Perhaps she would not have +understood that her mother merely meant that the minister's sacerdotal +character was not exactly his own character. Just as Philip noticed +without being able to explain it that his uncle was one sort of a man in +his religious exercises and observances and another sort of man in his +dealings with him. Children often have recondite thoughts that do not +get expression until their minds are more mature; they even accept +contradictory facts in their experience. There was one of the deacons +who was as kind as possible, and Philip believed was a good and +pious man, who had the reputation of being sharp and even tricky in a +horse-trade. And Philip used to think how lucky it was for him that he +had been converted and was saved! + +“Are you going to stay here always?” asked Philip, pursuing his own +train of thought about the city. + +“Here? I should think not. If I were a boy I wouldn't stay here, I can +tell you. What are you going to do, Phil, what are you going to be?” + +“Oh, I don't know,” said Philip, turning over on his back and looking +up into the blue world through the leaves; “go to college, I suppose.” + Children are even more reticent than adults about revealing their inner +lives, and Philip would not, even to Celia, have confessed the splendid +dreams about his career that came to him that day in the hickory-tree, +and that occupied him a great deal. + +“Of course,” said this wise child, “but that's nothing. I mean, what +are you going to do? My cousin Jim has been all through college, and he +doesn't do a thing except wear nice clothes and hang around and talk. He +says I'm a little chatter-box. I hate the sight of him.” + +“If he doesn't like you, then I don't like him,” said Philip, as if he +were making a general and not a personal assertion. “Oh, I should like +to travel.” + +“So should I, and see things and find things. Jim says he's going to be +an explorer. He never will. He wouldn't find anything. He twits me, +and wants to know what is the good of my reading about Africa and such +things. Phil, don't you love to read about Africa, and the desert, and +the lions and the snakes, and bananas growing, and palm-trees, and the +queerest black men and women, real dwarfs some of them? I just love it.” + +“So do I,” said Philip, “as far as I have read. Alice says it's awful +dangerous--fevers and wild beasts and savages and all that. But I +shouldn't mind.” + +“Of course you wouldn't. But it costs like everything to go to Africa, +or anywhere.” + +“I'd make a book about it, and give lectures, and make lots of money.” + +“I guess,” said Celia, reflecting upon this proposition, “I'd be an +engineer or a railroad man, or something like that, and make a heap of +money, and then I could go anywhere I liked. I just hate to be poor. +There!” + +“Is Jim poor?” + +“No; he can do what he pleases. I asked him, then, why he didn't go to +Africa, and he wanted to know what was the good of finding Livingstone, +anyway. I'll bet Murad Ault would go to Africa.” + +“I wish he would,” said Philip; and then, having moved so that he could +see Celia's face, “Do you like Murad Ault?” + +“No,” replied Celia, promptly; “he's horrid, but he isn't afraid of +anything.” + +“Well, I don't care,” said Philip, who was nettled by this implication. +And Celia, who had shown her power of irritating, took another tack. + +“You don't think I'd be seen going around with him? Aren't we having a +good time up here?” + +“Bully!” replied Philip. And not seeing the way to expand this topic any +further, he suddenly said: + +“Celia, the next time I go on our hill I'll get you lots of sassafras.” + +“Oh, I love sassafras, and sweet-flag!” + +“We can get that on the way home. I know a place.” And then there was a +pause. “Celia, you didn't tell me what you are going to do when you grow +up.” + +“Go to college.” + +“You? Why, girls do, don't they? I never thought of that.” + +“Of course they do. I don't know whether I'll write or be a doctor. I +know one thing--I won't teach school. It's the hatefulest thing there +is! It's nice to be a doctor and have your own horse, and go round like +a man. If it wasn't for seeing so many sick people! I guess I'll write +stories and things.” + +“So would I,” Philip confessed, “if I knew any.” + +“Why, you make 'em up. Mamma says they are all made up. I can make 'em +in my head any time when I'm alone.” + +“I don't know,” Philip said, reflectively, “but I could make up a story +about Murad Ault, and how he got to be a pirate and got in jail and was +hanged.” + +“Oh, that wouldn't be a real story. You have got to have different +people in it, and have 'em talk, just as they do in books; and somebody +is in love and somebody dies, and the like of that.” + +“Well, there are such stories in The Pirate's Own Book, and it's awful +interesting.” + +“I'd be ashamed, Philip Burnett, to read such a cruel thing, all about +robbers and murders.” + +“I didn't read it through; Alice said she was going to burn it up. I +shouldn't wonder if she did.” + +“Boys make me tired!” exclaimed this little piece of presumption; and +this attitude of superiority exasperated Philip more than anything else +his mentor had said or done, and he asserted his years of seniority by +jumping up and saying, decidedly, “It's time to go home. Shall I carry +your wreath?” + +“No, I thank you!” replied Celia, with frigid politeness. + +“Down in the meadow,” said Philip, making one more effort at +conciliation, “we can get some tigerlilies, and weave them in and make a +beautiful wreath for your mother.” + +“She doesn't like things fussed up,” was the gracious reply. And then +the children trudged along homeward, each with a distinct sense of +injury. + + + + +IV + +Traits that make a child disagreeable are apt to be perpetuated in the +adult. The bumptious, impudent, selfish, “hateful” boy may become a +man of force, of learning, of decided capacity, even of polish and +good manners, and score success, so that those who know him say how +remarkable it is that such a “knurly” lad should have turned out +so well. But some exigency in his career, it may be extraordinary +prosperity or bitter defeat, may at any moment reveal the radical traits +of the boy, the original ignoble nature. The world says that it is +a “throwing back”; it is probably only a persistence of the original +meanness under all the overlaid cultivation and restraint. + +Without bothering itself about the recondite problems of heredity or +the influence of environment, the world wisely makes great account of +“stock.” The peasant nature, which may be a very different thing from +the peasant condition, persists, and shows itself in business affairs, +in literature, even in the artist. No marriage is wisely contracted +without consideration of “stock.” The admirable qualities which make a +union one of mutual respect and enduring affection--the generosities, +the magnanimities, the courage of soul, the crystalline truthfulness, +the endurance of ill fortune and of prosperity--are commonly the +persistence of the character of the stock. + +We can get on with surface weaknesses and eccentricities, and even +disagreeable peculiarities, if the substratum of character is sound. +There is no woman or man so difficult--to get on with, whatever his +or her graces or accomplishments, as the one “you don't know where to +find,” as the phrase is. Indeed, it has come to pass that the highest +and final eulogy ever given to a man, either in public or private life, +is that he is one “you can tie to.” And when you find a woman of that +sort you do not need to explain to the cynical the wisdom of the Creator +in making the most attractive and fascinating sex. + +The traits, good and bad, persist; they may be veneered or restrained, +they are seldom eradicated. All the traits that made the great Napoleon +worshiped, hated, and feared existed in the little Bonaparte, as +perfectly as the pea-pod in the flower. The whole of the First Empire +was smirched with Corsican vulgarity. The world always reckons with +these radical influences that go to make up a family. One of the first +questions asked by an old politician, who knew his world thoroughly, +about any man becoming prominent, when there was a discussion of his +probable action, was, “Whom did he marry?” + +There are exceptions to this general rule, and they are always +noticeable when they occur--this deviation from the traits of the +earliest years--and offer material fox some of the subtlest and most +interesting studies of the novelist. + +It was impossible for those who met Philip Burnett after he had left +college, and taken his degree in the law-school, and spent a year, more +or less studiously, in Europe, to really know him if they had not known +the dreaming boy in his early home, with all the limitations as well as +the vitalizing influences of his start in life. And on the contrary, the +error of the neighbors of a lad in forecasting his career comes from the +fact that they do not know him. The verdict about Philip would probably +have been that he was a very nice sort of a boy, but that he would never +“set the North River on fire.” There was a headstrong, selfish, pushing +sort of boy, one of Philip's older schoolmates, who had become one of +the foremost merchants and operators in New York, and was already talked +of for mayor. This success was the sort that fulfilled the rural idea of +getting on in the world, whereas Philip's accomplishments, seen through +the veneer of conceit which they had occasioned him to take on, did not +commend themselves as anything worth while. Accomplishments rarely do +unless they are translated into visible position or into the currency +of the realm. How else can they be judged? Does not the great public +involuntarily respect the author rather for the sale of his books than +for the books themselves? + +The period of Philip's novitiate--those most important years from his +acquaintance with Celia Howard to the attainment of his professional +degree--was most interesting to him, but the story of it would not +detain the reader of exciting fiction. He had elected to use his little +patrimony in making himself instead of in making money--if merely +following his inclination could be called an election. If he had +reasoned about it he would have known that the few thousands of dollars +left to him from his father's estate, if judiciously invested in +business, would have grown to a good sum when he came of age, and he +would by that time have come into business habits, so that all he would +need to do would be to go on and make more money. If he had reasoned +more deeply he would have seen that by this process he would become +a man of comparatively few resources for the enjoyment of life, and a +person of very little interest to himself or to anybody else. So perhaps +it was just as well that he followed his instincts and postponed the +making of money until he had made himself, though he was to have a good +many bitter days when the possession of money seemed to him about the +one thing desirable. + +It was Celia, who had been his constant counselor and tormentor, about +the time when she was beginning to feel a little shy and long-legged, +in her short skirts, who had, in a romantic sympathy with his tastes, +opposed his going into a “store” as a clerk, which seemed to the boy at +one time an ideal situation for a young man. + +“A store, indeed!” cried the young lady; “pomatum on your hair, and a +grin on your face; snip, snip, snip, calico, ribbons, yard-stick; 'It's +very becoming, miss, that color; this is only a sample, only a remnant, +but I shall have a new stock in by Friday; anything else, ma'am, today?' +Sho! Philip, for a man!” + +Fortunately for Philip there lived in the village an old waif, a +scholarly oddity, uncommunicative, whose coming to dwell there had +excited much gossip before the inhabitants got used to his odd ways. + +Usually reticent and rough of speech--the children thought he was an old +bear--he was nevertheless discovered to be kindly and even charitable +in neighborhood emergencies, and the minister said he was about the most +learned man he ever knew. His history does not concern us, but he was +doubtless one of the men whose talents have failed to connect with +success in anything, who had had his bout with the world, and retired +into peaceful seclusion in an indulgence of a mild pessimism about the +world generally. + +He lived alone, except for the rather neutral presence of Aunt Hepsy, +who had formerly been a village tailoress, and whose cottage he had +bought with the proviso that the old woman should continue in it as +“help.” With Aunt Hepsy he was no more communicative than with anybody +else. “He was always readin', when he wasn't goin' fishin' or off in the +woods with his gun, and never made no trouble, and was about the easiest +man to get along with she ever see. You mind your business and he'll +mind his'n.” That was the sum of Aunt Hepsy's delivery about the +recluse, though no doubt her old age was enriched by constant “study” + over his probable history and character. But Aunt Hepsy, since she had +given up tailoring, was something of a recluse herself. + +The house was full of books, mostly queer books, “in languages nobody +knows what,” as Aunt Hepsy said, which made Philip open his eyes when he +went there one day to take to the old man a memorandum-book which he had +found on Mill Brook. The recluse took a fancy to the ingenuous lad when +he saw he was interested in books, and perhaps had a mind not much more +practical than his own; the result was an acquaintance, and finally an +intimacy--at which the village wondered until it transpired that Philip +was studying with the old fellow, who was no doubt a poor shack of a +school-teacher in disguise. + +It was from this gruff friend that Philip learned Greek and Latin enough +to enable him to enter college, not enough drill and exact training in +either to give him a high stand, but an appreciation of the literatures +about which the old scholar was always enthusiastic. Philip regretted +all his life that he had not been severely drilled in the classics and +mathematics, for he never could become a specialist in anything. But +perhaps, even in this, fate was dealing with him according to his +capacities. And, indeed, he had a greater respect for the scholarship of +his wayside tutor than for the pedantic acquirements of many men he came +to know afterwards. It was from him that Philip learned about books +and how to look for what he wanted to know, and it was he who directed +Philip's taste to the best. When he went off to college the lad had not +a good preparation, but he knew a great deal that would not count in the +entrance examinations. + +“You will need all the tools you can get the use of, my boy, in the +struggle,” was the advice of his mentor, “and the things you will need +most may be those you have thought least of. I never go fishing without +both fly and bait.” + +Philip was always grateful that before he entered college he had a fine +reading knowledge of French, and that he knew enough German to read and +enjoy Heine's poems and prose, and that he had read, or read in, pretty +much all the English classics. + +He used to recall the remark of a lad about his own age, who was on a +vacation visit to Rivervale, and had just been prepared for college +at one of the famous schools. The boys liked each other and were much +together in the summer, and talked about what interested them during +their rambles, carrying the rod or the fowling-piece. Philip naturally +had most to say about the world he knew, which was the world of +books--that is to say, the stored information that had accumulated in +the world. This more and more impressed the trained student, who one day +exclaimed: + +“By George! I might have known something if I hadn't been kept at school +all my life.” + +Philip's career in college could not have been called notable. He was +not one of the dozen stars in the class-room, but he had a reputation +of another sort. His classmates had a habit of resorting to him if they +wanted to “know anything” outside the text-books, for the range of his +information seemed to them encyclopaedic. On the other hand, he escaped +the reputation of what is called “a good fellow.” He was not so much +unpopular as he was unknown in the college generally, but those who did +know him were tolerant of the fact that he cared more for reading than +for college sports or college politics. It must be confessed that he +added little to the reputation of the university, since his name was +never once mentioned in the public prints--search has been made since +the public came to know him as a writer--as a hero in any crew or team +on any game field. Perhaps it was a little selfish that his muscle +developed in the gymnasium was not put into advertising use for the +university. The excuse was that he had not time to become an athlete, +any more than he had time to spend three years in the discipline of the +regular army, which was in itself an excellent thing. + +Celia, in one of her letters--it was during her first year at a woman's +college, when the development of muscle in gymnastics, running, and +the vigorous game of ball was largely engaging the attention of this +enthusiastic young lady--took him to task for his inactivity. “This is +the age of muscle,” she wrote; “the brain is useless in a flabby body, +and probably the brain itself is nothing but concentrated intelligent +muscle. I don't know how men are coming out, but women will never get +the position they have the right to occupy until they are physically the +equals of men.” + +Philip had replied, banteringly, that if that were so he had no desire +to enter in a physical competition with women, and that men had better +look out for another field. + +But later on, when Celia had got into the swing of the classics, and was +training for a part in the play of “Antigone,” she wrote in a different +strain, though she would have denied that the change had any relation to +the fact that she had strained her back in a rowing-match. She did not +apologize for her former advice, but she was all aglow about the Greek +drama, and made reference to Aspasia as an intellectual type of what +women might become. “I didn't ever tell you how envious I used to be +when you were studying Greek with that old codger in Rivervale, and +could talk about Athens and all that. Next time we meet, I can tell +you, it will be Greek meets Greek. I do hope you have not dropped the +classics and gone in for the modern notion of being real and practical. +If I ever hear of your writing 'real' poetry--it is supposed to be real +if it is in dialect or misspelled! never will write you again, much less +speak to you.” + +Whatever this decided young woman was doing at the time she was sure was +the best for everybody to do, and especially for Master Phil. + +Now that the days of preparation were over, and Philip found himself +in New York, face to face with the fact that he had nowhere to look for +money to meet the expense of rent, board, and clothes except to his own +daily labor, and that there was another economy besides that which he +had practiced as to luxuries, there were doubtless hours when his faith +wavered a little in the wisdom of the decision that had invested all his +patrimony in himself. He had been fortunate, to be sure, in securing a +clerk's desk in the great law-office of Hunt, Sharp & Tweedle, and he +had the kindly encouragement of the firm that, with close application to +business, he would make his way. But even in this he had his misgivings, +for a great part of his acquirements, and those he most valued, did not +seem to be of any use in his office-work. He had a lofty conception of +his chosen profession, as the right arm in the administration of justice +between man and man. In practice, however, it seemed to him that +the object was to win a case rather than to do justice in a case. +Unfortunately, also, he had cultivated his imagination to the extent +that he could see both sides of a case. To see both sides is indeed the +requisite of a great lawyer, but to see the opposite side only in order +to win, as in looking over an opponent's hand in a game of cards. It +seemed to Philip that this clear perception would paralyze his efforts +for one side if he knew it was the wrong side. The argument was that +every cause a man's claim or his defense--ought to be presented in +its fullness and urged with all the advocate's ingenuity, and that the +decision was in the bosom of an immaculate justice on the bench and +the unbiased intelligence in the jury-box. This might be so. But Philip +wondered what would be the effect on his own character and on his +intellect if he indulged much in the habit of making the worse appear +the better cause, and taking up indifferently any side that paid. For +himself, he was inclined always to advise clients to “settle,” and he +fancied that if the occupation of the lawyer was to explain the case +to people ignorant of it, and to champion only the right side, as +it appeared to an unprejudiced, legally trained mind, and to compose +instead of encouraging differences, the law would indeed be a noble +profession, and the natural misunderstandings, ignorance, and different +points of view would make business enough. + +“Stuff!” said Mr. Sharp. “If you begin by declining causes you +disapprove of, the public will end by letting you alone in your +self-conceited squeamishness. It's human nature you've got to deal with, +not theories about law and justice. I tell you that men like litigation. +They want to have it out with somebody. And it is better than +fisticuffs.” + +From Mr. Hunt, who moved in the serener upper currents of the law, +Philip got more satisfaction. + +“Of course, Mr. Burnett, there are miserable squabbles in the law +practice, and contemptible pettifoggers and knaves, and men who will +sell themselves for any dirty work, as there are in most professions and +occupations, but the profession could not exist for a day if it was not +on the whole on the side of law and order and justice. + +“No doubt it needs from time to time criticism and reformation. So does +the church. You look at the characters of the really great lawyers! And +there is another thing. In dealing with the cases of our complex life, +there is no accomplishment, no learning in science, art, or literature, +that the successful practitioner will not find it very advantageous to +possess. And a lawyer will never be eminent who has not imagination.” + +Philip thought he had a very good chance of exercising his imagination +in the sky chamber where he slept--a capital situation from which to +observe the world. There could not have been an uglier view created--a +shapeless mass of brick and stone and painted wood, a collected, +towering monstrosity of rectangular and inharmonious lines, a realized +dream of hideousness--but for the splendid sky, always changing and +doing all that was possible in the gleams and shadows and the glowing +colors of morning and evening to soften the ambitious work of man; but +for the wide horizon, with patches of green shores and verdant flats +washed by the kindly tide; but for the Highlands and Staten Island, +the gateway to the ocean; but for the great river and the mighty bay +shimmering and twinkling and often iridescent, and the animated life +of sails and steamers, the leviathans of commerce and the playthings of +pleasure, and the beetle-like, monstrous ferry-boats that pushed +their noses through all the confusion, like intelligent, business-like +saurians that knew how to keep an appointed line by a clumsy courtesy +of apparent yielding. Yes, there was life enough in all this, and +inspiration, if one only knew what to be inspired about. + +When Philip came home from the office at sunset, through the bustling +streets, and climbed up to his perch, he insensibly brought with him +something of the restless energy and strife of the city, and in this +mood the prospect before him took on a certain significance of +great things accomplished, of the highest form of human energy and +achievement; he was a part of this exuberant, abundant life, to succeed +in the struggle seemed easy, and for the moment he possessed what he +saw. + +The little room had space enough for a cot bed, a toilet-stand, a couple +of easy-chairs--an easy-chair is the one article of furniture absolutely +necessary to a reflecting student--some well-filled book-shelves, a +small writing-desk, and a tiny closet quite large enough for a wardrobe +which seemed to have no disposition to grow. Except for the books and +the writing-desk, with its heterogeneous manuscripts, unfinished or +rejected, there was not much in the room to indicate the taste of its +occupant, unless you knew that his taste was exhibited rather by what he +excluded from the room than by what it contained. It must be confessed +that, when Philip was alone with his books and his manuscripts, his +imagination did not expand in the directions that would have seemed +profitable to the head of his firm. That life of the town which was +roaring in his ears, that panorama of prosperity spread before him, +related themselves in his mind not so much as incitements to engage +in the quarrels of his profession as something demanding study and +interpretation, something much more human than processes and briefs +and arguments. And it was a dark omen for his success that the world +interested him much more for itself than for what he could make out +of it. Make something to be sure he must--so long as he was only a law +clerk on a meagre salary--and it was this necessity that had much to do +with the production of the manuscripts. It was a joke on Philip in his +club--by-the-way, the half-yearly dues were not far off--that he was +doing splendidly in the law; he already had an extensive practice in +chambers! + +The law is said to be a jealous mistress, but literature is a young lady +who likes to be loved for herself alone, and thinks permission to adore +is sufficient reward for her votary. Common-sense told Philip that the +jealous mistress would flout him and land him in failure if he gave +her a half-hearted service; but the other young lady, the Helen of +the professions, was always beckoning him and alluring him by the most +subtle arts, occupying all his hours with meditations on her grace and +beauty, till it seemed the world were well lost for her smile. And the +fascinating jade never hinted that devotion to her brought more drudgery +and harassment and pain than any other service in the world. It would +not have mattered if she had been frank, and told him that her promise +of eternal life was illusory and her rewards commonly but a flattering +of vanity. There was no resisting her enchantments, and he would rather +follow her through a world of sin and suffering, pursuing her radiant +form over bog and moor, in penury and heartache, for one sunrise smile +and one glimpse of her sunset heaven, than to walk at ease with a +commonplace maiden on any illumined and well-trod highway. + + + + +V + +It is the desire of every ambitious soul to, enter Literature by the +front door, and the few who have patience and money enough to live +without the aid of the beckoning Helen may enter there. But a side +entrance is the destiny of most aspirants, even those with the golden +key of genius, and they are a long time in working their way to be seen +coming out, of the front entrance. It is true that a man can attract +considerable and immediate attention by trying to effect an entrance +through the sewer, but he seldom gains the respect of the public whom he +interests, any more than an exhibitor of fireworks gains the reputation +of an artist that is accorded to the painter of a good picture. + +Philip was waiting at the front door, with his essays and his prose +symphonies and his satirical novel--the satire of a young man is apt to +be very bitter--but it was as tightly shut against him as if a publisher +and not the muse of literature kept the door. + +There was a fellow-boarder with Philip, whose acquaintance he had made +at the common table in the basement, who appeared to be free of the +world of letters and art. He was an alert, compact, neatly dressed +little fellow, who had apparently improved every one of his twenty-eight +years in the study of life, in gaining assurance and confidence in +himself, and also presented himself as one who knew the nether world +completely but was not of it. He would have said of himself that he knew +it profoundly, that he frequented it for “material,” but that his home +was in another sphere. The impression was that he belonged among those +brilliant guerrillas of both sexes, in the border-land of art and +society, who lived daintily and talked about life with unconventional +freedom. Slight in figure, with very black hair, and eyes of cloudy +gray, an olive complexion, and features trained to an immobility proof +against emotion or surprise, the whole poised as we would say in the +act of being gentlemanly, it is needless to say that he took himself +seriously. His readiness, self-confidence, cocksureness, Philip thought +all expressed in his name--Olin Brad. + +Mr. Brad was not a Bohemian--that is, not at all a Bohemian of the +recognized type. His fashionable dress, closely trimmed hair, and dainty +boots took him out of that class. He belonged to the new order, which +seems to have come in with modern journalism--that is, Bohemian in +principle, but of the manners and apparel of the favored of fortune. Mr. +Brad was undoubtedly clever, and was down as a bright young man in the +list of those who employed talent which was not dulled by conscientious +scruples. He had stood well in college, during three years in Europe +he had picked up two or three languages, dissipated his remaining small +fortune, acquired expensive tastes, and knowledge, both esoteric and +exoteric, that was valuable to him in his present occupation. Returning +home fully equipped for a modern literary career, and finding after some +bitter experience that his accomplishments were not taken or paid for +at their real value by the caterers for intellectual New York, he had +dropped into congenial society on the staff of the Daily Spectrum, a +mighty engine of public opinion, which scattered about the city and +adjacent territory a million of copies, as prodigally as if they had +been auctioneers' announcements. Fastidious people who did not read it +gave it a bad name, not recognizing the classic and heroic attitude of +those engaged in pitchforking up and turning over the muck of the Augean +stables under the pretense of cleaning them. + +Mr. Brad had a Socratic contempt for this sort of fault-finding. It was +answer enough to say, “It pays. The people like it or they wouldn't buy +it. It commands the best talent in the market and can afford to pay +for it; even clergymen like to appear in its columns--they say it's +a providential chance to reach the masses. And look at the 'Morning +GooGoo' (this was his nickname for one of the older dailies), it +couldn't pay its paper bills if it hadn't such a small circulation.” + +Mr. Brad, however, was not one of the editors, though the acceptance +of an occasional short editorial, sufficiently piquant and impudent and +vivid in language--to suit, had given him hopes. He was salaried, but +under orders for special service, and was always in the hope that the +execution of each new assignment would bring him into popular notice, +which would mean an advance of position and pay. + +Philip was impressed with the ready talent, the adaptable talent, and +the facility of this accomplished journalist, and as their acquaintance +improved he was let into many of the secrets of success in the +profession. + +“It isn't an easy thing,” said Mr. Brad, “to cater to a public that gets +tired of anything in about three days. But it is just as well satisfied +with a contradiction as with the original statement. It calls both news. +You have to watch out and see what the people want, and give it to +'em. It is something like the purveying of the manufacturers and the +dry-goods jobber for the changing trade in fashions; only the newspaper +has the advantage that it can turn a somersault every day and not have +any useless stock left on hand. + +“The public hasn't any memory, or, if it has, this whirligig process +destroys it. What it will not submit to is the lack of a daily surprise. +Keep that in your mind and you can make a popular newspaper. Only,” + continued Mr. Brad, reflectively, “you've got to hit a lot of different +tastes.” + +“You'd laugh,” this artist in emotions went on, after a little pause, +“at some of my assignments. There was a run awhile ago on elopements, +and my assignment was to have one every Monday morning. The girl must +always be lovely and refined and moving in the best society; elopement +with the coachman preferred, varied with a teacher in a Sunday-school. +Invented? Not always. It was surprising how many you could find ready +made, if you were on the watch. I got into the habit of locating them in +the interior of Pennsylvania as the safest place, though Jersey seemed +equally probable to the public. Did I never get caught? That made it +all the more lively and interesting. Denials, affidavits, elaborate +explanations, two sides to any question; if it was too hot, I could +change the name and shift the scene to a still more obscure town. Or it +could be laid to the zeal of a local reporter, who could give the most +ingenious reasons for his story. Once I worked one of those imaginary +reporters up into such prominence for his clever astuteness that my boss +was taken in, and asked me to send for him and give him a show on the +paper. + +“Oh, yes, we have to keep up the domestic side. A paper will not go +unless the women like it. One of the assignments I liked was 'Sayings of +Our Little Ones.' This was for every Tuesday morning. Not more than +half a column. These always got copied by the country press solid. It is +really surprising how many bright things you can make children of five +and six years say if you give your mind to it. The boss said that I +overdid it sometimes and made them too bright instead of 'just cunning.' + +“'Psychological Study of Children' had a great run. This is the age of +science. Same with animals, astronomy--anything. If the public wants +science, the papers will give it science. + +“After all, the best hold for a lasting sensation is an attack upon +some charity or public institution; show up the abuses, and get all +the sentimentalists on your side. The paper gets sympathy for its +fearlessness in serving the public interests. It is always easy to find +plenty of testimony from ill-used convicts and grumbling pensioners.” + +Undoubtedly Olin Brad was a clever fellow, uncommonly well read in the +surface literatures of foreign origin, and had a keen interest in what +he called the metaphysics of his own time. He had many good qualities, +among them friendliness towards men and women struggling like himself to +get up the ladder, and he laid aside all jealousy when he advised Philip +to try his hand at some practical work on the Spectrum. What puzzled +Philip was that this fabricator of “stories” for the newspaper should +call himself a “realist.” The “story,” it need hardly be explained, is +newspaper slang for any incident, true or invented, that is worked up +for dramatic effect. To state the plain facts as they occurred, or +might have occurred, and as they could actually be seen by a competent +observer, would not make a story. The writer must put in color, and +idealize the scene and the people engaged in it, he must invent dramatic +circumstances and positions and language, so as to produce a “picture.” + And this picture, embroidered on a commonplace incident, has got the +name of “news.” The thread of fact in this glittering web the reader +must pick out by his own wits, assisted by his memory of what things +usually are. And the public likes these stories much better than the +unadorned report of facts. It is accustomed to this view of life, so +much so that it fancies it never knew what war was, or what a battle +was, until the novelists began to report them. + +Mr. Brad was in the story stage of his evolution as a writer. His light +facility in it had its attraction for Philip, but down deep in his +nature he felt and the impression was deepened by watching the career of +several bright young men and women on the press--that indulgence in it +would result in such intellectual dishonesty as to destroy the power of +producing fiction that should be true to life. He was so impressed by +the ability and manifold accomplishments of Mr. Brad that he thought it +a pity for him to travel that road, and one day he asked him why he did +not go in for literature. + +“Literature!” exclaimed Mr. Brad, with some irritation; “I starved on +literature for a year. Who does live on it, till he gets beyond the +necessity of depending on it? There is a lot of humbug talked about it. +You can't do anything till you get your name up. Some day I will make +a hit, and everybody will ask, 'Who is this daring, clever Olin Brad?' +Then I can get readers for anything I choose to write. Look at +Champ Lawson. He can't write correct English, he never will, he uses +picturesque words in a connection that makes you doubt if he knows what +they mean. But he did a dare-devil thing picturesquely, and now the +publishers are at his feet. When I met him the other day he affected +to be bored with so much attention, and wished he had stuck to the +livery-stable. He began at seventeen by reporting a runaway from the +point of view of the hostler.” + +“Well,” said Philip, “isn't it quite in the line of the new movement +that we should have an introspective hostler, who perhaps obeys Sir +Philip Sidney's advice, 'Look into your heart and write'? I chanced +the other night in a company of the unconventional and illuminated, the +'poster' set in literature and art, wild-eyed and anaemic young women +and intensely languid, 'nil admirari' young men, the most advanced +products of the studios and of journalism. It was a very interesting +conclave. Its declared motto was, 'We don't read, we write.' And +the members were on a constant strain to say something brilliant, +epigrammatic, original. The person who produced the most outre sentiment +was called 'strong.' The women especially liked no writing that was not +'strong.' The strongest man in the company, and adored by the women, was +the poet-artist Courci Cleves, who always seems to have walked straight +out of a fashion-plate, much deferred to in this set, which affects +to defer to nothing, and a thing of beauty in the theatre lobbies. Mr. +Cleves gained much applause for his well-considered wish that all +that has been written in the world, all books and libraries, could be +destroyed, so as to give a chance to the new men and the fresh ideas of +the new era.” + +“My dear sir,” said Brad, who did not like this caricature of his +friends, “you don't make any allowance for the eccentricities of +genius.” + +“You would hit it nearer if you said I didn't make allowance for the +eccentricities without genius,” retorted Philip. + +“Well,” replied Mr. Brad, taking his leave, “you don't understand your +world. You go your own way and see where you will come out.” + +And when Philip reflected on it, he wondered if it were not rash to +offend those who had the public ear, and did up the personals and minor +criticisms for the current prints. He was evidently out of view. +No magazine paper of his had gained the slightest notice from these +sublimated beings, who discovered a new genius every month. + +A few nights after this conversation Mr. Brad was in uncommon spirits at +dinner. + +“Anything special turned up?” asked Philip. + +“Oh, nothing much. I've thrown away the chance of the biggest kind of a +novel of American life. Only it wouldn't keep. You look in the Spectrum +tomorrow morning. You'll see something interesting.” + +“Is it a--” and Philip's incredulous expression supplied the word. + +“No, not a bit. And the public is going to be deceived this time, sure, +expecting a fake. You know Mavick?” + +“I've heard of him--the operator, a millionaire.” + +“A good many times. Used to be minister or consul or something at Rome. +A great swell. It's about his daughter, Evelyn, a stunning girl about +sixteen or seventeen--not out yet.” + +“I hope it's no scandal.” + +“No, no; she's all right. It's the way she's brought up--shows what +we've come to. They say she's the biggest heiress in America and +a raving beauty, the only child. She has been brought up like the +Kohinoor, never out of somebody's sight. She has never been alone one +minute since she was born. Had three nurses, and it was the business of +one of them, in turn, to keep an eye on her. Just think of that. Never +was out of the sight of somebody in her life. Has two maids now--always +one in the room, night and day.” + +“What for?” + +“Why, the parents are afraid she'll be kidnapped, and held for a big +ransom. No, I never saw her, but I've got the thing down to a dot. +Wouldn't I like to interview her, though, get her story, how the world +looks to her. Under surveillance for sixteen years! The 'Prisoner of +Chillon' is nothing to it for romance.” + +“Just the facts are enough, I should say.” + +“Yes, facts make a good basis, sometimes. I've got 'em all in, but of +course I've worked the thing up for all it is worth. You'll see. I kept +it one day to try and get a photograph. We've got the house and Mavick, +but the girl's can't be found, and it isn't safe to wait. We are going +to blow it out tomorrow morning.” + + + + +VI + +The Mavick mansion was on Fifth Avenue in the neighborhood of Central +Park. It was one of the buildings in the city that strangers were always +taken to see. In fact, this was a palace not one kind of a palace, but +all kinds of a palace. The clever and ambitious architect of the house +had grouped all the styles of architecture he had ever seen, or of which +he had seen pictures. Here was not an architectural conception, like a +sonnet or a well-constructed novel, but if all the work could have been +spread out in line, in all its variety, there would have been produced +a panorama. The sight of the mansion always caused wonder and generally +ignorant admiration. Its vastness and splendor were felt to be somehow +typical of the New World and of the cosmopolitan city. + +The cost, in the eyes of the spectators, was a great part of its merits. +No doubt this was a fabulous sum. “You can form a little idea of it,” + said a gentleman to his country friend, “when I tell you that that +little bit there, that little corner of carving and decoration, cost two +hundred thousand dollars! I had this from the architect himself.” + +“My!” + +The interior was as fully representative of wealth and of the ambition +to put under one roof all the notable effects of all the palaces in the +world. But it had, what most palaces have not, all the requisites for +luxurious living. The variety of styles in the rooms was bewildering. +Artists of distinction, both foreign and native, had vied with each +other in the decoration of the rooms given over to the display of +their genius. All paganism and all Christianity, history, myth, and the +beauties of nature were spread upon the walls and ceilings. Rare woods, +rare marbles, splendid textures, the product of ancient handiwork and +modern looms, added a certain dignity to the more airy creations of the +artists. Many of the rooms were named from the nations whose styles +of decoration and furnishing were imitated in them, but others had the +simple designation of the gold room, the silver room, the lapis-lazuli +room, and so on. It was not only the show-rooms, the halls, passages, +stairways, and galleries (both of pictures and of curios) that were thus +enriched, but the boudoirs, retiring-rooms, and more private apartments +as well. It was not simply a house of luxury, but of all the comfort +that modern invention can furnish. It was said that the money lavished +upon one or two of the noble apartments would have built a State-house +(though not at Albany), and that the fireplace in the great hall cost +as much as an imitation mediaeval church. These were the things talked +about, and yet the portions of this noble edifice, rich as they were, +habitually occupied by the family had another character--the attractions +and conveniences of what we call a home. Mrs. Mavick used to say that +in her apartments she found refuge in a sublimated domesticity. Mavick's +own quarters--not the study off the library where he received visitors +whom it was necessary to impress--had an executive appearance, and were, +in the necessary appliances, more like the interior bureau of a board +of trade. In fact, the witty brokers who were admitted to its mysteries +called it the bucket-shop. + +Mr. Brad's article on “A Prisoned Millionaire” more than equaled +Philip's expectations. No such “story” had appeared in the city press +in a long time. It was what was called, in the language of the period, a +work of art--that is, a sensation, heightened by all the words of color +in the language, applied not only to material things, but to states and +qualities of mind, such as “purple emotions” and “scarlet intrepidity.” + It was also exceedingly complimentary. Mavick himself was one of the +powers and pillars of American society, and the girl was an exquisite +exhibition of woodland bloom in the first flush of spring-time. As he +read it over, Philip thought what a fine advertisement it is to every +impecunious noble in Europe. + +That morning, before going to his office, Philip strolled up Fifth +Avenue to look at that now doubly, famous mansion. Many others, it +appeared, were moved by the same curiosity. There was already a crowd +assembled. A couple of policemen, on special duty, patrolled the +sidewalk in front in order to keep a passage open, and perhaps to +prevent a too impudent inspection. Opposite the house, on the sidewalk +and on door-steps, was a motley throng, largely made up of toughs and +roughs from the East Side, good-natured spectators who merely wanted to +see this splendid prison, and a moving line of gentlemen and ladies who +simply happened to be passing that way at this time. The curbstone was +lined with a score of reporters of the city journals, each with his +note-book. Every window and entrance was eagerly watched. It was hoped +that one of the family might be seen, or that some servant might appear +who could be interviewed. Upon the windows supposed by the reporters +to be those from which the heiress looked, a strict watch was kept. The +number, form, and location of these windows were accurately noted, the +stuff of the curtains described in the phrase of the upholsterer, and +much good language was devoted to the view from these windows. The +shrewdest of the reporters had already sought information as to the +interior from the flower dealers, from upholsterers, from artists who +had been employed in the decorations, and had even assailed, in the name +of the rights of the public whom they represented, the architects of the +building; but their chief reliance was upon the waiters furnished by the +leading caterers on occasions of special receptions and great dinners, +and milliners and dress-makers, who had penetrated the more domestic +apartments. By reason of this extraordinary article in the newspaper, +the public had acquired the right to know all about the private life of +the Mavick family. + +This right was not acknowledged by Mr. Mavick and his family. Of course +the object of the excitement was wholly ignorant of the cause of it, +as no daily newspaper was ever seen by her that had not been carefully +inspected by the trusted and intelligent governess. The crowd in front +of the mansion was accounted for by the statement that a picture of +it had appeared in one of the low journals, and there was naturally +a curiosity to see it. And Evelyn was told that this was one of the +penalties a man paid for being popular. + +Mrs. Mavick, who seldom lost her head, was thoroughly frightened and +upset, and it was a rare occasion that could upset the equanimity of +the late widow, Mrs. Carmen Henderson. She gave way to her passion and +demanded that the offending editor should be pursued with the utmost +rigor of the law. Mr. Mavick was not less annoyed and angry, but he +smiled when his wife talked of pursuing the press with the utmost rigor +of the law, and said that he would give the matter prompt attention. +That day he had an interview with the editor of the Daily Spectrum; +which was satisfactory to both parties. The editor would have said that +Mavick behaved like a gentleman. The result of the interview appeared in +the newspaper of the following morning. + +Mr. Mavick had requested that the offending reporter should be +cautioned; he was too wise to have further attention called to the +matter by demanding his dismissal. Accordingly the reporter was severely +reprimanded, and then promoted. + +The editorial, which was written by Mr. Olin Brad, and was in his best +Macaulay style, began somewhat humorously by alluding to the curious +interest of the public in ancient history, citing Mr. Froude and +Mr. Carlyle, and the legend of Casper Hauser. It was true, gradually +approaching the case in point, that uncommon precautions had been taken +in the early years of the American heiress, and it was the romance of +the situation that had been laid before the readers of the Spectrum. +But there had been really no danger in our chivalrous, free American +society, and all these precautions were long a thing of the past (which +was not true). In short, with elaboration and great skill, and some +humor, the exaggerations of the former article were minimized, and put +in an airy and unsubstantial light. And then this friend of the people, +this exposer of abuses and champion of virtue, turned and justly scored +the sensational press for prying into the present life of one of the +first families in the country. + +Incidentally, it was mentioned that the ladies of the family had before +this incident bespoken their passage for their annual visit to Europe, +and that this affair had not disturbed their arrangements (which also +was not true). This casual announcement was intended to draw away +attention from the Fifth Avenue house, and to notify the roughs that it +would be useless to lay any plans. + +The country press, which had far and wide printed the interesting +story, softened it in accordance with the later development. Possibly +no intelligent person was deceived, but in the estimation of the mass +of the people the Spectrum increased its reputation for enterprise and +smartness and gave also an impression of its fairness. The manager, +told Mr. Brad that the increased sales of the two days permitted the +establishment to give him a vacation of two weeks on full pay, and +during these weeks the manager himself set up a neat and modest +brougham. + +All of which events, only partially understood, Mr. Philip Burnett +revolved in his mind, and wondered if what was called success was worth +the price paid for it. + + + + +VII + +The name of Thomas Mavick has lost the prominence and significance it +had at the time the events recorded in this history were taking place. +It seems incredible that the public should so soon have lost interest in +him. His position in the country was most conspicuous. No name was more +frequently in the newspapers. No other person not in official life was +so often interviewed. The reporters instinctively turned to him for +information in matters financial, concerning deals, and commercial, +which were so commonly connected with political, enterprises. No loan +was negotiated without consulting him, no operation was considered safe +without knowing how he was affected towards it, and to ascertain what +Mavick was doing or thinking was a constant anxiety in the Street. Of +course the opinion of a man so powerful was very important in politics, +and any church or sect would be glad to have his support. The fact that +he and his family worshiped regularly at St. Agnes's was a guarantee of +the stability of that church, and incidentally marked the success of the +Christian religion in the metropolis. + +But the condition of the presence in the public mind of the name of a +great operator and accumulator of money who is merely that is either +that he go on accumulating, so that the magnitude of his wealth has few +if any rivals, or that his name become synonymous with some gigantic +cleverness, if not rascality, so that it is used as an adjective after +he and his wealth have disappeared from the public view. It is different +with the reputation of an equally great financier who has used his +ability for the service of his country. There is no Valhalla for the +mere accumulators of money. They are fortunate if their names are +forgotten, and not remembered as illustrations of colossal selfishness. + +Mavick may have been the ideal of many a self-made man, but he did +not make his fortune--he married it. And it was suspected that the +circumstances attending that marriage put him in complete control of it. +He came into possession, however, with cultivated shrewdness and tact +and large knowledge of the world, the world of diplomacy as well as of +business. And under his manipulation the vast fortune so acquired was +reported to have been doubled. It was at any rate almost fabulous in the +public estimation. + +When the charming widow of the late Rodney Henderson, then sojourning in +Rome, placed her attractive self and her still more attractive fortune +in the hands of Mr. Thomas Mavick, United States Minister to the Court +of Italy, she attained a position in the social world which was in +accord with her ambition, and Mavick acquired the means of making the +mission, in point of comparison with the missions of the other powers +at the Italian capital, a credit to the Great Republic. The match was +therefore a brilliant one, and had a sort of national importance. + +Those who knew Mrs. Mavick in the remote past, when she was the +fascinating and not definitely placed Carmen Eschelle, and who also knew +Mr. Mavick when he was the confidential agent of Rodney Henderson, knew +that their union was a convenient and material alliance, in which the +desire of each party to enjoy in freedom all the pleasures of the world +could be gratified while retaining the social consideration of the +world. Both had always been circumspect. And it may be added, for the +information of strangers, that they thoroughly knew each other, and were +participants in a knowledge that put each at disadvantage, so that their +wedded life was a permanent truce. This bond of union was not ideal, and +not the best for the creation of individual character, but it avoided an +exhibition of those public antagonisms which so grieve and disturb the +even flow of the current of society, and give occasion to so much witty +comment on the institution of marriage itself. + +When, some two years after Mr. Mavick relinquished the mission to Italy +to another statesman who had done some service to the opposite party, +an heiress was born to the house of Mavick, her appearance in the +world occasioned some disappointment to those who had caused it. +Mavick naturally wished a son to inherit his name and enlarge the gold +foundation upon which its perpetuity must rest; and Mrs. Mavick as +naturally shrank from a responsibility that promised to curtail freedom +of action in the life she loved. Carmen--it was an old saying of the +danglers in the time of Henderson--was a domestic woman except in her +own home. + +However, it is one of the privileges of wealth to lighten the cares +and duties of maternity, and the enlarged household was arranged upon a +basis that did not interfere with the life of fashion and the charitable +engagements of the mother. Indeed, this adaptable woman soon found that +she had become an object of more than usual interest, by her latest +exploit, in the circles in which she moved, and her softened manner and +edifying conversation showed that she appreciated her position. Even +the McTavishes, who were inclined to be skeptical, said that Carmen was +delightful in her new role. This showed that the information Mrs. Mavick +got from the women who took care of her baby was of a kind to touch the +hearts of mothers and spinsters. + +Moreover, the child was very pretty, and early had winning ways. The +nurse, before the baby was a year old, discovered in her the cleverness +of the father and the grace and fascination of the mother. And it must +be said that, if she did not excite passionate affection at first, she +enlisted paternal and maternal pride in her career. It dawned upon both +parents that a daughter might give less cause for anxiety than a son, +and that in an heiress there were possibilities of an alliance that +would give great social distinction. Considering, therefore, all that +she represented, and the settled conviction of Mrs. Mavick that she +would be the sole inheritor of the fortune, her safety and education +became objects of the greatest anxiety and precaution. + +It happened that about the time Evelyn was christened there was a +sort of epidemic of stealing children, and of attempts to rob tombs of +occupants who had died rich or distinguished, in the expectation of +a ransom. The newspapers often chronicled mysterious disappearances; +parents whose names were conspicuous suffered great anxiety, and +extraordinary precautions were taken in regard to the tombs of public +men. And this was the reason that the heiress of the house of Mavick +became the object of a watchful vigilance that was probably never before +exercised in a republic, and that could only be paralleled in the case +of a sole heir-apparent of royalty. + +These circumstances resulted in an interference with the laws of nature +which it must be confessed destroyed one of the most interesting studies +in heredity that was ever offered to an historian of social life. What +sort of a child had we a right to expect from Thomas Mavick, diplomatist +and operator, successor to the rights and wrongs of Rodney Henderson, +and Carmen Mavick, with the past of Carmen Eschelle and Mrs. Henderson? +Those who adhered to the strictest application of heredity, in +considering the natural development of Evelyn Mavick, sought refuge +in the physiological problem of the influence of Rodney Henderson, and +declared that something of his New England sturdiness and fundamental +veracity had been imparted to the inheritor of his great fortune. + +But the visible interference took the form of Ann McDonald, a Scotch +spinster, to whom was intrusted the care of Evelyn as soon as she was +christened. It was merely a piece of good fortune that brought a person +of the qualifications of Ann McDonald into the family, for it is not to +be supposed that Mrs. Mavick had given any thought to the truth that +the important education of a child begins in its cradle, or that in +selecting a care-taker and companion who should later on be a governess +she was consulting her own desire of freedom from the duties of a +mother. It was enough for her that the applicant for the position had +the highest recommendations, that she was prepossessing in appearance, +and it was soon perceived that the guardian was truthful, faithful, +vigilant, and of an affectionate disposition and an innate refinement. + +Ann McDonald was the only daughter of a clergyman of the Scotch Church, +and brought up in the literary atmosphere common in the most cultivated +Edinburgh homes. She had been accurately educated, and always with the +knowledge that her education might be her capital in life. After the +death of her mother, when she was nineteen, she had been her father's +housekeeper, and when in her twenty-fourth year her father relinquished +his life and his salary, she decided, under the advice of influential +friends, to try her fortune in America. And she never doubted that it +was a providential guidance that brought her into intimate relations +with the infant heiress. It seemed probable that a woman so attractive +and so solidly accomplished would not very long remain a governess, but +in fact her career was chosen from the moment she became interested in +the development of the mind and character of the child intrusted to her +care. It is difficult to see how our modern life would go on as well as +it does if there were not in our homes a good many such faithful souls. +It sometimes seems, in this shifting world, that about the best any of +us can do is to prepare some one else for doing something well. + +Miss McDonald had a pretty comprehensive knowledge of English literature +and history, and, better perhaps than mere knowledge, a discriminating +and cultivated taste. If her religious education had twisted her view +of the fine arts, she had nevertheless a natural sympathy for the +beautiful, and she would not have been a Scotchwoman if she had not +had a love for the romances of her native land and at heart a “ballad” + sentiment for the cavaliers. If Evelyn had been educated by her in +Edinburgh, she might have been in sentiment a young Jacobite. She had +through translations a sufficient knowledge of the classics to give her +the necessary literary background, and her study of Latin had led her +into the more useful acquisition of French. + +If she had been free to indulge her own taste, she would have gone far +in natural history, as was evident from her mastery of botany and her +interest in birds. + +She inspired so much confidence by her good sense, clear-headedness, and +discretion, that almost from the first Evelyn was confided to her sole +care, with only the direction that the baby was never for an instant, +night or day, to be left out of the sight of a trusty attendant. The +nurse was absolutely under her orders, she selected the two maids, and +no person except the parents and the governess could admit visitors to +the nursery. This perfect organization was maintained for many years, +and though it came to be relaxed in details, it was literally true that +the heiress was never alone, and never out of the sight of some +trusted person responsible for her safety. But whatever the changes or +relaxation, in holidays, amusements, travel, or education, the person +who formed her mind was the one who had taught her to obey, to put words +together into language, and to speak the truth, from infancy. + +It is not necessary to consider Ann McDonald as a paragon. She was +simply an intelligent, disciplined woman, with a strong sense of duty. +If she had married and gone about the ordinary duties of life at the +age of twenty-four, she would probably have been in no marked way +distinguished among women. Her own development was largely due to the +responsibility that was put upon her in the training of another person. +In this sense it was true that she had learned as much as she had +imparted. And in nothing was this more evident than in the range of her +literary taste and judgment. Whatever risks, whatever latitude she might +have been disposed to take with regard to her own mind, she would not +take as to the mind of another, and as a consequence her own standards +rose to meet the situation. That is to say, in a conscientious selection +of only the best for Evelyn, she became more fastidious as to the food +for her own mind. Or, to put it in still another way, in regard to +character and culture generally, the growth of Miss McDonald could be +measured by that of Evelyn. + +When, from the time Evelyn was seven years old, it became necessary +in her education to call in special tutors in the languages and +in mathematics, and in certain arts that are generally called +accomplishments, Miss McDonald was always present when the lessons were +given, so that she maintained her ascendency and her influence in the +girl's mind. It was this inseparable companionship, at least in all +affairs of the mind, that gave to this educational experiment an +exceptional interest to students of psychology. Nothing could be more +interesting than to come into contact with a mind that from infancy +onward had dwelt only upon what is noblest in literature, and from which +had been excluded all that is enervating and degrading. A remarkable +illustration of this is the familiar case of Helen Keller, whose +acquisitions, by reason of her blindness and deafness, were limited to +what was selected for her, and that mainly by one person, and she was +therefore for a long time shielded from a knowledge of the evil side of +life. Yet all vital literature is so close to life, and so full of its +passion and peril, that it supplies all the necessary aliment for the +growth of a sound, discriminating mind; and that knowledge of the world, +as knowledge of evil is euphemistically called, can be safely left +out of a good education. This may be admitted without going into the +discussion whether good principles and standards in literature and +morals are a sufficient equipment for the perils of life. + +This experiment, of course, was limited in Evelyn's case. She came +in contact with a great deal of life. Her little world was fairly +representative, for it contained her father, her mother, her governess, +the maids and the servants, and occasional visitors, whom she saw freely +as she grew older. The interesting fact was that she was obliged to +judge this world according to the standards of literature, morals, and +manners that had been implanted in her mainly by the influence of one +person. The important part of this experiment of partial exclusion, +in which she was never alone' an experiment undertaken solely for +her safety and not for her training-was seen in her when she became +conscious of its abnormal character, and perceived that she was always +under surveillance. It might have made her exceedingly morbid, +aside from its effect of paralyzing her self-confidence and power of +initiation, had it not been for the exceptionally strong and cheerful +nature of her companion. A position more hateful, even to a person not +specially socially inclined, cannot be imagined than that of always +being watched, and never having any assured privacy. And under such a +tutelage and dependence, how in any event could she be able to take care +of herself? What weapons had this heiress of a great fortune with +which to defend herself? What sort of a girl had this treatment during +seventeen years produced? + + + + +VIII + + +To the private apartment of Mr. Mavick, in the evening of the second +eventful day, where, over his after-dinner cigar, he was amusing himself +with a French novel, enters, after a little warning tap, the mistress of +the house, for, what was a rare occurrence, a little family chat. + +“So you didn't horsewhip and you didn't prosecute. You preferred to +wriggle out!” + +“Yes,” said Mavick, too much pleased with the result to be belligerent, +“I let the newspaper do the wriggling.” + +“Oh, my dear, I can trust you for that. Have you any idea how it got +hold of the details?” + +“No; you don't think McDonald--” + +“McDonald! I'd as soon suspect myself. So would you.” + +“Well, everybody knew it already, for that matter. I only wonder that +some newspaper didn't get on to it before. What did Evelyn say?” + +“Nothing more than what you heard at dinner. She thought it amusing +that there should be such a crowd to gaze at the house, simply because +a picture of it had appeared in a newspaper. She thought her father must +be a very important personage. I didn't undeceive her. At times, you +know, dear, I think so myself.” + +“Yes, I've noticed that,” said Mavick, with a good-natured laugh, in +which Carmen joined, “and those times usually coincide with the times +that you want something specially.” + +“You ought to be ashamed to take me up that way. I just wanted to talk +about the coming-out reception. You know I had come over to your opinion +that seventeen was perhaps better than eighteen, considering Evelyn's +maturity. When I was seventeen I was just as good as I am now.” + +“I don't doubt it,” said Mavick, with another laugh. + +“But don't you see this affair upsets all our arrangements? It's very +vexatious.” + +“I don't see it exactly. By-the-way, what do you think of the escape +suggested by the Spectrum, in the assertion that you and Evelyn had +arranged to go to Europe? The steamer sails tomorrow.” + +“Think!” exclaimed Carmen. “Do you think I am going to be run, as you +call it, by the newspapers? They run everything else. I'm not politics, +I'm not an institution, I'm not even a revolution. No, I thank you. It +answers my purpose for them to say we have gone.” + +“I suppose you can keep indoors a few days. As to the reception, I +had arranged my business for it. I may be in Mexico or Honolulu the +following winter.” + +“Well, we can't have it now. You see that.” + +“Carmen, I don't care a rap what the public thinks or says. The child's +got to face the world some time, and look out for herself. I fancy she +will not like it as much as you did.” + +“Very likely. Perhaps I liked it because I had to fight it. Evelyn never +will do that.” + +“She hasn't the least idea what the world is like.” + +“Don't you be too sure of that, my dear; you don't understand yet what +a woman feels and knows. You think she only sees and thinks what she is +told. The conceit of men is most amusing about this. Evelyn is deeper +than you think. The discrimination of that child sometimes positively +frightens me--how she sees into things. It wouldn't surprise me a bit if +she actually knew her father and mother!” + +“Then she beats me,” said Mavick, with another laugh, “and I've been at +it a long time. Carmen, just for fun, tell me a little about your early +life.” + +“Well”--there was a Madonna-like smile on her lips, and she put out the +toe of her slender foot and appeared to study it for a moment--“I was +intended to be a nun.” + +“Spanish or French?” + +“Just a plain nun. But mamma would not hear of it. Mamma was just a bit +worldly.” + +“I never should have suspected it,” said Mavick, with equal gravity. +“But how did you live in those early days, way back there?” + +“Oh!” and Carmen looked up with the most innocent, open-eyed expression, +“we lived on our income.” + +“Naturally. We all try to do that.” The tone in Mavick's voice showed +that he gave it up. + +“But, of course,” and Carmen was lively again, “it's much nicer to have +a big income that's certain than a small one that is uncertain.” + +“It would seem so.” + +“Ah, deary me, it's such a world! Don't you think, dear, that we have +had enough domestic notoriety for one year?” + +“Quite. It would do for several.” + +“And we will put it off a year?” + +“Arrange as you like.” And Mavick stretched up his arms, half yawned, +and took up another cigar. + +“It will be such a relief to McDonald. She insisted it was too soon.” + And Carmen whirled out of her chair, went behind her husband, lifted +with her delicate fingers a lock of grayish hair on his forehead, +deposited the lightest kiss there--“Nobody in the world knows how good +you are except me,” and was gone. + +And the rich man, who had gained everything he wanted in life except +happiness, lighted his cigar and sought refuge in a tale of modern life, +that was, however, too much like his own history to be consoling. + +It must not be supposed from what she said that Mrs. Mavick stood in +fear of her daughter, but it was only natural that for a woman of the +world the daily contact of a pure mind should be at times inconvenient. +This pure mind was an awful touchstone of conduct, and there was a fear +that Evelyn's ignorance of life would prevent her from making the proper +allowances. In her affectionate and trusting nature, which suspected +little evil anywhere, there was no doubt that her father and mother had +her entire confidence and love. But the likelihood was that she would +not be pliant. Under Miss McDonald's influence she had somewhat abstract +notions of what is right and wrong, and she saw no reason why these +should not be applied in all cases. What her mother would have called +policy and reasonable concessions she would have given different names. +For getting on in the world, this state of mind has its disadvantages, +and in the opinion of practical men, like Mavick, it was necessary to +know good and evil. But it was the girl's power of discernment that +bothered her mother, who used often to wonder where the child came from. + +On the other hand, it must not be supposed that the singular training of +Evelyn had absolutely destroyed her inherited tendencies, or made her as +she was growing into womanhood anything but a very real woman, with the +reserves, the weaknesses, the coquetries, the defenses which are the +charm of her sex. Nor was she so ignorant of life as such a guarded +personality might be thought. Her very wide range of reading had +liberalized her mind, and given her a much wider outlook upon the +struggles and passions and failures and misery of life than many another +girl of her age had gained by her limited personal experience. Those who +hold the theory that experience is the only guide are right as a matter +of fact, since every soul seems determined to try for itself and not to +accept the accumulated wisdom of literature or of experienced advisers; +but those who come safely out of their experiences are generally sound +by principle which has been instilled in youth. But it is useless to +moralize. Only the event could show whether such an abnormal training as +Evelyn had received was wise. + +When Mrs. Mavick went to her daughter's apartments she found Evelyn +reading aloud and Miss McDonald at work on an elaborate piece of +Bulgarian embroidery. + +“How industrious! What a rebuke to me!” + +“I don't see, mamma, how we could be doing less; I've only an audience +of one, and she is wasting her time.” + +“Well, carissima, it is settled. It's off for a year.” + +“The reception? Why so?” + +“Your father cannot arrange it. He has too much on hand this season, and +may be away.” + +“There, McDonald, we've got a reprieve,” and Evelyn gave a sigh of +relief. + +The Scotch woman smiled, and only said, “Then I shall have time to +finish this.” + +Evelyn jumped up, threw herself into her mother's lap, and began to +smooth her hair and pet her. “I'm awfully glad. I'd ever so much rather +stay in than come out. Yes, dear little mother.” + +“Little?” + +“Yes.” And the girl pulled her mother from her chair, and made her stand +up to measure. “See, McDonald, almost an inch taller than mamma, and +when I do my hair on top!” + +“And see, mamma”--the girl was pirouetting on the floor--“I can do those +steps you do. Isn't it Spanish?” + +“Rather Spanish-American, I guess. This is the way.” + +Evelyn clapped her hands. “Isn't that lovely!” + +“You are only a little brownie, after all.” Her mother was holding her +at arm's--length and studying her critically, wondering if she would +ever be handsome. + +The girl was slender, but not tall. Her figure had her mother's grace, +but not its suggestion of yielding suppleness. She was an undoubted +brunette--complexion olive, hair very dark, almost black except in the +sunlight, and low on her forehead-chin a little strong, and nose piquant +to say the least of it. Certainly features not regular nor classic. The +mouth, larger than her mother's, had full lips, the upper one short, and +admirable curves, strong in repose, but fascinating when she smiled. A +face not handsome, but interesting. And the eyes made you hesitate +to say she was not handsome, for they were large, of a dark hazel and +changeable, eyes that flashed with merriment, or fell into sadness under +the long eyelashes; and it would not be safe to say that they could not +blaze with indignation. Not a face to go wild about, but when you felt +her character through it, a face very winning in its dark virgin purity. + +“I do wonder where she came from?” Mrs. Mavick was saying to herself, +as she threw herself upon a couch in her own room and took up the latest +Spanish novel. + + + + +IX + +Celia Howard had been, in a way, Philip's inspiration ever since the +days when they quarreled and made up on the banks of the Deer field. And +a fortunate thing for him it was that in his callow years there was a +woman in whom he could confide. Her sympathy was everything, even if +her advice was not always followed. In the years of student life +and preparation they had not often met, but they were constant and +painstaking correspondents. It was to her that he gave the running +chronicle of his life, and poured out his heart and aspirations. +Unconsciously he was going to school to a woman, perhaps the most +important part of his education. For, though in this way he might never +hope to understand woman, he was getting most valuable knowledge of +himself. + +As a guide, Philip was not long in discovering that Celia was somewhat +uncertain. She kept before him a very high ideal; she expected him to be +distinguished and successful, but, her means varied from time to time. +Now she would have him take one path and now another. And Philip learned +to read in this varying advice the changes in her own experience. There +was a time when she hoped he would be a great scholar: there was no +position so noble as that of a university professor or president. Then +she turned short round and extolled the business life: get money, get a +position, and then you can study, write books, do anything you like +and be independent. Then came a time--this was her last year in +college--when science seemed the only thing. That was really a benefit +to mankind: create something, push discovery, dispel ignorance. + +“Why, Phil, if you could get people to understand about ventilation, the +necessity of pure air, you would deserve a monument. And, besides--this +is an appeal to your lower nature--science is now the thing that pays.” + Theology she never considered; that was just now too uncertain in its +direction. Law she had finally approved; it was still respectable; it +was a very good waiting-ground for many opportunities, and it did not +absolutely bar him from literature, for which she perceived he had a +sneaking fondness. + +Philip wondered if Celia was not thinking of the law for herself. She +had tried teaching, she had devoted herself for a time to work in a +College Settlement, she had learned stenography, she had talked of +learning telegraphy, she had been interested in women's clubs, in a +civic club, in the political education of women, and was now a professor +of economics in a girl's college. + +It finally dawned upon Philip, who was plodding along, man fashion, in +one of the old ruts, feeling his way, like a true American, into the +career that best suited him, that Celia might be a type of the awakened +American woman, who does not know exactly what she wants. To be sure, +she wants everything. She has recently come into an open place, and she +is distracted by the many opportunities. She has no sooner taken up +one than she sees another that seems better, or more important in the +development of her sex, and she flies to that. But nothing, long, seems +the best thing. Perhaps men are in the way, monopolizing all the best +things. Celia had never made a suggestion of this kind, but Philip +thought she was typical of the women who push individualism so far as +never to take a dual view of life. + +“I have just been,” Celia wrote in one of her letters, when she was +an active club woman, “out West to a convention of the Federation of +Women's Clubs. Such a striking collection of noble, independent women! +Handsome, lots of them, and dressed--oh, my friend, dress is still a +part of it! So different from a man's convention! Cranks? Yes, a few +left over. It was a fine, inspiring meeting. But, honestly, I could not +exactly make out what they were federating about, and what they were +going to do when they got federated. It sort of came over me, I am such +a weak sister, that there is such a lot of work done in this world with +no object except the doing of it.” + +A more recent letter:--“Do you remember Aunt Hepsy, who used to keep +the little thread-and-needle and candy shop in Rivervale? Such a dear, +sweet, contented old soul! Always a smile and a good word for every +customer. I can see her now, picking out the biggest piece of candy in +the dish that she could afford to give for a little fellow's cent. It +never came over me until lately how much good that old woman did in the +world. I remember what a comfort it was to go and talk with her. Well, I +am getting into a frame of mind to want to be an Aunt Hepsy. There is +so much sawdust in everything--No, I'm not low-spirited. I'm just +philosophical--I've a mind to write a life of Aunt Hepsy, and let the +world see what a real useful life is.” + +And here is a passage from the latest:--“What an interesting story your +friend--I hope he isn't you friend, for I don't half like him--has made +out of that Mavick girl! If I were the girl's mother I should want to +roast him over the coals. Is there any truth in it? + +“Of course I read it, as everybody did and read the crawl out, and +looked for more. So it is partly our fault, but what a shame it is, +the invasion of family life! Do tell me, if you happen to see her--the +girl--driving in the Park or anywhere--of course you never will--what +she looks like. I should like to see an unsophisticated millionaire-ess! +But it is an awfully interesting problem, invented or not I'm pretty +deep in psychology these days, and I'd give anything to come in contact +with that girl. You would just see a woman, and you wouldn't know. I'd +see a soul. Dear me, if I'd only had the chance of that Scotch woman! +Don't you see, if we could only get to really know one mind and soul, we +should know it all. I mean scientifically. I know what you are thinking, +that all women have that chance. What you think is impertinent--to the +subject.” + +Indeed, the story of Evelyn interested everybody. It was taken up +seriously in the country regions. It absorbed New York gossip for two +days, and then another topic took possession of the mercurial city; but +it was the sort of event to take possession of the country mind. New +York millionaires get more than their share of attention in the country +press at all times, but this romance became the subject of household +talk and church and sewing-circle gossip, and all the women were eager +for more details, and speculated endlessly about the possible character +and career of the girl. + +Alice wrote Philip from Rivervale that her aunt Patience was very much +excited by it. “'The poor thing,' she said, 'always to have somebody +poking round, seeing every blessed thing you do or don't do; it would +drive me crazy. There is that comfort in not having anything much--you +have yourself. You tell Philip that I hope he doesn't go there often. +I've no objection to his being kind to the poor thing when they meet, +and doing neighborly things, but I do hope he won't get mixed up with +that set.' It is very amusing,” Alice continued, “to hear Patience +soliloquize about it and construct the whole drama. + +“But you cannot say, Philip, that you are not warned (!) and you know +that Patience is almost a prophet in the way she has of putting things +together. Celia was here recently looking after the little house that +has been rented ever since the death of her mother. I never saw her look +so well and handsome, and yet there was a sort of air about her as if +she had been in public a good deal and was quite capable of taking care +of herself. But she was that way when she was little. + +“I think she is a good friend of yours. Well, Phil, if you do ever +happen to see that Evelyn in the opera, or anywhere, tell me how she +looks and what she has on--if you can.” + +The story had not specially interested Philip, except as it was +connected with Brad's newspaper prospects, but letters, like those +referred to, received from time to time, began to arouse a personal +interest. Of course merely a psychological interest, though the talk +here and there at dinner-tables stimulated his desire, at least, to see +the subject of them. But in this respect he was to be gratified, in the +usual way things desired happen in life--that is, by taking pains to +bring them about. + +When Mr. Brad came back from his vacation his manner had somewhat +changed. He had the air of a person who stands on firm ground. He felt +that he was a personage. He betrayed this in a certain deliberation of +speech, as if any remark from him now might be important. In a way he +felt himself related to public affairs. + +In short, he had exchanged the curiosity of the reporter for the +omniscience of the editor. And for a time Philip was restrained from +intruding the subject of the Mavick sensation. However, one day after +dinner he ventured: + +“I see, Mr. Brad, that your hit still attracts attention.” Mr. Brad +looked inquiringly blank. + +“I mean about the millionaire heiress. It has excited a wide interest.” + +“Ah, that! Yes, it gave me a chance,” replied Brad, who was thinking +only of himself. + +“I've had several letters about it from the country.” + +“Yes? Well, I suppose,” said Brad, modestly, “that a little country +notoriety doesn't hurt a person.” + +Philip did not tell his interlocutor that, so far as he knew, nobody in +the country had ever heard the name of Olin Brad, or knew there was such +a person in existence. But he went on: + +“Certainly. And, besides, there is a great curiosity to know about the +girl. Did you ever see her?” + +“Only in public. I don't know Mavick personally, and for reasons,” and +Mr. Brad laughed in a superior manner. “It's easy enough to see her.” + +“How?” + +“Watch out for a Wagner night, and go to the opera. You'll see where +Mavick's box is in the bill. She is pretty sure to be there, and her +mother. There is nothing special about her; but her mother is still +a very fascinating woman, I can tell you. You'll find her sure on a +'Carmen' night, but not so sure of the girl.” + +On this suggestion Philip promptly acted. The extra expense of an +orchestra seat he put down to his duty to keep his family informed of +anything that interested them in the city. It was a “Siegfried” night, +and a full house. To describe it all would be very interesting to Alice. +The Mavick box was empty until the overture was half through. Then +appeared a gentleman who looked as if he were performing a public duty, +a lady who looked as if she were receiving a public welcome, and seated +between them a dark, slender girl, who looked as if she did not see the +public at all, but only the orchestra. + +Behind them, in the shadow, a middle-aged woman in plainer attire. It +must be the Scotch governess. Mrs. Mavick had her eyes everywhere about +the house, and was graciously bowing to her friends. Mr. Mavick coolly +and unsympathetically regarded the house, quite conscious of it, but +as if he were a little bored. You could not see him without being aware +that he was thinking of other things, probably of far-reaching schemes. +People always used to say of Mavick, when he was young and a clerk in a +Washington bureau, that he looked omniscient. At least the imagination +of spectators invested him with a golden hue, and regarded him through +the roseate atmosphere that surrounds a many-millioned man. The girl had +her eyes always on the orchestra, and was waiting for the opening of +the world that lay behind the drop-curtain. Philip noticed that all the +evening Mrs. Mavick paid very little attention to the stage, except when +the rest of the house was so dark that she could distinguish little in +it. + +Fortunately for Philip, in his character of country reporter, the Mavick +box was near the stage, and he could very well see what was going on +in it, without wholly distracting his attention from Wagner's sometimes +very dimly illuminated creation. + +There are faces and figures that compel universal attention and +admiration. Commonly there is one woman in a theatre at whom all glances +are leveled. It is a mystery why one face makes only an individual +appeal, and an appeal much stronger than that of one universally +admired. The house certainly concerned itself very little about the shy +and dark heiress in the Mavick box, having with regard to her only a +moment's curiosity. But the face instantly took hold of Philip. He found +it more interesting to read the play in her face than on the stage. He +seemed instantly to have established a chain of personal sympathy with +her. So intense was his regard that it seemed as if she must, if there +is anything in the telepathic theory of the interchange of feeling, +have been conscious of it. That she was, however, unconscious of any +influence reaching her except from the stage was perfectly evident. +She was absorbed in the drama, even when the drama was almost lost in +darkness, and only an occasional grunting ejaculation gave evidence that +there was at least animal life responsive to the continual pleading, +suggesting, inspiring strains of the orchestra. In the semi-gloom +and groping of the under-world, it would seem that the girl felt that +mystery of life which the instruments were trying to interpret. + +At any rate, Philip could see that she was rapt away into that other +world of the past, to a practical unconsciousness of her immediate +surroundings. Was it the music or the poetic idea that held her? Perhaps +only the latter, for it is Wagner's gift to reach by his creations +those who have little technical knowledge of music. At any rate, she was +absorbed, and so perfectly was the progress of the drama repeated in her +face that Philip, always with the help of the orchestra, could trace it +there. + +But presently something more was evident to this sympathetic student +of her face. She was not merely discovering the poet's world, she was +finding out herself. As the drama unfolded, Philip was more interested +in this phase than in the observation of her enjoyment and appreciation. +To see her eyes sparkle and her cheeks glow with enthusiasm during the +sword-song was one thing, but it was quite another when Siegfried began +his idyl, that nature and bird song of the awakening of the whole being +to the passion of love. Then it was that Evelyn's face had a look +of surprise, of pain, of profound disturbance; it was suffused with +blushes, coming and going in passionate emotion; the eyes no longer +blazed, but were softened in a melting tenderness of sympathy, and her +whole person seemed to be carried into the stream of the great life +passion. When it ceased she sank back in her seat, and blushed still +more, as if in fear that some one had discovered her secret. + +Afterwards, when Philip had an opportunity of knowing Evelyn Mavick, and +knowing her very well, and to some extent having her confidence, he used +to say to himself that he had little to learn--the soul of the woman was +perfectly revealed to him that night of “Siegfried.” + +As the curtain went down, Mrs. Mavick, whose attention had not been +specially given to the artists before, was clapping her hands in a great +state of excitement. + +“Why don't you applaud, child?” + +“Oh, mother,” was all the girl could say, with heaving breast and +downcast eyes. + + + + +X + +All winter long that face seemed to get between Philip and his work. It +was an inspiration to his pen when it ran in the way of literature, +but a distinct damage to progress in his profession. He had seen Evelyn +again, more than once, at the opera, and twice been excited by a passing +glimpse of her on a crisp, sunny afternoon in the Mavick carriage in +the Park-always the same bright, eager face. So vividly personal was +the influence upon him that it seemed impossible that she should not be +aware of it--impossible that she could not know there was such a person +in the world as Philip Burnett. + +Fortunately youth can create its own world. Between the secluded +daughter of millions and the law clerk was a great gulf, but this did +not prevent Evelyn's face, and, in moments of vanity, Evelyn herself, +from belonging to Philip's world. He would have denied--we have a habit +of lying to ourselves quite as much as to others--that he ever dreamed +of possessing her, but nevertheless she entered into his thoughts and +his future in a very curious way. If he saw himself a successful lawyer, +her image appeared beside him. If his story should gain the public +attention, and his occasional essays come to be talked of, it was +Evelyn's interest and approval that he caught himself thinking about. +And he had a conviction that she was one to be much more interested +in him as a man of letters than as a lawyer. This might be true. In +Philip's story, which was very slowly maturing, the heroine fell in love +with a young man simply for himself, and regardless of the fact that he +was poor and had his career to make. But he knew that if his novel ever +got published the critics would call it a romance, and not a transcript +of real life. Had not women ceased to be romantic and ceased to indulge +in vagaries of affection? + +Was it that Philip was too irresolute to cut either law or literature, +and go in, single-minded, for a fortune of some kind, and a place? Or +was it merely that he had confidence in the winning character of his +own qualities and was biding his time? If it was a question of making +himself acceptable to a woman--say a woman like Evelyn--was it not +belittling to his own nature to plan to win her by what he could make +rather than by what he was? + +Probably the vision he had of Evelyn counted for very little in his +halting decision. “Why don't you put her into a novel?” asked Mr. Brad +one evening. The suggestion was a shock. Philip conveyed the idea pretty +plainly that he hadn't got so low as that yet. “Ah, you fellows think +you must make your own material. You are higher-toned than old Dante.” + The fact was that Philip was not really halting. Every day he was +less and less in love with the law as it was practiced, and, courting +reputation, he would much rather be a great author than a great lawyer. +But he kept such thoughts to himself. He had inherited a very good stock +of common-sense. Apparently he devoted himself to his office work, and +about the occupation of his leisure hours no one was in his confidence +except Celia, and now and then, when he got something into print, Alice. +Professedly Celia was his critic, but really she was the necessary +appreciator, for probably most writers would come to a standstill if +there was no sympathetic soul to whom they could communicate, while they +were fresh, the teeming fancies of their brains. + +The winter wore along without any incident worth recording, but still +fruitful for the future, as Philip fondly hoped. And one day chance +threw in his way another sensation. Late in the afternoon of a spring +day he was sent from the office to Mavick's house with a bundle of +papers to be examined and signed. + +“You will be pretty sure to find him,” said Mr. Sharp, “at home about +six. Wait till you do see him. The papers must be signed and go to +Washington by the night mail.” + +Mr. Mavick was in his study, and received Philip very civilly, as the +messenger of his lawyers, and was soon busy in examining the documents, +flinging now and then a short question to Philip, who sat at the table +near him. + +Suddenly there was a tap at the door, and, not waiting for a summons, a +young girl entered, and stopped after a couple of steps. + +“Oh, I didn't know--” + +“What is it, dear?” said Mr. Mavick, looking up a moment, and then down +at the papers. + +“Why, about the coachman's baby. I thought perhaps--” She had a paper in +her hand, and advanced towards the table, and then stopped, seeing that +her father was not alone. + +Philip rose involuntarily. Mr. Mavick looked up quickly. “Yes, +presently. I've just now got a little business with Mr. Burnett.” + +It was not an introduction. But for an instant the eyes of the young +people met. It seemed to Philip that it was a recognition. Certainly the +full, sweet eyes were bent on him for the second she stood there, before +turning away and leaving the room. And she looked just as true and sweet +as Philip dreamed she would look at home. He sat in a kind of maze +for the quarter of an hour while Mavick was affixing his signature and +giving some directions. He heard all the directions, and carried away +the papers, but he also carried away something else unknown to the +broker. After all, he found himself reflecting, as he walked down the +avenue, the practice of the law has its good moments! + +What was there in this trivial incident that so magnified it in +Philip's mind, day after day? Was it that he began to feel that he had +established a personal relation with Evelyn because she had seen him? +Nothing had really happened. Perhaps she had not heard his name, perhaps +she did not carry the faintest image of him out of the room with her. +Philip had read in romances of love at first sight, and he had personal +experience of it. Commonly, in romances, the woman gives no sign of it, +does not admit it to herself, denies it in her words and in her conduct, +and never owns it until the final surrender. “When was the first moment +you began to love me, dear?” “Why, the first moment, that day; didn't +you know it then?” This we are led to believe is common experience with +the shy and secretive sex. It is enough, in a thousand reported cases, +that he passed her window on horseback, and happened to look her way. +But with such a look! The mischief was done. But this foundation was too +slight for Philip to build such a hope on. + +Looking back, we like to trace great results to insignificant, momentary +incidents--a glance, a word, that turned the current of a life. There +was a definite moment when the thought came to Alexander that he +would conquer the world! Probably there was no such moment. The great +Alexander was restless, and at no initial instant did he conceive his +scheme of conquest. Nor was it one event that set him in motion. We +confound events with causes. It happened on such a day. Yes, but it +might have happened on another. But if Philip had not been sent on that +errand to Mavick probably Evelyn would never have met him. What +nonsense this is, and what an unheroic character it makes Philip! Is it +supposable that, with such a romance as he had developed about the girl, +he would not some time have come near her, even if she had been locked +up with all the bars and bolts of a safety deposit? + +The incident of this momentary meeting was, however, of great +consequence. There is no such feeder of love as the imagination. And +fortunate it was for Philip that his romance was left to grow in the +wonder-working process of his own mind. At first there had been merely +a curiosity in regard to a person whose history and education had been +peculiar. Then the sight of her had raised a strange tumult in his +breast, and his fancy began to play about her image, seen only at a +distance and not many times, until his imagination built up a being of +surpassing loveliness, and endowed with all the attractions that the +poets in all ages have given to the sex that inspires them. But this +sort of creation in the mind becomes vague, and related to literature +only, unless it is sustained by some reality. Even Petrarch must +occasionally see Laura at the church door, and dwell upon the veiled +dreamer that passed and perhaps paused a moment to regard him with sad +eyes. Philip, no doubt, nursed a genuine passion, which grew into an +exquisite ideal in the brooding of a poetic mind, but it might in +time have evaporated into thin air, remaining only as an emotional and +educational experience. But this moment in Mr. Mavick's library had +given a solid body to his imaginations, and a more definite turn to his +thought of her. + +If, in some ordinary social chance, Philip had encountered the heiress, +without this previous wonderworking of his imagination in regard to +her, the probability is that he would have seen nothing especially to +distinguish her from the other girls of her age and newness in social +experience. Certainly the thought that she was the possessor of +uncounted millions would have been, on his side, an insuperable barrier +to any advance. But the imagination works wonders truly, and Philip +saw the woman and not the heiress. She had become now a distinct +personality; to be desired above all things on earth, and that he should +see her again he had no doubt. + +This thought filled his mind, and even when he was not conscious of +it gave a sort of color to life, refined his perceptions, and gave him +almost sensuous delight in the masterpieces of poetry which had formerly +appealed only to his intellectual appreciation of beauty. + +He had not yet come to a desire to share his secret with any confidant, +but preferred to be much alone and muse on it, creating a world which +was without evil, without doubt, undisturbed by criticism. In this so +real dream it was the daily office work that seemed unreal, and the +company and gossip of his club a kind of vain show. He began to frequent +the picture-galleries, where there was at least an attempt to express +sentiment, and to take long walks to the confines of the city-confines +fringed with all the tender suggestions of the opening spring. Even the +monotonous streets which he walked were illumined in his eyes, glorified +by the fullness of life and achievement. “Yes,” he said again and again, +as he stood on the Heights, in view of the river, the green wall of +Jersey and the great metropolis spread away to the ocean gate, “it is a +beautiful city! And the critics say it is commonplace and vulgar.” + Dear dreamer, it is a beautiful city, and for one reason and another a +million of people who have homes there think so. But take out of it one +person, and it would have for you no more interest than any other +huge assembly of ugly houses. How, in a lover's eyes, the woman can +transfigure a city, a landscape, a country! + +Celia had come up to town for the spring exhibitions, and was lodging at +the Woman's Club. Naturally Philip saw much of her, indeed gave her all +his time that the office did not demand. Her company was always for him +a keen delight, an excitement, and in its way a rest. For though +she always criticised, she did not nag, and just because she made no +demands, nor laid any claims on him, nor ever reproached him for want of +devotion, her society was delightful and never dull. They dined together +at the Woman's Club, they experimented on the theatres, they visited the +galleries and the picture-shops, they took little excursions into +the suburbs and came back impressed with the general cheapness and +shabbiness, and they talked--talked about all they saw, all they had +read, and something of what they thought. What was wanting to make this +charming camaraderie perfect? Only one thing. + +It may have occurred to Philip that Celia had not sufficient respect for +his opinions; she regarded them simply as opinions, not as his. + +One afternoon, in the Metropolitan Picture-Gallery, Philip had been +expressing enthusiasm for some paintings that Celia thought more +sentimental than artistic, and this reminded her that he was getting +into a general way of admiring everything. + +“You didn't use, Philip, to care so much for pictures.” + +“Oh, I've been seeing more.” + +“But you don't say you like that? Look at the drawing.” + +“Well, it tells the story.” + +“A story is nothing; it's the way it's told. This is not well told.” + +“It pleases me. Look at that girl.” + +“Yes, she is domestic. I admit that. But I'm not sure I do not prefer +an impressionistic girl, whom you can't half see, to such a thorough +bread-and-butter miss as this.” + +“Which would you rather live with?” + +“I'm not obliged to live with either. In fact, I'd rather live with +myself. If it's art, I want art; if it's cooking and sewing, I want +cooking and sewing. If the artist knew enough, he'd paint a woman +instead of a cook.” + +“Then you don't care for real life?” + +“Real life! There is no such thing. You are demonstrating that. You +transform this uninteresting piece of domesticity into an ideal woman, +ennobling her surroundings. She doesn't do it. She is level with them.” + +“It would be a dreary world if we didn't idealize things.” + +“So it would. And that is what I complain of in such 'art' as this. I +don't know what has got into you, Phil. I never saw you so exuberant. +You are pleased with everything. Have you had a rise in the office? Have +you finished your novel?” + +“Neither. No rise. No novel. But Tweedle is getting friendly. Threw +an extra job in my way the other day. Do you think I'd better offer my +novel, when it is done, to Tweedle?” + +“Tweedle, indeed!” + +“Well, one of our clients is one of the great publishing firms, and +Tweedle often dines with the publisher.” + +“For shame, Phil!” + +Philip laughed. “At any rate, that is no meaner than a suggestion of +Brad's. He says if I will just weave into it a lot of line scenery, and +set my people traveling on the great trunk, stopping off now and then at +an attractive branch, the interested railroads would gladly print it and +scatter it all over the country.” + +“No doubt,” said Celia, sinking down upon a convenient seat. “I begin to +feel as if there were no protection for anything. And, Phil, that great +monster of a Mavick, who is eating up the country, isn't he a client +also?” + +“Occasionally only. A man like Mavick has his own lawyers and judges.” + +“Did you ever see him?” + +“Just glimpses.” + +“And that daughter of his, about whom such a fuss was made, I suppose +you never met her?” + +“Oh, as I wrote you, at the opera; saw her in her box.” + +“And--?” + +“Oh, she's rather a little thing; rather dark, I told you that; seems +devoted to music.” + +“And you didn't tell what she wore.” + +“Why, what they all wear. Something light and rather fluffy.” + +“Just like a man. Is she pretty?” + +“Ye-e-s; has that effect. You'd notice her eyes.” If Philip had been +frank he would have answered, + +“I don't know. She's simply adorable,” and Celia would have understood +all about it. + +“And probably doesn't know anything. Yes, highly educated? I heard that. +But I'm getting tired of 'highly educated'; I see so many of them. I've +been making them now for years. Perhaps I'm one of them. And where am +I? Don't interrupt. I tell you it is a relief to come across a sweet, +womanly ignoramus. What church does she go to?” + +“Who?” + +“That Mavick girl.” + +“St. Thomas', I believe.” + +“That's good--that's devotional. I suppose you go there too, being +brought up a Congregationalist?” + +“At vespers, sometimes. But, Celia, what is the matter with you? I +thought you didn't care--didn't care to belong to anything?” + +“I? I belong to everything. Didn't I write you reams about my studies in +psychology? I've come to one conclusion. There are only two persons in +the world who stand on a solid foundation, the Roman Catholic and the +Agnostic. The Roman Catholic knows everything, the Agnostic doesn't know +anything.” + +Philip was never certain when the girl was bantering him; nor, when she +was in earnest, how long she would remain in that mind and mood. So he +ventured, humorously: + +“The truth is, Celia, that you know too much to be either. You are what +they call emancipated.” + +“Emancipated!” And Celia sat up energetically, as if she were now really +interested in the conversation. “Become the slave of myself instead +of the slave of somebody else! That's the most hateful thing to be, +emancipated. I never knew a woman who said she was emancipated who +wasn't in some ridiculous folly or another. Now, Phil, I'm going to tell +you something. I can tell you. You know I've been striving to have a +career, to get out of myself somehow, and have a career for myself. +Well, today--mind, I don't say tomorrow”--(and there was a queer little +smile on her lips)--“I think I will just try to be good to people and +things in general, in a human way.” + +“And give up education?” + +“No, no. I get my living by education, just as you do, or hope to do, by +law or by letters; it's all the same. But wait. I haven't finished what +I was going to say. The more I go into psychology, trying to find out +about my mind and mind generally, the more mysterious everything is. Do +you know, Phil, that I'm getting into the supernatural? You can't help +running into it. For me, I am not side-tracked by any of the nonsense +about magnetism and telepathy and mind-reading and other psychic +imponderabilities. Isn't it queer that the further we go into science +the deeper we go into mystery? + +“Now, don't be shocked, I mean it reverently, just as an illustration. +Do you think any one knows really anything more about the operation in +the world of electricity than he does about the operation of the Holy +Ghost? And yet people talk about science as if it were something they +had made themselves.” + +“But, Celia--” + +“No, I've talked enough. We are in this world and not in some other, and +I have to make my living. Let's go into the other room and see the +old masters. They, at least, knew how to paint--to paint passion and +character; some of them could paint soul. And then, Phil, I shall be +hungry. Talking about the mind always makes me hungry.” + + + + +XI + +Philip was always welcome at his uncle's house in Rivervale. It was, of +course, his home during his college life, and since then he was always +expected for his yearly holiday. The women of the house made much of +him, waited on him, deferred to him, petted him, with a flattering +mingling of tenderness to a little boy and the respect due to a man who +had gone into the world. Even Mr. Maitland condescended to a sort of +equality in engaging Philip in conversation about the state of the +country and the prospects of business in New York. + +It was July. When Philip went to sleep at night--he was in the front +chamber reserved for guests--the loud murmur of the Deerfield was in his +ears, like a current bearing him away into sweet sleep and dreams in a +land of pleasant adventures. Only in youth come such dreams. Later on +the sophisticated mind, left to its own guidance in the night, wanders +amid the complexities of life, calling up in confusion scenes long +forgotten or repented of, images only registered by a sub-conscious +process, dreams to perplex, irritate, and excite. + +In the morning the same continuous murmur seemed to awake him into a +peaceful world. Through the open window came in the scents of summer, +the freshness of a new day. How sweet and light was the air! It was +indeed the height of summer. The corn, not yet tasseled, stood in green +flexible ranks, moved by the early breeze. In the river-meadows haying +had just begun. Fields of timothy and clover, yellowing to ripeness, +took on a fresh bloom from the dew, and there was an odor of new-mown +grass from the sections where the scythes had been. He heard the call +of the crow from the hill, the melody of the bobolink along the +meadow-brook; indeed, the birds of all sorts were astir, skimming along +the ground or rising to the sky, keeping watch especially over the +garden and the fruit-trees, carrying food to their nests, or teaching +their young broods to fly and to chirp the songs of summer. And from +the woodshed the shrill note of the scythe under the action of the +grindstone. No such vivid realization of summer as that. + +Philip stole out the unused front door without disturbing the family. +Whither? Where would a boy be likely to go the first thing? To the +barn, the great cavernous barn, its huge doors now wide open, the stalls +vacant, the mows empty, the sunlight sifting in through the high shadowy +spaces. How much his life had been in that barn! How he had stifled and +scrambled mowing hay in those lofts! On the floor he had hulled heaps of +corn, thrashed oats with a flail--a noble occupation--and many a rainy +day had played there with girls and boys who could not now exactly +describe the games or well recall what exciting fun they were. There +were the racks where he put the fodder for cattle and horses, and there +was the cutting-machine for the hay and straw and for slicing the frozen +turnips on cold winter mornings. + +In the barn-yard were the hens, just as usual, walking with measured +step, scratching and picking in the muck, darting suddenly to one side +with an elevated wing, clucking, chattering, jabbering endlessly about +nothing. They did not seem to mind him as he stood in the open door. +But the rooster, in his oriental iridescent plumage, jumped upon a +fence-post and crowed defiantly, in warning that this was his preserve. +They seemed like the same hens, yet Philip knew they were all strangers; +all the hens and flaunting roosters he knew had long ago gone to +Thanksgiving. The hen is, or should be, an annual. It is never made a +pet. It forms no attachments. Man is no better acquainted with the hen, +as a being, than he was when the first chicken was hatched. Its business +is to live a brief chicken life, lay, and be eaten. And this reminded +Philip that his real occupation was hunting hens' eggs. And this he +did, in the mows, in the stalls, under the floor-planks, in every hidden +nook. The hen's instinct is to be orderly, and have a secluded nest of +her own, and bring up a family. But in such a communistic body it is a +wise hen who knows her own chicken. Nobody denies to the hen maternal +instincts or domestic proclivities, but what an ill example is a hen +community! + +And then Philip climbed up the hill, through the old grass-plot and the +orchard, to the rocks and the forest edge, and the great view. It had +more meaning to him than when he was a boy, and it was more beautiful. +In a certain peaceful charm, he had seen nothing anywhere in the world +like it. Partly this was because his boyish impressions, the first fresh +impressions of the visible world, came back to him; but surely it was +very beautiful. More experienced travelers than Philip felt its unique +charm. + +When he descended, Alice was waiting to breakfast with him. Mrs. +Maitland declared, with an approving smile on her placid, aging face, +that he was the same good-for-nothing boy. But Alice said, as she sat +down to the little table with Philip, “It is different, mother, with us +city folks.” They were in the middle room, and the windows opened to the +west upon the river-meadows and the wooded hills beyond, and through one +a tall rose-bush was trying to thrust its fragrant bloom. + +What a dainty breakfast! Alice flushed with pleasure. It was so good of +him to come to them. Had he slept well? Did it seem like home at all? +Philip's face showed that it was home without the need of saying so. +Such coffee-yes, a real aroma of the berry! Just a little more, would he +have? And as Alice raised the silver pitcher, there was a deep dimple +in her sweet cheek. How happy she was! And then the butter, so fresh and +cool, and the delicious eggs--by the way, he had left a hatful in the +kitchen as he came in. Alice explained that she did not make the eggs. +And then there was the journey, the heat in the city, the grateful +sight of the Deerfield, the splendid morning, the old barn, the +watering-trough, the view from the hill everything just as it used to +be. + +“Dear Phil, it is so nice to have you here,” and there were tears in +Alice's eyes, she was so happy. + +After breakfast Philip strolled down the country road through the +village. How familiar was every step of the way!--the old houses jutting +out at the turns in the road; the glimpse of the river beyond the little +meadow where Captain Rice was killed; the spring under the ledge over +which the snap-dragon grew; the dilapidated ranks of fence smothered +in vines and fireweeds; the cottages, with flower-pots in front; the +stores, with low verandas ornamented with boxes and barrels; the academy +in its green on the hill; the old bridge over which the circus elephant +dared not walk; the new and the old churches, with rival steeples; and, +not familiar, the new inn. + +And he knew everybody, young and old, at doorways, in the fields or +gardens, and had for every one a hail and a greeting. How he enjoyed it +all, and his self-consciousness added to his pleasure, as he swung along +in his well-fitting city clothes, broad-shouldered and erect--it is +astonishing how much a tailor can do for a man who responds to his +efforts. It is a pleasure to come across such a hero as this in real +life, and not have to invent him, as the saying is, out of the whole +cloth. Philip enjoyed the world, and he enjoyed himself, because it was +not quite his old self, the farmer's boy going on an errand. There must +be knowledge all along the street that he was in the great law office of +Hunt, Sharp & Tweedle. And, besides, Philip's name must be known to all +the readers of magazines in the town as a writer, a name in more than +one list of “contributors.” That was fame. Translated, however, into +country comprehension it was something like this, if he could have heard +the comments after he had passed by: + +“Yes, that's Phil Burnett, sure enough; but I'd hardly know him; spruced +up mightily. I wonder what he's at?” + +“I heard he was down in New York trying to law it. I heard he's been +writin' some for newspapers. Accordin' to his looks, must pay a durn +sight better'n farmin'.” + +“Well, I always said that boy wa'n't no skeezics.” + +Almost the first question Philip asked Alice on his return was about the +new inn, the Peacock Inn. + +“There seemed a good deal of stir about it as I passed.” + +“Why, I forgot to tell you about it. It's the great excitement. +Rivervale is getting known. The Mavicks are there. I hear they've taken +pretty much the whole of it.” + +“The Mavicks? + +“Yes, the New York Mavicks, that you wrote us about, that were in the +paper.” + +“How long have they been there?” + +“A week. There is Mrs. Mavick and her daughter, and the governess, and +two maids, and a young fellow in uniform--yes, livery--and a coachman in +the same, and a stableful of horses and carriages. It upset the village +like a circus. And they say there's a French chef in white cap and +apron, who comes to the side-door and jabbers to the small boys like +fireworks.” + +“How did it come about?” + +“Naturally, I guess; a city family wanting a quiet place for summer in +the country. But you will laugh. Patience first discovered it. One day, +sitting at the window, she saw a two-horse buggy driven by the landlord +of the Peacock, and a gentleman by his side. 'Well, I wonder who that +is-city man certainly. And wherever is he going? May be a railroad man. +But there is nothing the matter with the railroad. Shouldn't wonder +if he is going to see the tunnel. If it was just that, the landlord +wouldn't drive him; he'd send a man. And they keep stopping and pointing +and looking round. No, it isn't the railroad, it's scenery. And what can +a man like that want with scenery? + +“He does look like a railroad man. It may be tunnel, but it isn't all +tunnel. When the team came back in the afternoon, Patience was again +at the window; she had heard meantime from Jabez that a city man was +stopping at the Peacock. There he goes, and looking round more than +ever. They've stopped by the bridge and the landlord is pointing out. +It's not tunnel, it's scenery. I tell you, he is a city boarder. Not +that he cares about scenery; it's for his family. City families are +always trying to find a grand new place, and he has heard of Rivervale +and the Peacock Inn. Maybe the tunnel had something to do with it.” + +“Why, it's like second sight.” + +“No, Patience says it's just judgment. And she generally hits it. At any +rate, the family is here.” + +The explanation of their being there--it seemed to Philip +providential--was very simple. Mr. Mavick had plans about the Hoosac +Tunnel that required him to look at it. Mrs. Mavick took advantage of +this to commission him to look at a little inn in a retired village of +which she had heard, and to report on scenery and climate. Warm days and +cool nights and simplicity was her idea. Mavick reported that the place +seemed made for the family. + +Evelyn was not yet out, but she was very nearly out, and after the late +notoriety Mrs. Mavick dreaded the regular Newport season. And, in the +mood of the moment, she was tired of the Newport palace. She always said +that she liked simplicity--a common failing among people who are not +compelled to observe it. Perhaps she thought she was really fond of +rural life and country ways. As she herself said, + +“If you have a summer cottage at Newport or Lenox, it is necessary to +go off somewhere and rest.” And then it would be good for Evelyn to +live out-of-doors and see the real country, and, as for herself, as she +looked in the mirror, “I shall drink milk and go to bed early. Henderson +used to say that a month in New Hampshire made another woman of me.” + +Oh, to find a spot where we could be undisturbed, alone and unknown. +That was the program. But Carmen simply could not be anywhere content +if she were unnoticed. It was not so easy to give up daily luxury, and +habits of ease at the expense of attendants, or the ostentation which +had become a second nature. Therefore the “establishment” went along +with her to Rivervale, and the shy, modest little woman, who had dropped +down into the country simplicity that she so dearly loved, greatly +enjoyed the sensation that her coming produced. It needed no effort +on her part to produce the sensation. The carriage, and coachman and +footman in livery, would have been sufficient; and then the idea of one +family being rich enough to take the whole hotel! + +The liveries, the foreign cook in his queer cap and apron, and all the +goings-on at the Peacock were the inexhaustible topic of talk in every +farmhouse for ten miles around. Rivervale was a self-respecting town, +and principled against luxury and self-indulgence, and judged with +a just and severe judgment the world of fashion and of the grasping, +wicked millionaires. And now this world with all its vain show had +plumped down in the midst of them. Those who had traveled and seen +the ostentation of cities smiled a superior smile at the curiosity +and wonder exhibited, but even those who had never seen the like were +cautious about letting their surprise appear. Especially in the presence +of fashion and wealth would the independent American citizen straighten +his backbone, reassuring himself that he was as good as anybody. To be +sure, people flew to windows when the elegant equipage dashed by, and +everybody found frequent occasion to drive or walk past the Peacock Inn. +It was only the novelty of it, in a place that rather lacked novelties. + +And yet there prevailed in the community a vague sense that millions +were there, and a curious expectation of some individual benefit from +them. All the young berry-pickers were unusually active, and poured +berries into the kitchen door of the inn. There was not a housewife who +was not a little more anxious about the product of her churning; not a +farmer who did not think that perhaps cord-wood would rise, that +there would be a better demand for garden “sass,” and more market for +chickens, and who did not regard with more interest his promising colt. +When he drove to the village his rig was less shabby and slovenly in +appearance. The young fellows who prided themselves upon a neat buggy +and a fast horse made their turnouts shine, and dashed past the inn with +a self-conscious air. Even the stores began to “slick up” and arrange +their miscellaneous notions more attractively, and one of them boldly +put in a window a placard, “Latest New York Style.” When the family +went to the Congregational church on Sunday not the slightest notice +was taken of them--though every woman could have told to the last detail +what the ladies wore--but some of the worshipers were for the first time +a little nervous about the performance of the choir, and the deacons +heard the sermon chiefly with reference to what a city visitor would +think of it. + +Mrs. Mavick was quite equal to the situation. In the church she +was devout, in the village she was affable and friendly. She made +acquaintances right and left, and took a simple interest in everybody +and everything. She was on easy terms with the landlord, who declared, +“There is a woman with no nonsense in her.” She chatted with the farmers +who stopped at the inn door, she bought things at the stores that she +did not want, and she speedily discovered Aunt Hepsy, and loved to sit +with her in the little shop and pick up the traditions and the gossip +of the neighborhood. And she did not confine her angelic visits to +the village. On one pretense and another she made her way into every +farmhouse that took her fancy, penetrated the kitchens and dairies, and +got, as she told McDonald, into the inner life of the people. + +She must see the grave of Captain Moses Rice. And on this legitimate +errand she one day carried her fluttering attractiveness and patchouly +into the Maitland house. Mrs. Maitland was civil, but no more. Alice +was civil but reserved--a great many people, she said, came to see the +graves in the old orchard. But Mrs. Mavick was not a bit abashed. She +expressed herself delighted with everything. It was such a rest, such +a perfectly lovely country, and everybody was so hospitable! And Aunt +Hepsy had so interested her in the history of the region! But it was +difficult to get her talk responded to. + +However, when Miss Patience came in she made better headway. She had +heard so much of Miss Maitland's apartments. She herself was interested +in decorations. She had tried to do something in her New York home. But +there were so many ideas and theories, and it was so hard to be natural +and artificial at the same time. She had no doubt she could get some +new ideas from Miss Maitland. Would it be asking too much to see her +apartments? She really felt like a stranger nowhere in Rivervale. +Patience was only too delighted, and took her into her museum of natural +history, art, religion, and vegetation. + +“She might have gone to the grave-yard without coming into the house,” + Alice remarked. + +“Oh, well,” said her mother, “I think she is very amusing. You shouldn't +be so exclusive, Alice.” + +“Mother, I do believe she paints.” + +With Patience, Mrs. Mavick felt on surer ground. + +“How curious, how very curious and delightful it is! Such knowledge of +nature, such art in arrangement.” + +“Oh, I just put them up,” said Patience, “as I thought they ought by +rights to be put up.” + +“That's it. And you have combined everything here. You have given me +an idea. In our house we have a Japan room, and an Indian room, and a +Chinese room, and an Otaheite, and I don't know what--Egyptian, Greek, +and not one American, not a really American. That is, according to +American ideas, for you have everything in these two rooms. I shall +write to Mr. Mavick.” (Mr. Mavick never received the letter.) + +When she came away it was with a profusion of thanks, and repeated +invitations to drop in at the inn. Alice accompanied her to the first +stone that marked the threshold of the side door, and was bowing her +away, when Mr. Philip swung over the fence by the wood-shed, with a +shot-gun on his shoulder, and swinging in his left hand a gray squirrel +by its bushy tail, and was immediately in front of the group. + +“Ah!” involuntarily from Mrs. Mavick. An introduction was inevitable. + +“My cousin, Mr. Burnett, Mrs. Mavick.” Philip raised his cap and bowed. + +“A hunter, I see.” + +“Hardly, madam. In vacations I like to walk in the woods with a gun.” + +“Then you are not--” + +“No,” said Philip, smiling, “unfortunately I cannot do this all the +time.” + +“You are of the city, then?” + +“With the firm of Hunt, Sharp & Tweedle.” + +“Ah, my husband knows them, I believe.” + +“I have seen Mr. Mavick,” and Philip bowed again. + +“How lucky!” + +Mrs. Mavick had an eye for a fine young fellow--she never denied +that--and Philip's manly figure and easy air were not lost on her. +Presently she said: + +“We are here for a good part of the summer. Mr. Mavick's business keeps +him in the city and we have to poke about a good deal alone. Now, Miss +Alice, I am so glad I have met your cousin. Perhaps he will show us some +of the interesting places and the beauties of the country he knows so +well.” And she looked sideways at Philip. + +“Yes, he knows the country,” said Alice, without committing herself. + +“I am sure I shall be delighted to do what I can for you whenever you +need my services,” said Philip, who had reasons for wishing to know the +Mavicks which Alice did not share. + +“That's so good of you! Excursions, picnics oh, we will arrange. You +must come and help me arrange. And I hope,” with a smile to Alice, “you +can persuade your cousin to join us sometimes.” + +Alice bowed, they all bowed, and Mrs. Mavick said au revoir, and went +swinging her parasol down the driveway. Then she turned and called +back, “This is the first long walk I have taken.” And then she said to +herself, “Rather stiff, except the young man and the queer old maid. +But what a pretty girl the younger must have been ten years ago! These +country flowers!” + + + + +XII + +Mrs. Mavick thought herself fortunate in finding, in the social +wilderness of Rivervale, such a presentable young gentleman as +Philip. She had persuaded herself that she greatly enjoyed her simple +intercourse with the inhabitants, and she would have said that she was +in deep sympathy with their lives. No doubt in New York she would relate +her summer adventures as something very amusing, but for the moment this +adaptable woman seemed to herself in a very ingenuous, receptive, and +sympathetic state of mind. Still, there was a limit to the entertaining +power of Aunt Hepsy, which was perceived when she began to repeat her +annals of the neighborhood, and to bring forward again and again the +little nuggets of wisdom which she had evolved in the small circle of +her experience. And similarly Mrs. Mavick became aware that there was +a monotony in the ideas brought forward by the farmers and the farmers' +wives, whether in the kitchen or the best room, which she lighted up +by her gracious presence, that it was possible to be tired of the most +interesting “peculiarities” when once their novelty was exhausted, +and that so-called “characters” in the country fail to satisfy the +requirements of intimate or long companionship. Their world is too +narrowly circumscribed. + +The fact that Philip was a native of the place, and so belonged to a +world that was remote from her own, made her free to seek his aid in +making the summer pass agreeably without incurring any risk of social +obligations. Besides, when she had seen more of him, she experienced a +good deal of pleasure in his company. His foreign travel, his reading, +his life in the city, offered many points of mutual interest, and it +was a relief to her to get out of the narrow range of topics in the +provincial thought, and to have her allusions understood. Philip, on +his part, was not slow to see this, or to perceive that in the higher +intellectual ranges, the serious topics which occupied the attention of +the few cultivated people in the neighborhood, Mrs. Mavick had little +interest or understanding, though there was nothing she did not profess +an interest in when occasion required. Philip was not of a suspicious +nature, and it may not have occurred to him that Mrs. Mavick was simply +amusing herself, as she would do with any agreeable man, young or old, +who fell in her way, and would continue to do so if she reached the age +of ninety. + +On the contrary, it never seemed to occur to Mrs. Mavick, who was +generally suspicious, that Philip was making himself agreeable to +the mother of Evelyn. In her thought Evelyn was still a child, in +leading-strings, and would be till she was formally launched, and the +social gulf between the great heiress and the law clerk and poor writer +was simply impassable. All of which goes to show that the most astute +women are not always the wisest. + +To one person in Rivervale the coming of Mrs. Mavick and her train of +worldliness was unwelcome. It disturbed the peaceful simplicity of the +village, and it was likely to cloud her pleasure in Philip's visit. She +felt that Mrs. Mavick was taking him away from the sweet serenity of +their life, and that in everything she said or did there was an element +of unrest and excitement. She was careful, however, not to show any +of this apprehension to Philip; she showed it only by an increased +affectionate interest in him and his concerns, and in trying to make the +old home more dear to him. Mrs. Mavick was loud in her praise of Alice +to her cousin, and sought to win her confidence, but she was, after all, +a little shy of her, and probably would have characterized her to a city +friend as a sort of virgin in the Bible. + +It so happened that day after day went by without giving Philip anything +more than passing glimpses of Evelyn, when she was driving with her +mother or her governess. Yet Rivervale never seemed so ravishingly +beautiful to all his senses. Surely it was possessed by a spirit of +romance and poetry, which he had never perceived before, and he wasted +a good deal of time in gazing on the river, on the gracious meadows, on +the graceful contours of the hills. When he was a lad, in the tree-top, +there had been something stimulating and almost heroic in the scene, +which awakened his ambition. Now it was the idyllic beauty that took +possession of him, transformed as it was by the presence of a woman, +that supreme interpreter of nature to a youth. And yet scarcely +a woman--rather a vision of a girl, impressible still to all the +influences of such a scene and to the most delicate suggestions of +unfolding life. Probably he did not analyze this feeling, but it was +Evelyn he was thinking of when he admired the landscape, breathed with +exhilaration the fresh air, and watched the white clouds sail along the +blue vault; and he knew that if she were suddenly to leave the valley +all the light would go out of it and the scene would be flat to his eyes +and torturing to his memory. + +Mrs. Mavick he encountered continually in the village. He had taken many +little strolls with her to this or that pretty point of view, they had +exchanged reminiscences of foreign travel, and had dipped a little into +current popular books, so that they had come to be on easy, friendly +terms. Philip's courtesy and deference, and a certain wit and humor of +suggestion applied to ordinary things, put him more and more on a good +footing with her, so much so that she declared to McDonald that really +young Burnett was a genuine “find” in the country. + +It seems a pity that the important events in our lives are so +commonplace. Philip's meeting with Evelyn, so long thought of and +dramatized in his mind, was not in the least as he had imagined it. When +one morning he went to the Peacock Inn at the summons of Mrs. Mavick, in +order to lay out a plan of campaign, he found Evelyn and her governess +seated on the veranda, with their books. It was Evelyn who rose first +and came forward, without, so far as Philip could see, the least +embarrassment of recognition. + +“Mr. Burnett? Mamma will be here in a moment. This is our friend, Miss +McDonald.” + +The girl's morning costume was very simple, and in her short +walking-skirt she seemed younger even than in the city. She spoke and +moved--Philip noticed that--without the least self-consciousness, and +she had a way of looking her interlocutor frankly in the eyes, or, as +Philip expressed it, “flashing” upon him. + +Philip bowed to the governess, and, still standing and waving his hand +towards the river, hoped they liked Rivervale, and then added: + +“I see you can read in the country.” + +“We pretend to,” said Evelyn, who had resumed her seat and indicated a +chair for Philip, “but the singing of that river, and the bobolinks in +the meadow, and the light on the hills are almost too much for us. Don't +you think, McDonald, it is like Scotland?” + +“It would be,” the governess replied, “if it rained when it didn't mist, +and there were moors and heather, and--” + +“Oh, I didn't mean all that, but a feeling like that, sweet and retired +and sort of lonesome?” + +“Perhaps Miss McDonald means,” said Philip, “that there isn't much to +feel here except what you see.” + +Miss McDonald looked sharply around at Philip and remarked: “Yes, that's +just it. It is very lovely, like almost any outdoors, if you will give +yourself up to it. You remember, Evelyn, how fascinating the Arizona +desert was? But there was a romantic addition to the colored desolation +because the Spaniards and the Jesuits had been there. Now this place +lacks traditions, legends, romance. You have to bring your romance with +you.” + +“And that is the reason you read here?” + +“One reason. Especially romances. This charming scenery and the summer +sounds of running water and birds make a nice accompaniment to the +romance.” + +“But mamma says,” Evelyn interrupted, “there is plenty of legend here, +and tradition and flavor, Indians and early settlers, and even Aunt +Hepsy.” + +“Well, I confess they don't appeal to me. And as for Indians, Parkman's +descriptions of those savages made me squirm. And I don't believe +there was much more romance about the early settlers than about their +descendants. Isn't it true, Mr. Burnett, that you must have a human +element to make any country interesting?” + +Philip glanced at Evelyn, whose bright face was kindled with interest +in the discussion, and thought, “Good heavens! if there is not human +interest here, I don't know where to look for it,” but he only said: + +“Doubtless.” + +“And why don't you writers do something about it? It is literature that +does it, either in Scotland or Judea.” + +“Well,” said Philip, stoutly, “they are doing something. I could name +half a dozen localities, even sections of country, that travelers visit +with curiosity just because authors have thrown that glamour over them. +But it is hard to create something out of nothing. It needs time.” + +“And genius,” Miss McDonald interjected. + +“Of course, but it took time to transform a Highland sheep-stealer into +a romantic personage.” + +Miss McDonald laughed. “That is true. Take a modern instance. Suppose +Evangeline had lived in this valley! Or some simple Gretchen about whose +simple story all the world is in sympathy!” + +“Or,” thought Philip, “some Evelyn.” But he replied, looking at Evelyn, +“I believe that any American community usually resents being made the +scene of a romance, especially if it is localized by any approach to +reality.” + +“Isn't that the fault mostly of the writer, who vulgarizes his +material?” + +“The realists say no. They say that people dislike to see themselves as +they are.” + +“Very likely,” said Miss McDonald; “no one sees himself as others see +him, and probably the poet who expressed the desire to do so was simply +attitudinizing.--[Robert Burns: 'O wha gift the Giftie gie us; to see +o'rselves as others see us.' Ed.]--By the way, Mr. Burnett, you know +there is one place of sentiment, religious to be sure, not far from +here. I hope we can go some day to see the home of the 'Mountain +Miller.'” + +“Yes, I know the place. It is beyond the river, up that steep road +running into the sky, in the next adjoining hill town. I doubt if you +find any one there who lays it much to heart. But you can see the mill.” + +“What is the Mountain Miller?” asked Evelyn. + +“A tract that, when I was a girl,” answered Miss McDonald, “used to be +bound up with 'The Dairyman's Daughter' and 'The Shepherd of Salisbury +Plain.' It was the first thing that interested me in New England.” + +“Well,” said Philip, “it isn't much. Just a tract. But it was written by +Parson Halleck, a great minister and a sort of Pope in this region +for fifty years. It is, so far as I know, the only thing of his that +remains.” + +This tractarian movement was interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Mavick. + +“Good-morning, Mr. Burnett. I've been down to see Jenkins about his +picnic wagon. Carries six, besides the driver and my man, and the +hampers. So, you see, Miss Alice will have to go. We couldn't go +rattling along half empty. I'll go up and see her this afternoon. So, +that's settled. Now about the time and place. You are the director. +Let's sit down and plan it out. It looks like good weather for a week.” + +“Miss McDonald says she wants to see the Mountain Miller,” said Philip, +with a smile. + +“What's that? A monument like your Pulpit Rock?” + +“No, a tract about a miller.” + +“Ah, something religious. I never heard of it. Well, perhaps we had +better begin with something secular, and work round to that.” + +So an excursion was arranged for the next day. And as Philip walked +home, thinking how brilliant Evelyn had been in their little talk, he +began to dramatize the excursion. + +All excursions are much alike, exhilarating in the outset, rarely up to +expectation in the object, wearisome in the return; but, nevertheless, +delightful in the memory, especially if attended with some hardship +or slight disaster. To be free, in the open air, and for a day +unconventional and irresponsible, is the sufficient justification of +a country picnic; but its common attraction is in the opportunity for +bringing young persons of the opposite sex into natural and unrestrained +relations. To Philip it was the first time in his life that a picnic had +ever seemed a defensible means of getting rid of a day. + +The two persons to whom this excursion was most novel and exciting +were Evelyn and the elder maiden, Alice, who sat together and speedily +developed a sympathy with each other in the enjoyment of the country, +and in a similar poetic temperament, very shy on the part of Alice and +very frank on the part of Evelyn. The whole wild scene along the river +was quite as novel to Alice as to the city girl, because, although she +was familiar with every mile of it and had driven through it a hundred +times, she had never in all her life before, of purpose, gone to see +it. No doubt she had felt its wildness and beauty, but now for the first +time she looked at it as scenery, as she might have looked at a picture +in a gallery. And in the contagion of Evelyn's outspoken enthusiasm she +was no longer afraid to give timid expression to the latent poetry in +her own soul. And daring to express this, she seemed to herself for the +first time to realize vividly the nobility and grace of the landscape. +And yet there was a difference in the appreciation of the two. More +widely read and traveled, Evelyn's imagination took a wider range of +comparison and of admiration, she was appealed to by the large features +and the grandiose effects; while Alice noted more the tenderer aspects, +the wayside flowers and bushes, the exotic-looking plants, which she +longed to domesticate in what might be called the Sunday garden on the +terraces in front of her house. For it is in these little cultivated +places by the door-step, places of dreaming in the summer hours after +meeting and at sunset, that the New England maiden experiences something +of that tender religious sentiment which was not much fed in the +barrenness of the Congregational meeting-house. + +The Pulpit Rock, in the rough pasture land of Zoar, was reached by a +somewhat tedious climb from the lonely farmhouse, in a sheltered nook, +through straggling woods and gray pastures. It was a vast exposed +surface rising at a slight angle out of the grass and undergrowth. Along +the upper side was a thin line of bushes, and, pushing these aside, the +observer was always startled at the unexpected scene--as it were the +raising of a curtain upon another world. He stood upon the edge of +a sheer precipice of a thousand feet, and looked down upon a green +amphitheatre through the bottom of which the brawling river, an amber +thread in the summer foliage, seemed trying to get an outlet from this +wilderness cul de sac. From the edge of this precipice the first impulse +was to start back in surprise and dread, but presently the observer +became reassured of its stability, and became fascinated by the lonesome +wildness of the scene. + +“Why is it called Pulpit Rock?” asked Mrs. Mavick; “I see no pulpit.” + +“I suppose,” said Philip, “the name was naturally suggested to a +religious community, whose poetic images are mainly Biblical, and who +thought it an advantageous place for a preacher to stand, looking down +upon a vast congregation in the amphitheatre.” + +“So it is,” exclaimed Evelyn. “I can see John the Baptist standing here +now, and hear his voice crying in the wilderness.” + +“Very likely,” said Mrs. Mavick, persisting in her doubt, “of course in +Zoar. Anywhere else in the world it would be called the Lover's Leap.” + +“That is odd,” said Alice; “there was a party of college girls came here +two years ago and made up a story about it which was printed, how an +Indian maiden pursued by a white man ran up this hill as if she had been +a deer, disappeared from his sight through these bushes, and took the +fatal leap. They called it the Indian Maiden's Rock. But it didn't take. +It will always be Pulpit Rock.” + +“So you see, Miss McDonald,” said Philip, “that writers cannot graft +legends on the old stock.” + +“That depends upon the writer,” returned the Scotch woman, shortly. “I +didn't see the schoolgirl's essay.” + +When the luncheon was disposed of, with the usual adaptation to nomadic +conditions, and the usual merriment and freedom of personal comment, and +the wit that seems so brilliant in the open air and so flat in print, +Mrs. Mavick declared that she was tired by the long climb and the +unusual excitement. + +“Perhaps it is the Pulpit,” she said, “but I am sleepy; and if you young +people will amuse yourselves, I will take a nap under that tree.” + +Presently, also, Alice and the governess withdrew to the edge of the +precipice, and Evelyn and Philip were left to the burden of entertaining +each other. It might have been an embarrassing situation but for the +fact that all the rest of the party were in sight, that the girl had not +the least self-consciousness, having had no experience to teach her +that there was anything to be timid about in one situation more than in +another, and that Philip was so absolutely content to be near Evelyn and +hear her voice that there was room for nothing else in his thought. But +rather to his surprise, Evelyn made no talk about the situation or +the day, but began at once with something in her mind, a directness of +mental operation that he found was characteristic of her. + +“It seems to me, Mr. Burnett, that there is something of what Miss +McDonald regards as the lack of legend and romance in this region in our +life generally.” + +“I fancy everybody feels that who travels much elsewhere. You mean life +seems a little thin, as the critics say?” + +“Yes, lacks color and background. But, you see, I have no experience. +Perhaps it's owing to Miss McDonald. I cannot get the plaids and tartans +and Jacobins and castles and what-not out of my head. Our landscapes are +just landscapes.” + +“But don't you think we are putting history and association into them +pretty fast?” + +“Yes, I know, but that takes a long time. I mean now. Take this lovely +valley and region, how easily it could be made romantic.” + +“Not so very easy, I fancy.” + +“Well, I was thinking about it last night.” And then, as if she saw +a clear connection between this and what she was going to say, “Miss +McDonald says, Mr. Burnett, that you are a writer.” + +“I? Why, I'm... I'm--a lawyer.” + +“Of course, that's business. That reminds me of what papa said once: +'It's lucky there is so much law, or half the world, including the +lawyers, wouldn't have anything to do, trying to get around it and evade +it.' And you won't mind my repeating it--I was a mite of a girl--I said, +'Isn't that rather sophistical, papa?' And mamma put me down'--It seems +to me, child, you are using pretty big words.'” + +They both laughed. But suddenly Evelyn added: + +“Why don't you do it?” + +“Do what?” + +“Write a story about it--what Miss McDonald calls 'invest the region +with romance.'” + +The appeal was very direct, and it was enforced by those wonderful eyes +that seemed to Philip to discern his powers, as he felt them, and his +ambitions, and to express absolute confidence in him. His vanity was +touched in its most susceptible spot. Here seemed to be a woman, nay, +a soul, who understood him, understood him even better than Celia, the +lifelong confidante. It is a fatal moment for men and women, that in +which they feel the subtle flattery of being understood by one of the +opposite sex. Philip's estimation of himself rose 'pari passu' with his +recognition of the discernment and intellectual quality of the frank and +fascinating girl who seemed to believe in him. But he restrained himself +and only asked, after a moment of apparent reflection upon the general +proposition: + +“Well, Miss Mavick, you have been here some time. Have you discovered +any material for such use?” + +“Why, perhaps not, and I might not know what to do with it if I had. +But perhaps you don't mean what I mean. I mean something fitting the +setting. Not the domestic novel. Miss McDonald says we are vulgarized in +all our ideals by so much domesticity. She says that Jennie Deans would +have been just an ordinary, commonplace girl but for Walter Scott.” + +“Then you want a romance?” + +“No. I don't know exactly what I do want. But I know it when I see it.” + And Evelyn looked down and appeared to be studying her delicate little +hands, interlacing her taper, ivory fingers--but Philip knew she did not +see them--and then looked up in his face again and said: + +“I'll tell you. This morning as we came up I was talking all the way +with your cousin. It took some time to break the ice, but gradually she +began to say things, half stories, half poetic, not out of books; things +that, if said with assurance, in the city would be called wit. And +then I began to see her emotional side, her pure imagination, such a +refinement of appreciation and justice--I think there is an immovable +basis of justice in her nature--and charity, and I think she'd be +heroic, with all her gentleness, if occasion offered.” + +“I see,” said Philip, rather lightly, “that you improved your time in +finding out what a rare creature Alice is. But,” and this more gravely, +“it would surprise her that you have found it out.” + +“I believe you. I fancy she has not the least idea what her qualities +are, or her capacities of doing or of suffering, and the world will +never know--that is the point-unless some genius comes along and reveals +them.” + +“How?” + +“Why, through a tragedy, a drama, a story, in which she acts out her +whole self. Some act it out in society. She never will. Such sweetness +and strength and passion--yes, I have no doubt, passion under all the +reserve! I feel it but I cannot describe it; I haven't imagination to +make you see what I feel.” + +“You come very near it,” said Philip, with a smile. And after a moment +the girl broke out again: + +“Materials! You writers go searching all round for materials, just as +painters do, fit for your genius.” + +“But don't you know that the hardest thing to do is the obvious, the +thing close to you?” + +“I dare say. But you won't mind? It is just an illustration. I went the +other day with mother to Alice's house. She was so sort of distant and +reserved that I couldn't know her in the least as I know her now. And +there was the rigid Puritan, her father, representing the Old Testament; +and her placid mother, with all the spirit of the New Testament; and +then that dear old maiden aunt, representing I don't know what, maybe +a blind attempt through nature and art to escape out of Puritanism; and +the typical old frame farmhouse--why, here is material for the sweetest, +most pathetic idyl. Yes, the Story of Alice. In another generation +people would come long distances to see the valley where Alice lived, +and her spirit would pervade it.” + +There could be but one end to such a burst of enthusiasm, and +both laughed and felt a relief in a merriment that was, after all, +sympathetic. But Evelyn was a persistent creature, and presently she +turned to Philip, again with those appealing eyes. + +“Now, why don't you do it?” + +Philip hesitated a moment and betrayed some embarrassment under the +questioning of the truthful eyes. + +“I've a good mind to tell you. I have--I am writing something.” + +“Yes?” + +“Not that exactly. I couldn't, don't you see, betray and use my own +relatives in that way.” + +“Yes, I see that.” + +“It isn't much. I cannot tell how it will come out. I tell you--I don't +mean that I have any right to ask you to keep it as a secret of mine, +but it is this way: If a writer gives away his imagination, his idea, +before it is fixed in form on paper, he seems to let the air of all the +world upon it and it disappears, and isn't quite his as it was before to +grow in his own mind.” + +“I can understand that,” Evelyn replied. + +“Well--” and Philip found himself launched. It is so easy to talk about +one's self to a sympathetic listener. He told Evelyn a little about his +life, and how the valley used to seem to him as a boy, and how it seemed +now that he had had experience of other places and people, and how +his studies and reading had enabled him to see things in their proper +relations, and how, finally, gradually the idea for a story in this +setting had developed in his mind. And then he sketched in outline +the story as he had developed it, and left the misty outlines of its +possibilities to the imagination. + +The girl listened with absorbing interest, and looked the approval which +she did not put in words. Perhaps she knew that a bud will never come +to flower if you pull it in pieces. When Philip had finished he had a +momentary regret for this burst of confidence, which he had never +given to any one else. But in the light of Evelyn's quick approval and +understanding, it was only momentary. Perhaps neither of them thought +what a dangerous game this is, for two young souls to thus unbosom +themselves to each other. + +A call from Mrs. Mavick brought them to their feet. It was time to go. +Evelyn simply said: + +“I think the valley, Mr. Burnett, looks a little different already.” + +As they drove home along the murmuring river through the golden sunset, +the party were mostly silent. Only Mrs. Mavick and Philip, who sat +together, kept up a lively chatter, lively because Philip was elated +with the event of the day, and because the nap under the beech-tree +in the open air had brightened the wits of one of the cleverest women +Philip had ever met. + +If the valley did seem different to Evelyn, probably she did not think +so far as to own to herself whether this was owing to the outline of the +story, which ran in her mind, or to the presence of the young author. + +Alice and Philip were set down at the farmhouse, and the company parted +with mutual enthusiasm over the success of the excursion. + +“She is a much more interesting girl than I thought,” Alice admitted. +“Not a bit fashionable.” + +“And she likes you.” + +“Me?” + +“Yes, your ears would have burned.” + +“Well, I am glad, for I think she is sincere.” + +“And I can tell you another thing. I had a long talk while you were +taking your siesta. She takes an abstract view of things, judging the +right and wrong of them, without reference to conventionalities or +the practical obstacles to carrying out her ideas, as if she had been +educated by reading and not by society. It is very interesting.” + +“Philip,” and Alice laid her hand on his shoulder, “don't let it be too +interesting.” + + + + +XIII + +When Philip said that Evelyn was educated in the world of literature and +not in the conflicts of life he had hit the key-note of her condition +at the moment she was coming into the world and would have to act for +herself. The more he saw of her the more was he impressed with the fact +that her discrimination, it might almost be called divination, and her +judgment were based upon the best and most vital products of the +human mind. A selection had evidently been made for her, until she had +acquired the taste, or the habit rather, of choosing only the best for +herself. Very little of the trash of literature, or the ignoble--that is +to say, the ignoble view of life--had come into her mind. Consequently +she judged the world as she came to know it by high standards. And her +mind was singularly pure and free from vulgar images. + +It might be supposed that this sort of education would have its +disadvantages. The word is firmly fixed in the idea that both for its +pleasure and profit it is necessary to know good and evil. Ignorance of +the evil in the world is, however, not to be predicated of those who are +familiar only with the great masterpieces of literature, for if they +are masterpieces, little or great, they exhibit human nature in all its +aspects. And, further than this, it ought to be demonstrable, a priori, +that a mind fed on the best and not confused by the weak and diluted, or +corrupted by images of the essentially vulgar and vile, would be morally +healthy and best fitted to cope with the social problems of life. The +Testaments reveal about everything that is known about human nature, but +such is their clear, high spirit, and their quality, that no one ever +traced mental degeneration or low taste in literature, or want of +virility in judgment, to familiarity with them. On the contrary, the +most vigorous intellects have acknowledged their supreme indebtedness to +them. + +It is not likely that Philip made any such elaborate analysis of +the girl with whom he was in love, or attempted, except by a general +reference to the method of her training, to account for the purity of +her mind and her vigorous discernment. He was in love with her more +subtle and hidden personality, with the girl just becoming a woman, with +the mysterious sex that is the inspiration of most of the poetry and a +good part of the heroism in the world. And he would have been in love +with her, let her education have been what it might. He was in love +before he heard her speak. And whatever she would say was bound to have +a quality of interest and attraction that could be exercised by no other +lips. It might be argued--a priori again, for the world is bound to go +on in its own way--that there would be fewer marriages if the illusion +of the sex did not suffice for the time to hide intellectual poverty, +and, what is worse, ignobleness of disposition. + +It was doubtless fortunate for this particular lovemaking, though it +did not seem so to Philip, that it was very much obstructed by lack of +opportunities, and that it was not impaired in its lustre by too much +familiarity. In truth, Philip would have said that he saw very little +of Evelyn, because he never saw her absolutely alone. To be sure he was +much in her presence, a welcome member of the group that liked to idle +on the veranda of the inn, and in the frequent excursions, in which +Philip seemed to be the companion of Mrs. Mavick rather than of her +daughter. But she was never absent from his thought, his imagination +was wholly captive to her image, and the passion grew in these hours of +absence until she became an indispensable associate in all that he was +or could ever hope to be. Alice, who discerned very clearly Mrs. Mavick +and her ambition, was troubled by Philip's absorption and the cruel +disappointment in store for him. To her he was still the little boy, and +all her tenderness for him was stirred to shield him from the suffering +she feared. + +But what could she do? Philip liked to talk about Evelyn, to dwell upon +her peculiarities and qualities, to hear her praised; to this extent +he was confidential with his cousin, but never in regard to his own +feeling. That was a secret concerning which he was at once too humble +and too confident to share with any other. None knew better than he the +absurd presumption of aspiring to the hand of such a great heiress, and +yet he nursed the vanity that no other man could ever appreciate and +love her as he did. + +Alice was still more distracted and in sympathy with Philip's evident +aspirations by her own love for Evelyn and her growing admiration for +the girl's character. It so happened that mutual sympathy--who can say +how it was related to Philip?--had drawn them much together, and chance +had given them many opportunities for knowing each other. Alice had so +far come out of her shell, and broken the reserve of her life, as to +make frequent visits at the inn, and Mrs. Mavick and Evelyn found it the +most natural and agreeable stroll by the river-side to the farmhouse, +where naturally, while the mother amused herself with the original +eccentricities of Patience, her daughter grew into an intimacy with +Alice. + +As for the feelings of Evelyn in these days--her first experience of +something like freedom in the world--the historian has only universal +experience to guide him. In her heart was working the consciousness that +she had been singled out as worthy to share the confidence of a man in +his most secret ambitions and aspirations, in the dreams of youth which +seemed to her so noble. For these aspirations and dreams concerned the +world in which she had lived most and felt most. + +If Philip had talked to her as he had to Celia about his plans for +success in life she would have been less interested. But there was +nothing to warn her personally in these unworldly confessions. Nor did +Philip ever seem to ask anything of her except sympathy in his ideas. +And then there was the friendship of Alice, which could not but +influence the girl. In the shelter of that the intercourse of the summer +took on natural relations. For some natures there is no nurture of love +like the security of family protection, under cover of which there is so +little to excite the alarm of a timid maiden. + +It was fortunate for Philip that Miss McDonald took a liking to him. +They were thrown much together. They were both good walkers, and liked +to climb the hills and explore the wild mountain streams. Philip would +have confessed that he was fond of nature, and fancied there was a sort +of superiority in his attitude towards it to that of his companion, who +was merely interested in plants-just a botanist. This attitude, which +she perceived, amused Miss McDonald. + +“If you American students,” she said one day when they were seated on a +fallen tree in the forest, and she was expatiating on a rare plant she +had found, “paid no more attention to the classics than to the world you +live in, few of you would get a degree.” + +“Oh, some fellows go in for that sort of thing,” Philip replied. “But +I have noticed that all English women have some sort of fad--plants, +shells, birds, something special.” + +“Fad!” exclaimed the Scotchwoman. “Yes, I suppose it is, if reading is +a fad. It is one way of finding out about things. You admire what +the Americans call scenery; we, since you provoke me to say it, love +nature--I mean its individual, almost personal manifestations. Every +plant has a distinct character of its own. I saw the other day an +American landscape picture with a wild, uncultivated foreground. There +was not a botanical thing in it. The man who painted it didn't know a +sweetbrier from a thistle. + +“Just a confused mass of rubbish. It was as if an animal painter should +compose a group and you could not tell whether it was made up of sheep +or rabbits or dogs or foxes or griffins.” + +“So you want things picked out like a photograph?” + +“I beg your pardon, I want nature. You cannot give character to a bit of +ground in a landscape unless you know the characters of its details. A +man is no more fit to paint a landscape than a cage of monkeys, unless +he knows the language of the nature he is dealing with down to the +alphabet. The Japanese know it so well that they are not bothered with +minutia, but give you character.” + +“And you think that science is an aid to art?” + +“Yes, if there is genius to transform it into art. You must know the +intimate habits of anything you paint or write about. You cannot even +caricature without that. They talk now about Dickens being just a +caricaturist. He couldn't have been that if he hadn't known the things +he caricatured. That is the reason there is so little good caricature.” + +“Isn't your idea of painting rather anatomical?” Philip ventured to ask. + +“Do you think that if Raphael had known nothing of anatomy the world +would have accepted his Sistine Madonna for the woman she is?” was the +retort. + +“I see it is interesting,” said Philip, shifting his ground again, “but +what is the real good of all these botanical names and classifications?” + +Miss McDonald gave a weary sigh. “Well, you must put things in order. +You studied philology in Germany? The chief end of that is to trace the +development, migration, civilization of the human race. To trace the +distribution of plants is another way to find out about the race. But +let that go. Don't you think that I get more pleasure in looking at all +the growing things we see, as we sit here, than you do in seeing them +and knowing as little about them as you pretend to?” + +Philip said that he could not analyze the degree of pleasure in +such things, but he seemed to take his ignorance very lightly. What +interested him in all this talk was that, in discovering the mind of the +governess, he was getting nearer to the mind of her pupil. And finally +he asked (and Miss McDonald smiled, for she knew what this conversation, +like all others with him, must ultimately come to): + +“Does the Mavick family also take to botany?” + +“Oh yes. Mrs. Mavick is intimate with all the florists in New York. And +Miss Evelyn, when I take home these specimens, will analyze them and +tell all about them. She is very sharp about such things. You must have +noticed that she likes to be accurate?” + +“But she is fond of poetry.” + +“Yes, of poetry that she understands. She has not much of the emotional +vagueness of many young girls.” + +All this was very delightful for Philip, and for a long time, on one +pretext or another, he kept the conversation revolving about this point. +He fancied he was very deep in doing this. To his interlocutor he was, +however, very transparent. And the young man would have been surprised +and flattered if he had known how much her indulgence of him in this +talk was due to her genuine liking for him. + +When they returned to the inn, Mrs. Mavick began to rally Philip about +his feminine taste in woodsy things. He would gladly have thrown botany +or anything else overboard to win the good opinion of Evelyn's mother, +but botany now had a real significance and a new meaning for him. +Therefore he put in a defense, by saying: + +“Botany, in the hands of Miss McDonald, cannot be called very feminine; +it is a good deal more difficult to understand and master than law.” + +“Maybe that's the reason,” said Mrs. Mavick, “why so many more girls are +eager to study law now than botany.” + +“Law?” cried Evelyn; “and to practice?” + +“Certainly. Don't you think that a bright, clever woman, especially if +she were pretty, would have an advantage with judge and jury?” + +“Not if judge and jury were women,” Miss McDonald interposed. + +“And you remember Portia?” Mrs. Mavick continued. + +“Portia,” said Evelyn; “yes, but that is poetry; and, McDonald, wasn't +it a kind of catch? How beautifully she talked about mercy, but she +turned the sharp edge of it towards the Jew. I didn't like that.” + +“Yes,” Miss McDonald replied, “it was a kind of trick, a poet's law. +What do you say, Mr. Burnett?” + +“Why,” said Philip, hesitating, “usually it is understood when a man +buys or wins anything that the appurtenances necessary to give him full +possession go with it. Only in this case another law against the Jew was +understood. It was very clever, nothing short of woman's wit.” + +“Are there any women in your firm, Mr. Burnett?” asked Mrs. Mavick. + +“Not yet, but I think there are plenty of lawyers who would be willing +to take Portia for a partner.” + +“Make her what you call a consulting partner. That is just the way +with you men--as soon as you see women succeeding in doing anything +independently, you head them off by matrimony.” + +“Not against their wills,” said the governess, with some decision. + +“Oh, the poor things are easily hypnotized. And I'm glad they are. The +funniest thing is to hear the Woman's Rights women talk of it as a state +of subjection,” and Mrs. Mavick laughed out of her deep experience. + +“Rights, what's that?” asked Evelyn. + +“Well, child, your education has been neglected. Thank McDonald for +that.” + +“Don't you know, Evelyn,” the governess explained, “that we have always +said that women had a right to have any employment, or do anything they +were fitted to do?” + +“Oh, that, of course; I thought everybody said that. That is natural. +But I mean all this fuss. I guess I don't understand what you all are +talking about.” And her bright face broke out of its look of perplexity +into a smile. + +“Why, poor thing,” said her mother, “you belong to the down-trodden sex. +Only you haven't found it out.” + +“But, mamma,” and the girl seemed to be turning the thing over in her +mind, as was her wont with any new proposition, “there seem to be in +history a good many women who never found it out either.” + +“It is not so now. I tell you we are all in a wretched condition.” + +“You look it, mamma,” replied Evelyn, who perfectly understood when her +mother was chaffing. + +“But I think I don't care so much for the lawyers,” Mrs. Mavick +continued, with more air of conviction; “what I can't stand are the +doctors, the female doctors. I'd rather have a female priest about me +than a female doctor.” + +This was not altogether banter, for there had been times in Carmen's +career when the externals of the Roman Church attracted her, and she +wished she had an impersonal confidant, to whom she could confess--well, +not everything-and get absolution. And she could make a kind of +confidant of a sympathetic doctor. But she went on: + +“To have a sharp woman prying into all my conditions and affairs! No, I +thank you. Don't you think so, McDonald?” + +“They do say,” the governess admitted, “that women doctors haven't as +much consideration for women's whims as men.” And, after a moment, she +continued: + +“But, for all that, women ought to understand about women better than +men can, and be the best doctors for them.” + +“So it seems to me,” said Evelyn, appealing to her mother. “Don't you +remember that day you took me down to the infirmary in which you are +interested, and how nice it was, nobody but women for doctors and nurses +and all that? Would you put that in charge of men?” + +“Oh, you child!” cried Mrs. Mavick, turning to her daughter and patting +her on the head. “Of course there are exceptions. But I'm not going to +be one of the exceptions. Ah, well, I suppose I am quite behind the age; +but the conduct of my own sex does get on my nerves sometimes.” + +Evelyn was silent. She was often so when discussions arose. They were +apt to plunge her into deep thought. To those who knew her history, +guarded from close contact with anything but the world of ideas, it +was very interesting to watch her mental attitude as she was day by +day emerging into a knowledge of the actual world and encountering +its crosscurrents. To Philip, who was getting a good idea of what her +education had been, an understanding promoted by his knowledge of the +character and attainments of her governess, her mental processes, it may +be safely said, opened a new world of thought. Not that mental processes +made much difference to a man in his condition, still, they had the +effect of setting her personality still further apart from that of other +women. One day when they happened to be tete-a-tete in one of their +frequent excursions--a rare occasion--Evelyn had said: + +“How strange it is that so many things that are self-evident nobody +seems to see, and that there are so many things that are right that +can't be done.” + +“That is the way the world is made,” Philip had replied. She was +frequently coming out with the sort of ideas and questions that are +often proposed by bright children, whose thinking processes are not only +fresh but undisturbed by the sophistries or concessions that experience +has woven into the thinking of our race. “Perhaps it hasn't your faith +in the abstract.” + +“Faith? I wonder. Do you mean that people do not dare go ahead and do +things?” + +“Well, partly. You see, everybody is hedged in by circumstances.” + +“Yes. I do begin to see circumstances. I suppose I'm a sort of a +goose--in the abstract, as you say.” And Evelyn laughed. It was the +spontaneous, contagious laugh of a child. “You know that Miss McDonald +says I'm nothing but a little idealist.” + +“Did you deny it?” + +“Oh, no. I said, so were the Apostles, all save one--he was a realist.” + +It was Philip's turn to laugh at this new definition, and upon this the +talk had drifted into the commonplaces of the summer situation and about +Rivervale and its people. Philip regretted that his vacation would +so soon be over, and that he must say good-by to all this repose and +beauty, and to the intercourse that had been so delightful to him. + +“But you will write,” Evelyn exclaimed. + +Philip was startled. + +“Write?” + +“Yes, your novel.” + +“Oh, I suppose so,” without any enthusiasm. + +“You must. I keep thinking of it. What a pleasure it must be to create a +real drama of life.” + +So this day on the veranda of the inn when Philip spoke of his hateful +departure next day, and there was a little chorus of protest, Evelyn +was silent; but her silence was of more significance to him than the +protests, for he knew her thoughts were on the work he had promised to +go on with. + +“It is too bad,” Mrs. Mavick exclaimed; “we shall be like a lot of sheep +without a shepherd.” + +“That we shall,” the governess joined in. “At any rate, you must make us +out a memorandum of what is to be seen and done and how to do it.” + +“Yes,” said Philip, gayly, “I'll write tonight a complete guide to +Rivervale.” + +“We are awfully obliged to you for what you have done.” Mrs. Mavick was +no doubt sincere in this. And she added, “Well, we shall all be back in +the city before long.” + +It was a natural thing to say, and Philip understood that there was no +invitation in it, more than that of the most conventional acquaintance. +For Mrs. Mavick the chapter was closed. + +There were the most cordial hand-shakings and good-bys, and Philip said +good-by as lightly as anybody. But as he walked along the road he knew, +or thought he was sure, that the thoughts of one of the party were going +along with him into his future, and the peaceful scene, the murmuring +river, the cat-birds and the blackbirds calling in the meadow, and the +spirit of self-confident youth in him said not good-by, but au revoir. + + + + +XIV + +Of course Philip wrote to Celia about his vacation intimacy with the +Mavicks. It was no news to her that the Mavicks were spending the +summer there; all the world knew that, and society wondered what whim of +Carmen's had taken her out of the regular summer occupations and immured +her in the country. Not that it gave much thought to her, but, when her +name was mentioned, society resented the closing of the Newport house +and the loss of her vivacity in the autumn at Lenox. She is such a hand +to set things going, don't you know? Mr. Mavick never made a flying +visit to his family--and he was in Rivervale twice during the +season--that the newspapers did not chronicle his every movement, and +attribute other motives than family affection to these excursions +into New England. Was the Central system or the Pennsylvania system +contemplating another raid? It could not be denied that the big +operator's connection with any great interest raised suspicion and often +caused anxiety. + +Naturally, thought Celia, in such a little village, Philip would fall +in with the only strangers there, so that he was giving her no news +in saying so. But there was a new tone in his letters; she detected an +unusual reserve that was in itself suspicious. Why did he say so much +about Mrs. Mavick and the governess, and so little about the girl? + +“You don't tell me,” she wrote, “anything about the Infant Phenomenon. +And you know I am dying to know.” + +This Philip resented. Phenomenon! The little brown girl, with eyes that +saw so much and were so impenetrably deep, and the mobile face, so alert +and responsive. If ever there was a natural person, it was Evelyn. So he +wrote: + +“There is nothing to tell; she is not an infant and she is not a +phenomenon. Only this: she has less rubbish in her mind than any person +you ever saw. And I guess the things she does not know about life are +not worth knowing.” + +“I see,” replied Celia; “poor boy! it's the moth and the star. [That's +just like her, muttered Philip, she always assumed to be the older.] +But don't mind. I've come to the conclusion that I am a moth myself, and +some of the lights I used to think stars have fallen. And, seriously, +dear friend, I am glad there is a person who does not know the things +not worth knowing. It is a step in the right direction. I have been this +summer up in the hills, meditating. And I am not so sure of things as +I was. I used to think that all women needed was what is called +education--science, history, literature--and you could safely turn them +loose on the world. It certainly is not safe to turn them loose without +education--but I begin to wonder what we are all coming to. I don't mind +telling you that I have got into a pretty psychological muddle, and I +don't see much to hold on to. + +“I suppose that Scotch governess is pious; I mean she has a backbone +of what they call dogma; things are right or wrong in her mind--no +haziness. Now, I am going to make a confession. I've been thinking of +religion. Don't mock. You know I was brought up religious, and I am +religious. I go to church--well, you know how I feel and especially the +things I don't believe. I go to church to be entertained. I read the +other day that Cardinal Manning said: 'The three greatest evils in +the world today are French devotional books, theatrical music, and the +pulpit orator. And the last is the worst.' I wonder. I often feel as +if I had been to a performance. No. It is not about sin that I am +especially thinking, but the sinner. One ought to do something. +Sometimes I think I ought to go to the city. You know I was in a College +Settlement for a while. Now I mean something permanent, devoted to the +poor as a life occupation, like a nun or something of that sort. You +think this is a mood? Perhaps. There have always been so many things +before me to do, and I wanted to do them all. And I do not stick to +anything? You must not presume to say that, because I confide to you all +my errant thoughts. You have not confided in me--I don't insinuate that +you have anything to confide but I cannot help saying that if you have +found a pure and clear-minded girl--Heaven knows what she will be when +she is a woman I--I am sorry she is not poor.” + +But if Philip did not pour out his heart to his old friend, he did open +a lively and frequent correspondence with Alice. Not about the person +who was always in his thoughts--oh, no--but about himself, and all he +was doing, in the not unreasonable expectation that the news would go +where he could not send it directly--so many ingenious ways has love of +attaining its object. And if Alice, no doubt, understood all this, she +was nevertheless delighted, and took great pleasure in chronicling the +news of the village and giving all the details that came in her way +about the millionaire family. This connection with the world, if only by +correspondence, was an outlet to her reserved and secluded life. And +her letters recorded more of her character, of her feeling, than he had +known in all his boyhood. When Alice mentioned, as it were by chance, +that Evelyn had asked, more than once, when she had spoken of receiving +letters, if her cousin was going on with his story, Philip felt that the +connection was not broken. + +Going on with his story he was, and with good heart. The thought that +“she” might some day read it was inspiration enough. Any real creation, +by pen or brush or chisel, must express the artist and be made in +independence of the demands of a vague public. Art is vitiated when +the commercial demand, which may be a needed stimulus, presides at the +creation. But it is doubtful if any artist in letters, or in form +or color, ever did anything well without having in mind some special +person, whose approval was desired or whose criticism was feared. Such +is the universal need of human sympathy. It is, at any rate, true that +Philip's story, recast and reinspired, was thenceforth written under the +spell of the pure divining eyes of Evelyn Mavick. Unconsciously this was +so. For at this time Philip had not come to know that the reason why so +many degraded and degrading stories and sketches are written is because +the writers' standard is the approval of one or two or a group of +persons of vitiated tastes and low ideals. + +The Mavicks did not return to town till late in the autumn. By this time +Philip's novel had been submitted to a publisher, or, rather, to state +the exact truth, it had begun to go the rounds of the publishers. Mr. +Brad, to whose nineteenth-century and newspaper eye Philip had shrunk +from confiding his modest creation, but who was consulted in the +business, consoled him with the suggestion that this was a sure way +of getting his production read. There was already in the city a +considerable body of professional “readers,” mostly young men and women, +to whom manuscripts were submitted by the publishers, so that the +author could be sure, if he kept at it long enough, to get a pretty fair +circulation for his story. They were selected because they were good +judges of literature and because they had a keen appreciation of what +the public wanted at the moment. Many of them are overworked, naturally +so, in the mass of manuscripts turned over to their inspection day after +day, and are compelled often to adopt the method of tea-tasters, who +sip but do not swallow, for to drink a cup or two of the decoction would +spoil their taste and impair their judgment, especially on new brands. +Philip liked to imagine, as the weeks passed away--the story is old and +need not be retold here--that at any given hour somebody was reading +him. He did not, however, dwell with much delight upon this process, for +the idea that some unknown Rhadamanthus was sitting in judgment upon +him much more wounded his 'amour propre', and seemed much more like an +invading of his inner, secret life and feeling, than would be an instant +appeal to the general public. Why, he thought, it is just as if I had +shown it to Brad himself--apiece of confidence that he could not +bring himself to. He did not know that Brad himself was a reader for +a well-known house--which had employed him on the strength of his +newspaper notoriety--and that very likely he had already praised the +quality of the work and damned it as lacking “snap.” + +It was, however, weary waiting, and would have been intolerable if his +duties in the law office had not excluded other thoughts from his mind +a good part of the time. There were days when he almost resolved to +confine himself to the solid and remunerative business of law, and give +up the vague aspirations of authorship. But those vague aspirations +were in the end more enticing than the courts. Common-sense is not an +antidote to the virus of the literary infection when once a young soul +has taken it. In his long walks it was not on the law that Philip +was ruminating, nor was the fame of success in it occupying his mind. +Suppose he could write one book that should touch the heart of the +world. Would he exchange the sweetness of that for the fleeting +reputation of the most brilliant lawyer? In short, he magnified beyond +all reason the career and reputation of the author, and mistook the +consideration he occupies in the great world. And what a world it would +be if there had not been a continuous line of such mistaken fools as he! + +That it was not literature alone that inflated his dreams was evidenced +by the direction his walks took. Whatever their original destination or +purpose, he was sure to pass through upper Fifth Avenue, and walk by the +Mavick mansion. And never without a lift in his spirits. What comfort +there is to a lover in gazing at the blank and empty house once occupied +by his mistress has never been explained; but Philip would have counted +the day lost in which he did not see it. + +After he heard from Alice that the Mavicks had returned, the house had +still stronger attractions for him, for there was added the chance of +a glimpse of Evelyn or one of the family. Many a day passed, however, +before he mustered up courage to mount the steps and touch the button. + +“Yes, sir,” said the servant, “the family is returned, but they is +h'out.” + +Philip left his card. But nothing came of it, and he did not try again. +In fact, he was a little depressed as the days went by. How much doubt +and anxiety, even suffering, might have been spared him if the historian +at that moment could have informed him of a little shopping incident at +Tiffany's a few days after the Mavicks' return. + +A middle-aged lady and a young girl were inspecting some antiques. The +girl, indeed, had been asking for ancient coins, and they were shown two +superb gold staters with the heads of Alexander and Philip. + +“Aren't they beautiful?” said the younger. “How lovely one would be for +a brooch!” + +“Yes, indeed,” replied the elder, “and quite in the line of our Greek +reading.” + +The girl held them in her hand and looked at one and the other with a +student's discrimination. + +“Which would you choose?” + +“Oh, both are fine. Philip of Macedon has a certain youthful freshness, +in the curling hair and uncovered head. But, of course, Alexander the +Great is more important, and then there is the classic casque. I should +take the Alexander.” The girl still hesitated, weighing the choice in +her mind from the classic point of view. + +“Doubtless you are right. But”--and she held up the lovely head--“this +is not quite so common, and--and--I think I'll take the Macedon one. +Yes, you may set that for me,” turning to the salesman. + +“Diamonds or pearls?” asked the jeweler. + +“Oh, dear, no!” exclaimed the girl; “just the head.” + +Evelyn's education was advancing. For the first time in her life she had +something to conceal. The privilege of this sort of secret is, however, +an inheritance of Eve. The first morning she wore it at breakfast Mrs. +Mavick asked her what it was. + +“It's a coin, antique Greek,” Evelyn replied, passing it across the +table. + +“How pretty it is; it is very pretty. Ought to have pearls around it. +Seems to be an inscription on it.” + +“Yes, it is real old. McDonald says it is a stater, about the same as a +Persian daric-something like the value of a sovereign.” + +“Oh, indeed; very interesting.” + +To give Evelyn her due, it must be confessed that she blushed at this +equivocation about the inscription, and she got quite hot with shame +thinking what would become of her if Philip should ever know that she +was regarding him as a stater and wearing his name on her breast. + +One can fancy what philosophical deductions as to the education of women +Celia Howard would have drawn out of this coin incident; one of them +doubtless being that a classical education is no protection against +love. + +But for Philip's connection with the thriving firm of Hunt, Sharp & +Tweedle, it is safe to say that he would have known little of the world +of affairs in Wall Street, and might never have gained entrance into +that other world, for which Wall Street exists, that society where its +wealth and ambitious vulgarity are displayed. Thomas Mavick was a client +of the firm. At first they had been only associated with his lawyer, and +consulted occasionally. But as time went on Mr. Mavick opened to +them his affairs more and more, as he found the advantage of being +represented to the public by a firm that combined the highest social +and professional standing with all the acumen and adroitness that his +complicated affairs required. + +It was a time of great financial feverishness and uncertainty, and of +opportunity for the most reckless adventurers. Houses the most solid +were shaken and crippled, and those which were much extended in a +variety of adventures were put to their wits' ends to escape shipwreck. +Financial operations are perpetual war. It is easy to calculate about +the regular forces, but the danger is from the unexpected “raids” + and the bushwhackers and guerrillas. And since politics has become +inextricably involved in financial speculations (as it has in real war), +the excitement and danger of business on a large scale increase. + +Philip as a trusted clerk, without being admitted into interior secrets, +came to know a good deal about Mavick's affairs, and to be more than +ever impressed with his enormous wealth and the magnitude of his +operations. From time to time he was sent on errands to Mavick's office, +and gradually, as Mavick became accustomed to him as a representative of +the firm, they came on a somewhat familiar footing, and talked of +other things than business. And Mavick, who was not a bad judge of the +capacities of men, conceived a high idea of Philip's single-mindedness, +of his integrity and general culture, and, as well, of his agreeableness +(for Philip had a certain charm where he felt at ease), while at the +same time he discovered that his mind was more upon something else +than law, and that, if his success in his profession depended upon his +adoption of the business methods of the Street, he could not go very +far. Consequently he did not venture upon the same confidences with him +that he habitually did with Mr. Sharp. Yet, business aside, he had an +intellectual pleasure in exchanging views with Philip which Mr. Sharp's +conversation did not offer him. + +When, therefore, Mrs. Mavick came to consult her husband about the list +for the coming-out reception of Evelyn, Philip found a friend at court. + +“It is all plain enough,” said Carmen, as she sat down with book and +pencil in hand, “till you come to the young men, the unattached young +men. Here is my visiting-list, that of course. But for the young ladies +we must have more young men. Can't you suggest any?” + +“Perhaps. I know a lot of young fellows.” + +“But I mean available young men, those that count socially. I don't want +a broker's board or a Chamber of Commerce here.” + +Mr. Mavick named half a dozen, and Carmen looked for their names in the +social register. “Any more?” + +“Why, you forgot young Burnett, who was with you last summer at +Rivervale. I thought you liked him.” + +“So I did in Rivervale. Plain farmer people. Yes, he was very nice to +us. I've been thinking if I couldn't send him something Christmas and +pay off the debt.” + +“He'd think a great deal more of an invitation to your reception.” + +“But you don't understand. You never think of Evelyn's future. We are +asking people that we think she ought to know.” + +“Well, Burnett is a very agreeable fellow.” + +“Fiddlesticks! He is nothing but a law clerk. Worse than that, he is a +magazine writer.” + +“I thought you liked his essays and stories.” + +“So I do. But you don't want to associate with everybody you like that +way. I am talking about society. You must draw the line somewhere. Oh, I +forgot Fogg--Dr. LeRoy Fogg, from Pittsburg.” And down went the name of +Fogg. + +“You mean that young swell whose business it is to drive a four-in-hand +to Yonkers and back, and toot on a horn?” + +“Well, what of that? Everybody who is anybody, I mean all the girls, +want to go on his coach.” + +“Oh, Lord! I'd rather go on the Elevated.” And Mavick laughed very +heartily, for him. “Well, I'll make a compromise. You take Fogg and I'll +take Burnett. He is in a good firm, he belongs to a first-rate club, +he goes to the Hunts' and the Scammels', I hear of him in good places. +Come.” + +“Well, if you make a point of it. I've nothing against him. But if you +knew the feelings of a mother about her only daughter you would know, +that you cannot be too careful.” + +When, several days after this conversation, Philip received his big +invitation, gorgeously engraved on what he took to be a sublimated +sort of wrapping-paper, he felt ashamed that he had doubted the sincere +friendship and the goodness of heart of Mrs. Mavick. + + + + +XV + +One morning in December, Philip was sent down to Mr. Mavick's office +with some important papers. He was kept waiting a considerable time +in the outer room where the clerks were at work. A couple of clerks at +desks near the chair he occupied were evidently discussing some one and +he overheard fragments of sentences--“Yes, that's he.” “Well, I guess +the old man's got his match this time.” + +When he was admitted to the private office, he encountered coming out in +the anteroom a man of striking appearance. For an instant they were face +to face, and then bowed and passed on. The instant seemed to awaken some +memory in Philip which greatly puzzled him. + +The man had closely cropped black hair, black Whiskers, a little +curling, but also closely trimmed, piercing black eyes, and the +complexion of a Spaniard. The nose was large but regular, the mouth +square-cut and firm, and the powerful jaw emphasized the decision of the +mouth. The frame corresponded with the head. It was Herculean, and yet +with no exaggerated developments. The man was over six feet in height, +the shoulders were square, the chest deep, the hips and legs modeled for +strength, and with no superfluous flesh. Philip noticed, as they fronted +each other for an instant and the stranger raised his hat, that his +hands and feet were smaller than usually accompany such a large frame. +The impression was that of great physical energy, self-confidence, and +determined will. The face was not bad, certainly not in detail, and +even the penetrating eyes seemed at the moment capable of a humorous +expression, but it was that of a man whom you would not like to have +your enemy. He wore a business suit of rough material and fashionable +cut, but he wore it like a man who did not give much thought to his +clothes. + +“What a striking-looking man,” said Philip, motioning with his hand +towards the anteroom as he greeted Mr. Mavick. + +“Who, Ault?” answered Mavick, indifferently. + +“Ault! What, Murad Ault?” + +“Nobody else.” + +“Is it possible? I thought I saw a resemblance. Several times I have +wondered, but I fancied it only a coincidence of names. It seemed +absurd. Why, I used to know Murad Ault when we were boys. And to think +that he should be the great Murad Ault.” + +“He hasn't been that for more than a couple of years,” Mavick answered, +with a smile at the other's astonishment, and then, with more interest, +“What do you know about him?” + +“If this is the same person, he used to live at Rivervale. Came there, +no one knew where from, and lived with his mother, a little withered old +woman, on a little cleared patch up in the hills, in a comfortable sort +of shanty. She used to come to the village with herbs and roots to sell. +Nobody knew whether she was a gypsy or a decayed lady, she had such an +air, and the children were half afraid of her, as a sort of witch. Murad +went to school, and occasionally worked for some farmer, but nobody knew +him; he rarely spoke to any one, and he had the reputation of being a +perfect devil; his only delight seemed to be in doing some dare-devil +feat to frighten the children. We used to say that Murad Ault would +become either a pirate or--” + +“Broker,” suggested Mr. Mavick, with a smile. + +“I didn't know much about brokers at that time,” Philip hastened to say, +and then laughed himself at his escape from actual rudeness. + +“What became of him?” + +“Oh, he just disappeared. After I went away to school I heard that his +mother had died, and Murad had gone off--gone West it was said. Nothing +was ever heard of him.” + +The advent and rise of Murad Ault in New York was the sort of phenomenon +to which the metropolis, which picks up its great men as Napoleon did +his marshals, is accustomed. The mystery of his origin, which was at +first against him, became at length an element of his strength and of +the fear he inspired, as a sort of elemental force of unknown power. +Newspaper biographies of him constantly appeared, but he had evaded +every attempt to include him and his portrait in the Lives of Successful +Men. The publishers of these useful volumes for stimulating speculation +and ambition did not dare to take the least liberties with Murad Ault. + +The man was like the boy whom Philip remembered. Doubtless he +appreciated now as then the value of the mystery that surrounded his +name and origin; and he very soon had a humorous conception of the +situation that made him decline to be pilloried with others in one of +those volumes, which won from a reviewer the confession that “lives +of great men all remind us we may make our lives sublime.” One of the +legends current about him was that he first appeared in New York as a +“hand” on a canal-boat, that he got employment as a check-clerk on the +dock, that he made the acquaintance of politicians in his ward, and went +into politics far enough to get a city contract, which paid him very +well and showed him how easily a resolute man could get money and use it +in the city. He was first heard of in Wall Street as a curbstone broker, +taking enormous risks and always lucky. Very soon he set up an office, +with one clerk or errand-boy, and his growing reputation for sagacity +and boldness began to attract customers; his ventures soon engaged the +attention of guerrillas like himself, who were wont to consult him. +They found that his advice was generally sound, and that he had not only +sensitiveness but prescience about the state of the market. His office +was presently enlarged, and displayed a modest sign of “Murad Ault, +Banker and Broker.” + +Mr. Ault's operations constantly enlarged, his schemes went beyond the +business of registering other people's bets and taking a commission on +them; he was known as a daring but successful promoter, and he had a +visible ownership in steamships and railways, and projected such vast +operations as draining the Jersey marshes. If he had been a citizen +of Italy he would have attacked the Roman Campagna with the same +confidence. At any rate, he made himself so much felt and seemed to +command so many resources that it was not long before he forced his way +into the Stock Exchange and had a seat in the Board of Brokers. He +was at first an odd figure there. There was something flash about his +appearance, and his heavy double watch-chain and diamond shirt-studs +gave him the look of an ephemeral adventurer. But he soon took his cue, +the diamonds disappeared, and the dress was toned down. There seemed to +be two models in the Board, the smart and neat, and the hayseed style +adopted by some of the most wily old operators, who posed as honest +dealers who retained their rural simplicity. Mr. Ault adopted a middle +course, and took the respectable yet fashionable, solid dress of a man +of affairs. + +There is no other place in the world where merit is so quickly +recognized as in the Stock Exchange, especially if it is backed by brass +and a good head. Ault's audacity made him feared; he was believed to +be as unscrupulous as he was reckless, but this did not much injure his +reputation when it was seen that he was marvelously successful. That +Ault would wreck the market, if he could and it was to his advantage, no +one doubted; but still he had a quality that begot confidence. He kept +his word. Though men might be shy of entering into a contract with Ault, +they learned that what he said he would do he would do literally. He was +not a man of many words, but he was always decided and apparently open, +and, as whatever he touched seemed to thrive, his associates got the +habit of saying, “What Ault says goes.” + +Murad Ault had married, so it was said, the daughter of a boarding-house +keeper on the dock. She was a pretty girl, had been educated in a +convent (perhaps by his aid after he was engaged to marry her), and +was a sweet mother to a little brood of charming children, and a devout +member of her parish church. Those who had seen Mrs. Ault when her +carriage took her occasionally to Ault's office in the city were much +impressed by her graceful manner and sweet face, and her appearance gave +Ault a sort of anchorage in the region of respectability. No one would +have accused Ault of being devoted to any special kind of religious +worship; but he was equally tolerant of all religions, and report said +was liberal in his wife's church charities. Besides the fact that he +owned a somewhat pretentious house in Sixtieth Street, society had very +little knowledge of him. + +It was, however, undeniable that he was a power in the Street. No other +man's name was oftener mentioned in the daily journals in connection +with some bold and successful operation. He seemed to thrive on panics, +and to grow strong and rich with every turn of the wheel. There is +only one stock expression in America for a man who is very able and +unscrupulous, and carries things successfully with a high hand--he is +Napoleonic. It needed only a few brilliant operations, madly reckless in +appearance but successful, to give Ault the newspaper sobriquet of the +Young Napoleon. + +“Papa, what does he mean?” asked the eldest boy. “Jim Dustin says the +papers call you Napoleon.” + +“It means, my boy,” said Ault, with a grim smile, “that I am devoted to +your mother, St. Helena.” + +“Don't say that, Murad,” exclaimed his wife; “I'm far enough from a +saint, and your destiny isn't the Island.” + +“What's the Island, mamma?” + +“It's a place people are sent to for their health.” + +“In a boat? Can I go?” + +“You ask too many questions, Sinclair,” said Mr. Ault; “it's time you +were off to school.” + +There seems to have been not the least suspicion in this household that +the head of it was a pirate. + +It must be said that Mavick still looked upon Ault as an adventurer, +one of those erratic beings who appear from time to time in the +Street, upset everything, and then disappear. They had been associated +occasionally in small deals, and Ault had more than once appealed to +Mavick, as a great capitalist, with some promising scheme. They had, +indeed, co-operated in reorganizing a Western railway, but seemed to +have come out of the operation without increased confidence in each +other. What had occurred nobody knew, but thereafter there developed +a slight antagonism between the two operators. Ault went no more to +consult the elder man, and they had two or three little bouts, in which +Mavick did not get the best of it. This was not an unusual thing in +the Street. Mr. Ault never expressed his opinion of Mr. Mavick, but it +became more and more apparent that their interests were opposed. Some +one who knew both men, and said that the one was as cold and selfish as +a pike, and the other was a most unscrupulous dare-devil, believed that +Mavick had attempted some sort of a trick on Ault, and that it was +the kind of thing that the Spaniard (his complexion had given him this +nickname) never forgot. + +It is not intended to enter into a defense of the local pool known +as the New York Stock Exchange. It needs none. Some regard it as a +necessary standpipe to promote and equalize distribution, others consult +it as a sort of Nilometer, to note the rise and fall of the waters and +the probabilities of drought or flood. Everybody knows that it is full +of the most gamy and beautiful fish in the world--namely, the speckled +trout, whose honest occupation it is to devour whatever is thrown into +the pool--a body governed by the strictest laws of political economy in +guarding against over-population, by carrying out the Malthusian +idea, in the habit the big ones have of eating the little ones. But +occasionally this harmonious family, which is animated by one of the +most conspicuous traits of human nature--to which we owe very much of +our progress--namely, the desire to get hold of everything within +reach, and is such a useful object-lesson of the universal law of upward +struggle that results in the survival of the fittest, this harmonious +family is disturbed by the advent of a pickerel, which makes a raid, +introduces confusion into all the calculations of the pool, roils the +water, and drives the trout into their holes. + +The presence in the pool of a slimy eel or a blundering bullhead or a +lethargic sucker is bad enough, but the rush in of the pickerel is the +advent of the devil himself. Until he is got rid of, all the delicate +machinery for the calculation of chances is hopelessly disturbed; and no +one could tell what would become of the business of the country if there +were not a considerable number of devoted men engaged in registering +its fluctuations and the change of values, and willing to back their +opinions by investing their own capital or, more often, the capital of +others. + +This somewhat mixed figure cannot be pursued further without losing its +analogy, becoming fantastic, and violating natural law. For it is +matter of observation that in this arena the pickerel, if he succeeds in +clearing out the pool, suddenly becomes a trout, and is respected as the +biggest and most useful fish in the pond. + +What is meant is simply that Murad Ault was fighting for position, and +that for some reason, known to himself, Thomas Mavick stood in his way. +Mr. Mavick had never been under the necessity of making such a contest. +He stepped into a commanding position as the manager if not the owner of +the great fortune of Rodney Henderson. His position was undisputed, for +the Street believed with the world in the magnitude of that fortune, +though there were shrewd operators who said that Mavick had more chicane +but not a tenth part of the ability of Rodney Henderson. Mr. Ault had +made the fortune the object of keen scrutiny, when his antagonism was +aroused, and none knew better than he its assailable points. Henderson +had died suddenly in the midst of vast schemes which needed his genius +to perfect. Apparently the Mavick estate was second to only a few +fortunes in the country. Mr. Ault had set himself to find out whether +this vast structure stood upon rock foundations. The knowledge he +acquired about it and his intentions he communicated to no one. But the +drift of his mind might be gathered from a remark he made to his wife +one day, when some social allusion was made to Mavick: “I'll bring down +that snob.” + +The use of such men as Ault in the social structure is very doubtful, as +doubtful as that of a summer tempest or local cyclone, which it is said +clears the air and removes rubbish, but is a scourge that involves +the innocent as often as the guilty. It is popularly supposed that the +disintegration and distribution of a great fortune, especially if it has +been accumulated by doubtful methods, is a benefit to mankind. Mr. +Ault may have shared this impression, but it is unlikely that he +philosophized on the subject. No one, except perhaps his own family, had +ever discovered that he had any sensibilities that could be appealed to, +and, if he had known the ideas beginning to take shape in the mind +of the millionaire heiress in regard to this fortune, he would have +approved or comprehended them as little as did her mother. + +Evelyn had lived hitherto with little comprehension of her peculiar +position. That the world went well with her, and that no obstacle +was opposed to the gratification of her reasonable desires, or to her +impulses of charity and pity, was about all she knew of her power. +But she was now eighteen and about to appear in the world. Her mother, +therefore, had been enlightening her in regard to her expectations and +the career that lay open to her. And Carmen thought the girl a little +perverse, in that this prospect, instead of exciting her worldly +ambition, seemed to affect her only seriously as a matter of +responsibility. + +In their talks Mrs. Mavick was in fact becoming acquainted with the mind +of her daughter, and learning, somewhat to her chagrin, the limitations +of her education produced by the policy of isolation. + +To her dismay, she found that the girl did not care much for the +things that she herself cared most for. The whole world of society, its +strifes, ambitions, triumphs, defeats, rewards, did not seem to Evelyn +so real or so important as that world in which she had lived with her +governess and her tutors. And, worse than this, the estimate she placed +upon the values of material things was shockingly inadequate to her +position. + +That her father was a very great man was one of the earliest things +Evelyn began to know, exterior to herself. This was impressed upon her +by the deference paid to him not only at home but wherever they went, +and by the deference shown to her as his daughter. And she was proud +of this. He was not one of the great men whose careers she was familiar +with in literature, not a general or a statesman or an orator or a +scientist or a poet or a philanthropist she never thought of him in +connection with these heroes of her imagination--but he was certainly +a great power in the world. And she had for him a profound admiration, +which might have become affection if Mavick had ever taken the pains +to interest himself in the child's affairs. Her mother she loved, and +believed there could be no one in the world more sweet and graceful +and attractive, and as she grew up she yearned for more of the motherly +companionship, for something more than the odd moments of petting that +were given to her in the whirl of the life of a woman of the world. What +that life was, however, she had only the dimmest comprehension, and it +was only in the last two years, since she was sixteen, that she began to +understand it, and that mainly in contrast to her own guarded life. And +she was now able to see that her own secluded life had been unusual. + +Not till long after this did she speak to any one of her experience as +a child, of the time when she became conscious that she was never alone, +and that she was only free to act within certain limits. + +To McDonald, indeed, she had often shown her irritation, and it was only +the strong good sense of the governess that kept her from revolt. It +was not until very recently that it could be explained to her, without +putting her in terror hourly, why she must always be watched and +guarded. + +It had required all the tact and sophistry of her governess to make +her acquiesce in a system of education--so it was called-that had been +devised in order to give her the highest and purest development. That +the education was mainly left to McDonald, and that her parents were +simply anxious about her safety, she did not learn till long afterwards. +In the first years Mrs. Mavick had been greatly relieved to be spared +all the care of the baby, and as the years went on, the arrangement +seemed more and more convenient, and she gave little thought to the +character that was being formed. To Mr. Mavick, indeed, as to his wife, +it was enough to see that she was uncommonly intelligent, and that she +had a certain charm that made her attractive. Mrs. Mavick took it for +granted that when it came time to introduce her into the world she would +be like other girls, eager for its pleasures and susceptible to all its +allurements. Of the direction of the undercurrents of the girl's life +she had no conception, until she began to unfold to her the views of the +world that prevailed in her circle, and what (in the Carmen scheme of +life) ought to be a woman's ambition. + +That she was to be an heiress Evelyn had long known, that she would +one day have a great fortune at her disposal had indeed come into her +serious thought, but the brilliant use of it in relation to herself, +at which her mother was always lately hinting, came to her as a +disagreeable shock. For the moment the fortune seemed to her rather +a fetter than an opportunity, if she was to fulfill her mother's +expectations. These hints were conveyed with all the tact of which her +mother was master, but the girl was nevertheless somewhat alarmed, +and she began to regard the “coming out” as an entrance into servitude +rather than an enlargement of liberty. One day she surprised Miss +McDonald by asking her if she didn't think that rich people were the +only ones not free to do as they pleased? + +“Why, my dear, it is not generally so considered. Most people fancy that +if they had money enough they could do anything.” + +“Yes, of course,” said the girl, putting down her stitching and looking +up; “that is not exactly what I mean. They can go in the current, they +can do what they like with their money, but I mean with themselves. +Aren't they in a condition that binds them half the time to do what they +don't wish to do?” + +“It's a condition that all the world is trying to get into.” + +“I know. I've been talking with mamma about the world and about society, +and what is expected and what you must live up to.” + +“But you have always known that you must one day go into the world and +take your share in life.” + +“That, yes. But I would rather live up to myself. Mamma seems to think +that society will do a great deal for me, that I will get a wider view +of life, that I can do so much for society, and, with my position, mamma +says, have such a career. McDonald, what is society for?” + +That was such a poser that the governess threw up her hands, and then +laughed aloud, and then shook her head. “Wiser people than you have +asked that question.” + +“I asked mamma that, for she is in it all the time. She didn't like it +much, and asked, 'What is anything for?' You see, McDonald, I've been +with mamma many a time when her friends came to see her, and they +never have anything to say, never--what I call anything. I wonder if in +society they go about saying that? What do they do it for?” + +Miss McDonald had her own opinion about what is called society and its +occupations and functions, but she did not propose to encourage this +girl, who would soon take her place in it, in such odd notions. + +“Don't you know, child, that there is society and society? That it is +all sorts of a world, that it gets into groups and circles about, and +that is the way the world is stirred up and kept from stagnation. And, +my dear, you have just to do your duty where you are placed, and that is +all there is about it.” + +“Don't be cross, McDonald. I suppose I can think my thoughts?” + +“Yes, you can think, and you can learn to keep a good deal that you +think to yourself. Now, Evelyn, haven't you any curiosity to see what +this world we are talking about is like?” + +“Indeed I have,” said Evelyn, coming out of her reflective mood into +a girlish enthusiasm. “And I want to see what I shall be like in it. +Only--well, how is that?” And she held out the handkerchief she had been +plying her needle on. + +Miss McDonald looked at the stitches critically, at the letters T.M. +enclosed in an oval. + +“That is very good, not too mechanical. It will please your father. +The oval makes a pretty effect; but what are those signs between the +letters?” + +“Don't you see? It is a cartouche, and those are hieroglyphics--his name +in Egyptian. I got it out of Petrie's book.” + +“It certainly is odd.” + +“And every one of the twelve is going to be different. It is so +interesting to hunt up the signs for qualities. If papa can read it he +will find out a good deal that I think about him.” + +The governess only smiled for reply. It was so like Evelyn, so different +from others even in the commonplace task of marking handkerchiefs, to +work a little archaeology into her expression of family affection. + +Mrs. Mavick's talks with her daughter in which she attempted to give +Evelyn some conception of her importance as the heiress of a great +fortune, of her position in society, what would be expected of her, +and of the brilliant social career her mother imagined for her, had an +effect opposite to that intended. There had been nothing in her shielded +life, provided for at every step without effort, that had given her any +idea of the value and importance of money. + +To a girl in her position, educated in the ordinary way and mingling +with school companions, one of the earliest lessons would be a +comprehension of the power that wealth gave her; and by the time that +she was of Evelyn's age her opinion of men would begin to be colored by +the notion that they were polite or attentive to her on account of +her fortune and not for any charm of hers, and so a cruel suspicion of +selfishness would have entered her mind to poison the very thought of +love. + +No such idea had entered Evelyn's mind. She would not readily have +understood that love could have any sort of relation to riches or +poverty. And if, deep down in her heart, not acknowledged, scarcely +recognized, by herself, there had begun to grow an image about which she +had sweet and tender thoughts, it certainly did not occur to her that +her father's wealth could make any difference in the relations of +friendship or even of affection. And as for the fortune, if she was, as +her mother said, some day to be mistress of it, she began to turn over +in her mind objects quite different from the display and the career +suggested by her mother, and to think how she could use it. + +In her ignorance of practical life and of what the world generally +values, of course the scheme that was rather hazy in her mind was simply +Quixotic, as appeared in a conversation with her father one evening +while he smoked his cigar. He had called Evelyn to the library, on the +suggestion of Carmen that he should “have a little talk with the girl.” + +Mr. Mavick began, when Evelyn was seated beside him, and he had drawn +her close to him and she had taken possession of his big hand with both +her little hands, about the reception and about balls to come, and the +opera, and what was going on in New York generally in the season, and +suddenly asked: + +“My dear, if you had a lot of money, what would you do with it?” + +“What would you?” said the girl, looking up into his face. “What do +people generally do?” + +“Why,” and Mavick hesitated, “they use it to add more to it.” + +“And then?” pursued the girl. + +“I suppose they leave it to somebody. Suppose it was left to you?” + +“Don't think me silly, papa; I've thought a lot about it, and I shall do +something quite different.” + +“Different from what?” + +“You know mamma is in the Orthopedic Hospital, and in the Ragged +Schools, and in the Infirmary, and I don't know what all.” + +“And wouldn't you help them?” + +“Of course, I would help. But everybody does those things, the practical +things, the charities; I mean to do things for the higher life.” + +Mr. Mavick took his cigar from his mouth and looked puzzled. “You want +to build a cathedral?” + +“No, I don't mean that sort of higher life, I mean civilization, the +things at the top. I read an essay the other day that said it was easy +to raise money for anything mechanical and practical in a school, but +nobody wanted to give for anything ideal.” + +“Quite right,” said her father; “the world is full of cranks. You seem +as vague as your essayist.” + +“Don't you remember, papa, when we were in Oxford how amused you were +with the master, or professor, who grumbled because the college was full +of students, and there wasn't a single college for research? + +“I asked McDonald afterwards what he meant; that is how I first got my +idea, but I didn't see exactly what it was until recently. You've got +to cultivate the high things--that essay says--the abstract, that +which does not seem practically useful, or society will become low and +material.” + +“By George!” cried Mavick, with a burst of laughter, “you've got the +lingo. Go on, I want to see where you are going to light.” + +“Well, I'll tell you some more. You know my tutor is English. McDonald +says she believes he is the most learned man in eighteenth-century +literature living, and his dream is to write a history of it. He is +poor, and engaged all the time teaching, and McDonald says he will die, +no doubt, and leave nothing of his investigations to the world.” + +“And you want to endow him?” + +“He is only one. There is the tutor of history. Teach, teach, teach, and +no time or strength left for investigation. You ought to hear him tell +of the things just to be found out in American history. You see what I +mean? It is plainer in the sciences. The scholars who could really +make investigations, and do something for the world, have to earn their +living and have no time or means for experiments. It seems foolish as I +say it, but I do think, papa, there is something in it.” + +“And what would you do?” + +Evelyn saw that she was making no headway, and her ideas, exposed to +so practical a man as her father, did seem rather ridiculous. But she +struck out boldly with the scheme that she had been evolving. + +“I'd found Institutions of Research, where there should be no teaching, +and students who had demonstrated that they had anything promising in +them, in science, literature, languages, history, anything, should have +the means and the opportunity to make investigations and do work. See +what a hard time inventors and men of genius have; it is pitiful.” + +“And how much money do you want for this modest scheme of yours?” + +“I hadn't thought,” said Evelyn, patting her father's hand. And then, at +a venture, “I guess about ten millions.” + +“Whew! Have you any idea how much ten millions are, or how much one +million is?” + +“Why, ten millions, if you have a hundred, is no more than one million +if you have only ten. Doesn't it depend?” + +“If it depends upon you, child, I don't think money has any value for +you whatever. You are a born financier for getting rid of a surplus. You +ought to be Secretary of the Treasury.” + +Mavick rose, lifted up his daughter, and, kissing her with more than +usual tenderness, said, “You'll learn about the world in time,” and bade +her goodnight. + + + + +XVI + +Law and love go very well together as occupations, but, when literature +is added, the trio is not harmonious. Either of the two might pull +together, but the combination of the three is certainly disastrous. + +It would be difficult to conceive of a person more obviously up in +the air than Philip at this moment. He went through his office duties +intelligently and perfunctorily, but his heart was not in the work, and +reason as he would his career did not seem to be that way. He was lured +too strongly by that siren, the ever-alluring woman who sits upon the +rocks and sings so deliciously to youth of the sweets of authorship. +He who listens once to that song hears it always in his ears, through +disappointment and success--and the success is often the greatest +disappointment--through poverty and hope deferred and heart-sickness for +recognition, through the hot time of youth and the creeping incapacity +of old age. The song never ceases. Were the longing and the hunger it +arouses ever satisfied with anything, money for instance, any more than +with fame? + +And if the law had a feeble hold on him, how much more uncertain was his +grasp on literature. He had thrown his line, he had been encouraged by +nibbles, but publishers were too wary to take hold. It seemed to him +that he had literally cast his bread upon the waters, and apparently at +an ebb tide, and his venture had gone to the fathomless sea. He had put +his heart into the story, and, more than that, his hope of something +dearer than any public favor. As he went over the story in his mind, +scene after scene, and dwelt upon the theme that held the whole in +unity, he felt that Evelyn would be touched by the recognition of her +part in the inspiration, and that the great public must give some heed +to it. Perhaps not the great public--for its liking now ran in quite +another direction, but a considerable number of people like Celia, who +were struggling with problems of life, and the Alices in country homes +who still preserved in their souls a belief in the power of a noble +life, and perhaps some critics who had not rid themselves of the old +traditions. If the publishers would only give him a chance! + +But if law and literature were to him little more than unsubstantial +dreams, the love he cherished was, in the cool examination of reason, +preposterous. What! the heiress of so many millions, brought up +doubtless in the expectation of the most brilliant worldly alliance, +the heiress with the world presently at her feet, would she look at a +lawyer's clerk and an unsuccessful scribbler? Oh, the vanity of youth +and the conceit of intellect! + +Down in his heart Philip thought that she might. And he went on nursing +this vain passion, knowing as well as any one can know the social code, +that Mr. Mavick and Mrs. Mavick would simply laugh in his face at such +a preposterous idea. And yet he knew that he had her sympathy in his +ambition, that to a certain extent she was interested in him. The girl +was too guileless to conceal that. And then suppose he should become +famous--well, not exactly famous, but an author who was talked about, +and becoming known, and said to be promising? And then he could fancy +Mavick weighing this sort of reputation in his office scales against +money, and Mrs. Mavick weighing it in her boudoir against social +position. He was a fool to think of it. And yet, suppose, suppose the +girl should come to love him. It would not be lightly. He knew that, +by looking into her deep, clear, beautiful eyes. There were in them +determination and tenacity of purpose as well as the capability of +passion. Heavens and earth, if that girl once loved, there was a force +that no opposition could subdue! That was true. But what had he to offer +to evoke such a love? + +In those days Philip saw much of Celia, who at length had given up +teaching, and had come to the city to try her experiment, into which +she was willing to embark her small income. She had taken a room in +the midst of poverty and misery on the East Side, and was studying the +situation. + +“I am not certain,” she said, “whether I or any one else can do +anything, or whether any organization down there can effect much. But I +will find out.” + +“Aren't you lonesome--and disgusted?” asked Philip. + +“Disgusted? You might as well be disgusted with one thing as another. I +am generally disgusted with the way things go. But, lonely? No, there +is too much to do and to learn. And do you know, Philip, that people are +more interesting over there, more individual, have more queer sorts of +character. I begin to believe, with a lovely philanthropist I know, who +had charge of female criminals, that 'wicked women are more interesting +than good women.'” + +“You have struck a rich mine of interest in New York, then.” + +“Don't be cynical, Phil. There are different kinds of interest. Stuff! +But I won't explain.” And then, abruptly changing the subject, “Seems to +me you have something on your mind lately. Is it the novel?” + +“Perhaps.” + +“The publishers haven't decided?” + +“I am afraid they have.” + +“Well, Philip, do you know that I think the best thing that could happen +to you would be to have the story rejected.” + +“It has been rejected several times,” said Philip. “That didn't seem to +do me any good.” + +“But finally, so that you would stop thinking about it, stop expecting +anything that way, and take up your profession in earnest.” + +“You are a nice comforter!” retorted Philip, with a sort of smirking +grin and a look of keen inspection, as if he saw something new in the +character of his adviser. “What has come over you? Suppose I should give +you that sort of sympathy in the projects you set your heart on?” + +“It does seem hard and mean, doesn't it? I knew you wouldn't like it. +That is, not now. But it is for your lifetime. As for me, I've wanted so +many things and I've tried so many things. And do you know, Phil, that +I have about come to the conclusion that the best things for us in this +world are the things we don't get.” + +“You are always coming to some new conclusion.” + +“Yes, I know. But just look at it rationally. Suppose your story is +published, cast into the sea of new books, and has a very fair sale. +What will you get out of it? You can reckon how many copies at ten cents +a copy it will need to make as much as some writers get for a trivial +magazine paper. Recognition? Yes, from a very few people. Notoriety? You +would soon find what that is. Suppose you make what is called a 'hit.' +If you did not better that with the next book, you would be called a +failure. And you must keep at it, keep giving the public something new +all the time, or you will drop out of sight. And then the anxiety and +the strain of it, and the temptation, because you must live, to lower +your ideal, and go down to what you conceive to be the buying public. +And if your story does not take the popular fancy, where will you be +then?” + +“Celia, you have become a perfect materialist. You don't allow anything +for the joy of creation, for the impulse of a man's mind, for the +delight in fighting for a place in the world of letters.” + +“So it seems to you now. If you have anything that must be said, of +course you ought to say it, no matter what comes after. If you are +looking round for something you can say in order to get the position you +covet, that is another thing. People so deceive themselves about this. +I know literary workers who lead a dog's life and are slaves to their +pursuit, simply because they have deceived themselves in this. I want +you to be free and independent, to live your own life and do what work +you can in the world. There, I've said it, and of course you will go +right on. I know you. And maybe I am all wrong. When I see the story I +may take the other side and urge you to go on, even if you are as +poor as a church-mouse, and have to be under the harrow of poverty for +years.” + +“Then you have some curiosity to see the story?” + +“You know I have. And I know I shall like it. It isn't that, Phil; it is +what is the happiest career for you.” + +“Well, I will send it to you when it comes back.” + +But the unexpected happened. It did not come back. One morning Philip +received a letter from the publishers that set his head in a whirl. The +story was accepted. The publisher wrote that the verdict of the readers +was favorable, and he would venture on it, though he cautioned Mr. +Burnett not to expect a great commercial success. And he added, as +to terms, it being a new name, though he hoped one that would become +famous, that the copyright of ten per cent. would not begin until after +the sale of the first thousand copies. + +The latter part of the letter made no impression on Philip. So long as +the book was published, and by a respectable firm, he was indifferent as +a lord to the ignoble details of royalty. The publisher had recognized +the value of the book, and it was accepted on its merits. That was +enough. The first thing he did was to enclose the letter to Celia, +with the simple remark that he would try to sympathize with her in her +disappointment. + +Philip would have been a little less jubilant if he had known how the +decision of the publishing house was arrived at. It was true that the +readers had reported favorably, but had refused to express any opinion +on the market value. The manuscript had therefore been put in the +graveyard of manuscripts, from which there is commonly no resurrection +except in the funeral progress of the manuscript back to the author. +But the head of the house happened to dine at the house of Mr. Hunt, the +senior of Philip's law firm. Some chance allusion was made by a lady to +an article in a recent magazine which had pleased her more than anything +she had seen lately. Mr. Hunt also had seen it, for his wife had +insisted on reading it to him, and he was proud to say that the author +was a clerk in his office--a fine fellow, who, he always fancied, had +more taste for literature than for law, but he had the stuff in him to +succeed in anything. The publisher pricked up his ears and asked some +questions. He found that Mr. Burnett stood well in the most prominent +law firm in the city, that ladies of social position recognized his +talent, that he dined here and there in a good set, and that he belonged +to one of the best clubs. When he went to his office the next morning he +sent for the manuscript, looked it over critically, and then announced +to his partners that he thought the thing was worth trying. + +In a day or two it was announced in the advertising lists as +forthcoming. There it stared Philip in the face and seemed to be the +only conspicuous thing in the journal. He had not paid much attention +before to the advertisements, but now this department seemed the most +interesting part of the paper, and he read every announcement, and then +came back and read his over and over. There it stood:--“On Saturday, The +Puritan Nun. An Idyl. By Philip Burnett.” + +The naming of the book had been almost as difficult as the creation. +His first choice had been “The Lily of the Valley,” but Balzac had +pre-empted that. And then he had thought of “The Enclosed Garden” + (Hortus Clausus), the title of a lovely picture he had seen. That was +Biblical, but in the present ignorance of the old scriptures it would +be thought either agricultural or sentimental. It is not uncommon that +a book owes its notoriety and sale to its title, and it is not easy to +find a title that will attract attention without being too sensational. +The title chosen was paradoxical, for while a nun might be a puritan, it +was unthinkable that a Puritan should be a nun. + +Mr. Brad said he liked it, because it looked well and did not mean +anything; he liked all such titles, the “Pious Pirate,” the “Lucid +Lunatic,” the “Sympathetic Siren,” the “Guileless Girl,” and so on. + +The announcement of publication had the effect of putting Philip in +high spirits for the Mavick reception-spirits tempered, however, by +the embarrassment natural to a modest man that he would be painfully +conspicuous. This first placarding of one's name is a peculiar and +mixed sensation. The letters seem shamefully naked, and the owner seems +exposed and to have parted with a considerable portion of his innate +privacy. His first fancy is that everybody will see it. But this fancy +only comes once. With experience he comes to doubt if anybody except +himself will see it. + +To those most concerned the Mavick reception was the event of a +lifetime. To the town--that is, to a thousand or two persons occupying +in their own eyes an exclusive position it was one of the events of +the season, and, indeed, it was the sensation for a couple of days. The +historian of social life formerly had put upon him the task of painfully +describing all that went to make such an occasion brilliant--the house +itself, the decorations, the notable company, men distinguished in the +State or the Street, women as remarkable for their beauty as for their +courage in its exhibition, the whole world of fashion and of splendid +extravagance upon which the modiste and the tailor could look with as +much pride as the gardener does upon a show of flowers which his genius +has brought to perfection. + +The historian has no longer this responsibility. It is transferred to +a kind of trust. A race of skillful artists has arisen, who, in +combination with the caterers, the decorators, and the milliners, +produce a composite piece of literature in which all details are woven +into a splendid whole--a composition rhetorical, humorous, lyrical, +a noble apotheosis of wealth and beauty which carefully satisfies +individual vanity and raises in the mind a noble picture of modern +civilization. The pen and the pencil contribute to this splendid result +in the daily chronicle of our life. Those who are not present are really +witnesses of the scene, and this pictorial and literary triumph is +justified in the fact that no other effort of the genius of reproduction +is so eagerly studied by the general public. Not only in the city, but +in the remote villages, these accounts are perused with interest, and it +must be taken as an evidence of the new conception of the duties of the +favored of fortune to the public pleasure that the participants in these +fetes overcome, though reluctantly, their objection to notoriety. + +No other people in the world are so hospitable as the Americans, and so +willing to incur discomfort in showing hospitality. No greater proof of +this can be needed than the effort to give princely entertainments in +un-princely houses, where opposing streams of guests fight for progress +in scant passages and on narrow stairways, and pack themselves in +stifling rooms. The Mavick house, it should be said, was perfectly +adapted to the throng that seemed to fill but did not crowd it. The +spacious halls, the noble stairways, the ample drawing-rooms, the +ballroom, the music-room, the library, the picture-gallery, the +dining-room, the conservatory--into these the crowd flowed or lingered +without confusion or annoyance and in a continual pleasure of surprise. +“The best point of view,” said an artist of Philip's acquaintance, “is +just here.” They were standing in the great hall looking up at that +noble gallery from which flowed down on either hand a broad stairway. + +“I didn't know there was so much beauty in New York. It never before had +such an opportunity to display itself. There is room for the exhibition +of the most elaborate toilets, and the costumes really look regal in +such a setting.” + +When Philip was shown to the dressing-room, conscious that the servant +was weighing him lightly in the social scale on account of his early +arrival, he found a few men who were waiting to make their appearance +more seasonable. They were young men, who had the air of being bored +by this sort of thing, and greeted each other with a look of courteous +surprise, as much as to say, “Hello! you here?” One of them, whom Philip +knew slightly, who had the reputation of being the distributer if not +the fountain of social information, and had the power of attracting +gossip as a magnet does iron filings, gave Philip much valuable +information concerning the function. + +“Mrs. Mavick has done it this time. Everybody has tumbled in. Washington +is drained of its foreign diplomats, the heavy part of the cabinet is +moved over to represent the President, who sent a gracious letter, the +select from Boston, the most ancient from Philadelphia, and I know that +Chicago comes in a special train. Oh, it's the thing. I assure you +there was a scramble for invitations in the city. Lots of visiting +nobility--Count de l'Auney, I know, and that little snob, Lord +Montague.” + +“Who is he?” + +“Lord Crewe Monmouth Fitzwilliam, the Marquis of Montague, eldest son of +the Duke of Tewkesbury. He's a daisy. + +“They say he is over here looking for capital to carry on his peer +business when he comes into it. Don't know who put up the money for the +trip. These foreigners keep a sharp eye on our market, I can tell you. +They say she is a nice little girl, rather a blue-stocking, face rather +intelligent than pretty, but Montague won't care for that--excuse the +old joke, but it is the figure Monte is after. He hasn't any manners, +but he's not a bad sort of a fellow, generally good-natured, immensely +pleased with New York, and an enthusiastic connoisseur in club drinks.” + +At the proper hour--the hour, it came into, his mind, when the dear ones +at Rivervale had been long in sleep, lulled by the musical flow of +the Deerfield--Philip made his way to the reception room, where there +actually was some press of a crowd, in lines, to approach the attraction +of the evening, and as he waited his turn he had leisure to observe the +brilliant scene. There was scarcely a person in the room he knew. One or +two ladies gave him a preoccupied nod, a plain little woman whom he +had talked with about books at a recent dinner smiled upon him +encouragingly. But what specially impressed him at the moment was the +seriousness of the function, the intentness upon the presentation, and +the look of worry on the faces of the women in arranging trains and +avoiding catastrophes. + +As he approached he fancied that Mr. Mavick looked weary and bored, and +that a shade of abstraction occasionally came over his face as if it +were difficult to keep his thoughts on the changing line. + +But his face lighted up a little when he took Philip's hand and +exchanged with him the commonplaces of the evening. But before this he +had to wait a moment, for he was preceded by an important personage. A +dapper little figure, trim, neat, at the moment drew himself up before +Mrs. Mavick, brought his heels together with a click, and made a low +bow. Doubtless this was the French count. Mrs. Mavick was radiant. +Philip had never seen her in such spirits or so fascinating in manner. + +“It is a great honor, count.” + +“It ees to me,” said the count, with a marked accent; “I assure you +it is like Paris in ze time of ze monarchy. Ah, ze Great Republic, +madame--so it was in France in ze ancien regime. Ah, mademoiselle! +Permit me,” and he raised her hand to his lips; “I salute--is it not” + (turning to Mrs. Mavick)--“ze princess of ze house?” + +The next man who shook hands with the host, and then stood in an easy +attitude before the hostess, attracted Philip's attention strongly, for +he fancied from the deference shown him it must be the lord of whom he +had heard. He was a short, little man, with heavy limbs and a clumsy +figure, reddish hair, very thin on the crown, small eyes that were not +improved in expression by white eyebrows, a red face, smooth shaven and +freckled. It might have been the face of a hostler or a billiard-marker. + +“I am delighted, my lord, that you could make room in your engagements +to come.” + +“Ah, Mrs. Mavick, I wouldn't have missed it,” said my lord, with easy +assurance; “I'd have thrown over anything to have come. And, do you +know” (looking about him coolly), “it's quite English, 'pon my honor, +quite English--St. James and that sort of thing.” + +“You flatter me, my lord,” replied the lady of the house, with a winning +smile. + +“No, I do assure you, it's bang-up. Ah, Miss Mavick, delighted, +delighted. Most charming. Lucky for me, wasn't it? I'm just in time.” + +“You've only recently come over, Lord Montague?” asked Evelyn. + +“Been here before--Rockies, shooting, all that. Just arrived +now--beastly trip, beastly.” + +“And so you were glad to land?” + +“Glad to land anywhere. But New York suits me down to the ground. It +goes, as you say over here. You know Paris?” + +“We have been in Paris. You prefer it?” + +“For some thing. Paris as it was in the Empire. For sport, no. For +horses, no. And” (looking boldly into her face) “when you speak of +American women, Paris ain't in it, as you say over here.” + +And the noble lord, instead of passing on, wheeled about and took a +position near Evelyn, so that he could drop his valuable observations +into her ear as occasion offered. + +To Philip Mrs. Mavick was civil, but she did not beam upon him, and +she did not detain him longer than to say, “Glad to see you.” But +Evelyn--could Philip be deceived?--she gave him her hand cordially and +looked into his eyes trustfully, as she had the habit of doing in the +country, and as if it were a momentary relief to her to encounter in all +this parade a friend. + +“I need not say that I am glad you could come. And oh” (there was time +only for a word), “I saw the announcement. Later, if you can, you will +tell me more about it.” + +Lord Montague stared at him as if to say, “Who the deuce are you?” and +as Philip met his gaze he thought, “No, he hasn't the manner of a stable +boy; no one but a born nobleman could be so confident with women and so +supercilious to men.” + +But my lord, was little in his thought. It was the face of Evelyn that +he saw, and the dainty little figure; the warmth of the little hand +still thrilled him. So simple, and only a bunch of violets in her +corsage for all ornament! The clear, dark complexion, the sweet mouth, +the wonderful eyes! What could Jenks mean by intimating that she was +plain? + +Philip drifted along with the crowd. He was very much alone. And +he enjoyed his solitude. A word and a smile now and then from an +acquaintance did not tempt him to come out of his seclusion. The gay +scene pleased him. He looked for a moment into the ballroom. At another +time he would have tried his fortune in the whirl. But now he looked on +as at a spectacle from which he was detached. He had had his moment and +he waited for another. The voluptuous music, the fascinating toilets, +the beautiful faces, the graceful forms that were woven together in this +shifting kaleidoscope, were, indeed, a part of his beautiful dream. +But how unreal they all were! There was no doubt that Evelyn's eyes had +kindled for him as for no one else whom she had greeted. She singled +him out in all this crush, her look, the cordial pressure of her hand, +conveyed the feeling of comradeship and understanding. This was enough +to fill his thought with foolish anticipations. Is there any being quite +so happy, quite so stupid, as a lover? A lover, who hopes everything and +fears everything, who goes in an instant from the heights of bliss to +the depths of despair. + +When the “reception” was over and the company was breaking up into +groups and moving about, Philip again sought Evelyn. But she was the +centre of a somewhat noisy group, and it was not easy to join it. + +Yet it was something that he could feast his eyes on her and was +rewarded by a look now and then that told him she was conscious of his +presence. Encouraged by this, he was making his way to her, when there +was a movement towards the supper-room, and Mrs. Mavick had taken the +arm of the Count de l'Auney, and the little lord was jauntily leading +away Evelyn. Philip had a pang of disgust and jealousy. Evelyn was +actually chatting with him and seemed amused. Lord Montague was +evidently laying himself out to please and exerting all the powers of +his subtle humor and exploiting his newly acquired slang. That Philip +could hear as they moved past him. “The brute!” Philip said to himself, +with the injustice which always clouds the estimate of a lover of a +rival whose accomplishments differ from his own. + +In the supper-room, however, in the confusion and crowding of it, Philip +at length found his opportunity to get to the side of Evelyn, whose +smile showed him that he was welcome. It was in that fortunate +interval when Lord Montague was showing that devotion to women was not +incompatible with careful attention to terrapin and champagne. Philip +was at once inspired to say: + +“How lovely it is! Aren't you tired?” + +“Not at all. Everybody is very kind, and some are very amusing. I am +learning a great deal,” and there was a quizzical look in her eyes, +“about the world.” + +“Well,” said Philip, “t's all here.” + +“I suppose so. But do you know,” and there was quite an ingenuous blush +in her cheeks as she said it, “it isn't half so nice, Mr. Burnett, as a +picnic in Zoar.” + +“So you remember that?” Philip had not command of himself enough not to +attempt the sentimental. + +“You must think I have a weak memory,” she replied, with a laugh. “And +the story? When shall we have it?” + +“Soon, I hope. And, Miss Mavick, I owe so much of it to you that I hope +you will let me send you the very first copy from the press.” + +“Will you? And do you Of course I shall be pleased and” (making him a +little curtsy) “honored, as one ought to say in this company.” + +Lord Montague was evidently getting uneasy, for his attention was +distracted from the occupation of feeding. + +“No, don't go Lord Montague, an old friend, Mr. Burnett.” + +“Much pleased,” said his lordship, looking round rather inquiringly +at the intruder. “I can't say much for the champagne--ah, not bad, you +know--but I always said that your terrapin isn't half so nasty as it +looks.” And his lordship laughed most good-humoredly, as if he were +paying the American nation a deserved compliment. + +“Yes,” said Philip, “we have to depend upon France for the champagne, +but the terrapin is native.” + +“Quite so, and devilish good! That ain't bad, 'depend upon France for +the champagne!' There is nothing like your American humor, Miss Mavick.” + +“It needs an Englishman to appreciate it,” replied Evelyn, with a +twinkle in her eyes which was lost upon her guest. + +In the midst of these courtesies Philip bowed himself away. The party +was over for him, though he wandered about for a while, was attracted +again by the music to the ballroom, and did find there a dinner +acquaintance with whom he took a turn. The lady must have thought him a +very uninteresting or a very absent-minded companion. + +As for Lord Montague, after he had what he called a “go” in the +dancing-room, he found his way back to the buffet in the supper-room, +and the historian says that he greatly enjoyed himself, and was very +amusing, and that he cultivated the friendship of an obliging waiter +early in the morning, who conducted his lordship to his cab. + + + + +XVII + +The morning after The Puritan Nun was out, as Philip sat at his office +desk, conscious that the eyes of the world were on him, Mr. Mavick +entered, bowed to him absent-mindedly, and was shown into Mr. Hunt's +room. + +Philip had dreaded to come to the office that morning and encounter the +inquisition and perhaps the compliments of his fellow-clerks. He had +seen his name in staring capitals in the book-seller's window as he came +down, and he felt that it was shamefully exposed to the public gaze, and +that everybody had seen it. The clerks, however, gave no sign that the +event had disturbed them. He had encountered many people he knew on the +street, but there had been no recognition of his leap into notoriety. +Not a fellow in the club, where he had stopped a moment, had treated him +with any increased interest or deference. In the office only one person +seemed aware of his extraordinary good fortune. Mr. Tweedle had come +to the desk and offered his hand in his usual conciliatory and unctuous +manner. + +“I see by the paper, Mr. Burnett, that we are an author. Let me +congratulate you. Mrs. Tweedle told me not to come home without bringing +your story. Who publishes it?” + +“I shall be much honored,” said Philip, blushing, “if Mrs. Tweedle will +accept a copy from me.” + +“I didn't mean that, Mr. Burnett; but, of course, gift of the +author--Mrs. Tweedle will be very much pleased.” + +In half an hour Mr. Mavick came out, passed him without recognition, and +hurried from the office, and Philip was summoned to Mr. Hunt's room. + +“I want you to go to Washington immediately, Mr. Burnett. Return by the +night train. You can do without your grip? Take these papers to Buckston +Higgins--you see the address--who represents the British Argentine +syndicate. Wait till he reads them and get his reply. Here is the money +for the trip. Oh, after Mr. Higgins writes his answer, ask him if you +can telegraph me 'yes' or 'no.' Good-morning.” + +While Philip was speeding to Washington, an important conference was +taking place in Murad Ault's office. He was seated at his desk, and +before him lay two despatches, one from Chicago and a cable from London. +Opposite him, leaning forward in his chair, was a lean, hatchet-faced +man, with keen eyes and aquiline nose, who watched his old curbstone +confidant like a cat. + +“I tell you, Wheatstone,” said Mr. Ault, with an unmoved face, bringing +his fist down on the table, “now is the time to sell these three +stocks.” + +“Why,” said Mr. Wheatstone, with a look of wonder, “they are about the +strongest on the list. Mavick controls them.” + +“Does he?” said Ault. “Then he can take care of them.” + +“Have you any news, Mr. Ault?” + +“Nothing to speak of,” replied Ault, grimly. “It just looks so to me. +All you've got to do is to sell. Make a break this afternoon, about two +or three points off.” + +“They are too strong,” protested Mr. Wheatstone. + +“That is just the reason. Everybody will think something must be the +matter, or nobody would be fool enough to sell. You keep your eye on the +Spectrum this afternoon and tomorrow morning. About Organization and one +or two other matters.” + +“Ah, they do say that Mavick is in Argentine up to his neck,” said the +broker, beginning to be enlightened. + +“Is he? Then you think he would rather sell than buy?” + +Mr. Wheatstone laughed and looked admiringly at his leader. “He may have +to.” + +Mr. Ault took up the cable cipher and read it to himself again. If +Mr. Hunt had known its contents he need not have waited for Philip to +telegraph “no” from Washington. + +“It's all right, Wheatstone. It's the biggest thing you ever struck. +Pitch 'em overboard in the morning. The Street is shaky about Argentine. +There'll be h---to pay before half past twelve. I guess you can safely +go ten points. Lower yet, if Mavick's brokers begin to unload. I guess +he will have to unless he can borrow. Rumor is a big thing, especially +in a panic, eh? Keep your eye peeled. And, oh, won't you ask Babcock to +step round here?” + +Mr. Babcock came round, and had his instructions when to buy. He had the +reputation of being a reckless broker, and not a safe man to follow. + +The panic next day, both in London and New York, was long remembered. +In the unreasoning scare the best stocks were sacrificed. Small country +“investors” lost their stakes. Some operators were ruined. Many men were +poorer at the end of the scrimmage, and a few were richer. Murad Ault +was one of the latter. Mavick pulled through, though at an enormous +cost, and with some diminution of the notion of his solidity. The wise +ones suspected that his resources had been overestimated, or that they +were not so well at his command as had been supposed. + +When he went home that night he looked five years older, and was too +worn and jaded to be civil to his family. The dinner passed mostly in +silence. Carmen saw that something serious had happened. Lord Montague +had called. + +“Eh, what did he want?” said Mavick, surlily. + +Carmen looked up surprised. “What does anybody after a reception call +for?” + +“The Lord only knows.” + +“He is the funniest little man,” Evelyn ventured to say. + +“That is no way, child, to speak of the son of a duke,” said Mavick, +relaxing a little. + +Carmen did not like the tone in which this was said, but she prudently +kept silent. And presently Evelyn continued: + +“He asked for you, papa, and said he wanted to pay his respects.” + +“I am glad he wants to pay anything,” was the ungracious answer. Still +Evelyn was not to be put down. + +“It was such a bright day in the Park. What were you doing all day, +papa?” + +“Why, my dear, I was engaged in Research; you will be pleased to know. +Looking after those ten millions.” + +When the dinner was over, Carmen followed Mr. Mavick to his study. + +“What is the matter, Tom?” + +“Nothing uncommon. It's a beastly hole down there. The Board used to +be made up of gentlemen. Now there are such fellows as Ault, a +black-hearted scoundrel.” + +“But he has no influence. He is nothing socially,” said Carmen. + +“Neither is a wolf or a cyclone. But I don't care to talk about him. +Don't you see, I don't want to be bothered?” + +While these great events were taking place Philip was enjoying all the +tremors and delights of expectation which attend callow authorship. +He did not expect much, he said to himself, but deep down in his heart +there was that sweet hope, which fortunately always attends young +writers, that his would be an exceptional experience in the shoal of +candidates for fame, and he was secretly preparing himself not to be +surprised if he should “awake one morning and find himself famous.” + +The first response was from Celia. She wrote warm-heartedly. She wrote +at length, analyzing the characters, recalling the striking scenes, +and praising without stint the conception and the working out of +the character of the heroine. She pointed out the little faults of +construction and of language, and then minimized them in comparison with +the noble motive and the unity and beauty of the whole. She told Philip +that she was proud of him, and then insisted that, when his biography, +life, and letters was published, it would appear, she hoped, that his +dear friend had just a little to do with inspiring him. It was exactly +the sort of letter an author likes to receive, critical, perfectly +impartial, and with entire understanding of his purpose. All the author +wants is to be understood. + +The letter from Alice was quite of another sort, a little shy in +speaking of the story, but full of affection. “Perhaps, dear Phil,” she +wrote, “I ought not to tell you how much I like it, how it quite makes +me blush in its revelation of the secrets of a New England girl's heart. +I read it through fast, and then I read it again slowly. It seemed +better even the second time. I do think, Phil, it is a dear little book. +Patience says she hopes it will not become common; it is too fine to be +nosed about by the ordinary. I suppose you had to make it pathetic. Dear +me! that is just the truth of it. Forgive me for writing so freely. +I hope it will not be long before we see you. To think it is done by +little Phil!” + +The most eagerly expected acknowledgment was, however, a disappointment. +Philip knew Mrs. Mavick too well by this time to expect a letter from +her daughter, but there might have been a line. But Mrs. Mavick wrote +herself. Her daughter, she said, had asked her to acknowledge the +receipt of his very charming story. When he had so many friends it was +very thoughtful in him to remember the acquaintances of last summer. She +hoped the book would have the success it deserved. + +This polite note was felt to be a slap in the face, but the effect of +it was softened a little later by a cordial and appreciative letter from +Miss McDonald, telling the author what great delight and satisfaction +they had had in reading it, and thanking him for a prose idyl that +showed in the old-fashioned way that common life was not necessarily +vulgar. + +The critics seemed to Philip very slow in letting the public know of the +birth of the book. Presently, however, the little notices, all very much +alike, began to drop along, longer or shorter paragraphs, commonly in +undiscriminating praise of the beauty of the story, the majority of them +evidently written by reviewers who sat down to a pile of volumes to be +turned off, and who had not more than five or ten minutes to be lost. +Rarely, however, did any one condemn it, and that showed that it was +harmless. Mr. Brad had given it quite a lift in the Spectrum. The notice +was mainly personal--the first work of a brilliant young man at the bar +who was destined to go high in his profession, unless literature should, +fortunately for the public, have stronger attractions for him. That +such a country idyl should be born amid law-books was sufficiently +remarkable. It was an open secret that the scene of the story was the +birthplace of the author--a lovely village that was brought into notice +a summer ago as the chosen residence of Thomas Mavick and his family. + +Eagerly looked for at first, the newspaper notices soon palled upon +Philip, the uniform tone of good-natured praise, unanimous in the +extravagance of unmeaning adjectives. Now and then he welcomed one that +was ill-natured and cruelly censorious. That was a relief. And yet there +were some reviews of a different sort, half a dozen in all, and half +of them from Western journals, which took the book seriously, saw +its pathos, its artistic merit, its failure of construction through +inexperience. A few commended it warmly to readers who loved ideal +purity and could recognize the noble in common life. And some, +whom Philip regarded as authorities, welcomed a writer who avoided +sensationalism, and predicted for him an honorable career in letters, +if he did not become self-conscious and remained true to his ideals. The +book clearly had not made a hit, the publishers had sold one edition and +ordered half another, and no longer regarded the author as a risk. But, +better than this, the book had attracted the attention of many lovers of +literature. Philip was surprised day after day by meeting people who had +read it. His name began to be known in a small circle who are interested +in the business, and it was not long before he had offers from editors, +who were always on the lookout for new writers of promise, to send +something for their magazines. And, perhaps more flattering than all, he +began to have society invitations to dine, and professional invitations +to those little breakfasts that publishers give to old writers and +to young whose names are beginning to be spoken of. All this was very +exhilarating and encouraging. And yet Philip was not allowed to be +unduly elated by the attention of his fellow-craftsmen, for he soon +found that a man's consequence in this circle, as well as with the great +public, depended largely upon the amount of the sale of his book. How +else should it be rated, when a very popular author, by whom Philip sat +one day at luncheon, confessed that he never read books? + +“So,” said Mr. Sharp, one morning, “I see you have gone into literature, +Mr. Burnett.” + +“Not very deep,” replied Philip with a smile, as he rose from his desk. + +“Going to drop law, eh?” + +“I haven't had occasion to drop much of anything yet,” said Philip, +still smiling. + +“Oh well, two masters, you know,” and Mr. Sharp passed on to his room. + +It was not, however, Mr. Sharp's opinion that Philip was concerned +about. The polite note from Mrs. Mavick stuck in his mind. It was a +civil way of telling him that all summer debts were now paid, and that +his relations with the house of Mavick were at an end. This conclusion +was forced upon him when he left his card, a few days after the +reception, and had the ill luck not to find the ladies at home. The +situation had no element of tragedy in it, but Philip was powerless. +He could not storm the house. He had no visible grievance. There was +nothing to fight. He had simply run against one of the invisible social +barriers that neither offer resistance nor yield. No one had shown him +any discourtesy that society would recognize as a matter of offense. +Nay, more than that, it could have no sympathy with him. It was only the +case of a presumptuous and poor young man who was after a rich girl. The +position itself was ignoble, if it were disclosed. + +Yet fortune, which sometimes likes to play the mischief with the best +social arrangements, did give Philip an unlooked-for chance. At a dinner +given by the lady who had been Philip's only partner at the Mavick +reception, and who had read his story and had written to “her partner” a +most kind little note regretting that she had not known she was dancing +with an author, and saying that she and her husband would be delighted +to make his acquaintance, Philip was surprised by the presence of +the Mavicks in the drawing-room. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Mavick seemed +especially pleased when they encountered him, and in fact his sole +welcome from the family was in the eyes of Evelyn. + +The hostess had supposed that the Mavicks would be pleased to meet the +rising author, and in still further carrying out her benevolent purpose, +and with, no doubt, a sympathy in the feelings of the young, Mrs. Van +Cortlandt had assigned Miss Mavick to Mr. Burnett. It was certainly a +natural arrangement, and yet it called a blank look to Mrs. Mavick's +face, that Philip saw, and put her in a bad humor which needed an effort +for her to conceal it from Mr. Van Cortlandt. The dinner-party was +large, and her ill-temper was not assuaged by the fact that the young +people were seated at a distance from her and on the same side of the +table. + +“How charming your daughter is looking, Mrs. Mavick!” Mr. Van Cortlandt +began, by way of being agreeable. Mrs. Mavick inclined her head. “That +young Burnett seems to be a nice sort of chap; Mrs. Van Cortlandt says +he is very clever.” + +“Yes?” + +“I haven't read his book. They say he is a lawyer.” + +“Lawyer's clerk, I believe,” said Mrs. Mavick, indifferently. + +“Authors are pretty plenty nowadays.” + +“That's a fact. Everybody writes. I don't see how all the poor devils +live.” Mr. Van Cortlandt had now caught the proper tone, and the +conversation drifted away from personalities. + +It was a very brilliant dinner, but Philip could not have given much +account of it. He made an effort to be civil to his left-hand neighbor, +and he affected an ease in replying to cross-table remarks. He fancied +that he carried himself very well, and so he did for a man unexpectedly +elevated to the seventh heaven, seated for two hours beside the girl +whose near presence filled him with indescribable happiness. Every look, +every tone of her voice thrilled him. How dear she was! how adorable she +was! How radiantly happy she seemed to be whenever she turned her face +towards him to ask a question or to make a reply! + +At moments his passion seemed so overmastering that he could hardly +restrain himself from whispering, “Evelyn, I love you.” In a hundred +ways he was telling her so. And she must understand. She must know that +this was not an affair of the moment, but that there was condensed in it +all the constant devotion of months and months. + +A woman, even any girl with the least social experience, would have +seen this. Was Evelyn's sympathetic attention, her evident enjoyment in +talking with him, any evidence of a personal interest, or only a young +girl's enjoyment of her new position in the world? That she liked him +he was sure. Did she, was she beginning in any degree to return +his passion? He could not tell, for guilelessness in a woman is as +impenetrable as coquetry. + +Of what did they talk? A stenographer would have made a meagre report +of it, for the most significant part of this conversation of two fresh, +honest natures was not in words. One thing, however, Philip could bring +away with him that was not a mere haze of delicious impressions. She had +been longing, she said, to talk to him about his story. She told him how +eagerly she had read it, and in talking about its meaning she revealed +to him her inner thought more completely than she could have done in any +other way, her sympathy with his mind, her interest in his work. + +“Have you begun another?” she asked, at last. + +“No, not on paper.” + +“But you must. It must be such a world to you. I can't imagine anything +so fine as that. There is so much about life to be said. To make people +see it as it is; yes, and as it ought to be. Will you?” + +“You forget that I am a lawyer.” + +“And you prefer to be that, a lawyer, rather than an author?” + +“It is not exactly what I prefer, Miss Mavick.” + +“Why not? Does anybody do anything well if his heart is not in it?” + +“But circumstances sometimes compel a man.” + +“I like better for men to compel circumstances,” the girl exclaimed, +with that disposition to look at things in the abstract that Philip so +well remembered. + +“Perhaps I do not make myself understood. One must have a career.” + +“A career?” And Evelyn looked puzzled for a moment. “You mean for +himself, for his own self?” There is a lawyer who comes to see papa. +I've been in the room sometimes, when they don't mind. Such talk about +schemes, and how to do this and that, and twisting about. And not a word +about anything any of the time. And one day when he was waiting for papa +I talked with him. You would have been surprised. + +“I told papa that I could not find anything to interest him. Papa +laughed and said it was my fault, he was one of the sharpest lawyers in +the city. Would you rather be that than to write?” + +“Oh, all lawyers are not like that. And, don't you know, literature +doesn't pay.” + +“Yes, I have heard that.” And then she thought a minute and with a +quizzical look continued: “That is such a queer word, 'pay.' McDonald +says that it pays to be good. Do you think, Mr. Burnett, that law would +pay you?” + +Evidently the girl had a standard of judging people that was not much in +use. + +Before they rose from the table, Philip asked, speaking low, “Miss +Mavick, won't you give me a violet from your bunch in memory of this +evening?” + +Evelyn hesitated an instant, and then, without looking up, disengaged +three, and shyly laid them at her left hand. “I like the number three +better.” + +Philip covered the flowers with his hand, and said, “I will keep them +always.” + +“That is a long time,” Evelyn answered, but still without looking up. +But when they rose the color mounted to her cheeks, and Philip thought +that the glorious eyes turned upon him were full of trust. + +“It is all your doing,” said Carmen, snappishly, when Mavick joined her +in the drawing-room. + +“What is?” + +“You insisted upon having him at the reception.” + +“Burnett? Oh, stuff, he isn't a fool!” + +There was not much said as the three drove home. Evelyn, flushed with +pleasure and absorbed in her own thoughts, saw that something had gone +wrong with her mother and kept silent. Mr. Mavick at length broke the +silence with: + +“Did you have a good time, child?” + +“Oh, yes,” replied Evelyn, cheerfully, “and Mrs. Van Cortlandt was very +sweet to me. Don't you think she is very hospitable, mamma?” + +“Tries to be,” Mrs. Mavick replied, in no cordial tone. “Good-natured +and eccentric. She picks up the queerest lot of people. You can never +know whom you will not meet at her house. Just now she goes in for being +literary.” + +Evelyn was not so reticent with McDonald. While she was undressing she +disclosed that she had had a beautiful evening, that she was taken out +by Mr. Burnett, and talked about his story. + +“And, do you know, I think I almost persuaded him to write another.” + +“It's an awful responsibility,” dryly said the shrewd Scotch woman, +“advising young men what to do.” + + + + +XVIII + +Upon the recollection of this dinner Philip maintained his hope +and courage for a long time. The day after it, New York seemed more +brilliant to him than it had ever been. In the afternoon he rode down +to the Battery. It was a mild winter day, with a haze in the atmosphere +that softened all outlines and gave an enchanting appearance to the +harbor shores. The water was silvery, and he watched a long time the +craft plying on it--the businesslike ferry-boats, the spiteful tugs, the +great ocean steamers, boldly pushing out upon the Atlantic through the +Narrows or cautiously drawing in as if weary with the buffeting of the +waves. The scene kindled in him a vigorous sense of life, of prosperity, +of longing for the activity of the great world. + +Clearly he must do something and not be moping in indecision. +Uncertainty is harder to bear than disaster itself. When he thought of +Evelyn, and he always thought of her, it seemed cowardly to hesitate. +Celia, after her first outburst of enthusiasm, had returned to her +cautious advice. The law was much surer. Literature was a mere chance. +Why not be content with his little success and buckle down to his +profession? Perhaps by-and-by he would have leisure to indulge his +inclination. The advice seemed sound. + +But there was Evelyn, with her innocent question. + +“Would the law pay you?” Evelyn? Would he be more likely to win her by +obeying the advice of Celia, or by trusting to Evelyn's inexperienced +discernment? Indeed, what chance was there to win her at all? What had +he to offer her? + +His spirits invariably fell when he thought of submitting his +pretensions to the great man of Wall Street or to his worldly wife. +Already it was the gossip of the clubs that Lord Montague was a frequent +visitor at the Mavicks', that he was often seen in their box at the +opera, and that Mrs. Mavick had said to Bob Shafter that it was a +scandal to talk of Lord Montague as a fortune-hunter. He was a most +kind-hearted, domestic man. She should not join in the newspaper talk +about him. He belonged to an old English family, and she should be civil +to him. Generally she did not fancy Englishmen, and this one she liked +neither better nor worse because he had a title. And when you came to +that, why shouldn't any American girl marry her equal? + +As to Montague, he was her friend, and she knew that he had not +the least intention at present of marrying anybody. And then the +uncharitable gossip went on, that there was the Count de l'Auney, and +that Mrs. Mavick was playing the one off against the other. + +As the days went on and spring began to appear in the light, fleeting +clouds in the blue sky and in the greening foliage in the city squares, +Philip became more and more restless. The situation was intolerable. +Evelyn he could never see. Perhaps she wondered that he made no effort +to see her. Perhaps she never thought of him at all, and simply, like an +obedient child, accepted her mother's leading, and was getting to like +that society life which was recorded in the daily journals. What did it +matter to him whether he stuck to the law or launched himself into the +Bohemia of literature, so long as doubt about Evelyn haunted him day and +night? If she was indifferent to him, he would know the worst, and go +about his business like a man. Who were the Mavicks, anyway? + +Alice had written him once that Evelyn was a dear girl, no one could +help loving her; but she did not like the blood of father and mother. +“And remember, Phil--you must let me say this--there is not a drop of +mean blood in your ancestors.” + +Philip smiled at this. He was not in love with Mrs. Mavick nor with her +husband. They were for him simply guardians of a treasure he very much +coveted, and yet they were to a certain extent ennobled in his mind as +the authors of the being he worshiped. If it should be true that his +love for her was returned, it would not be possible even for them to +insist upon a course that would make their daughter unhappy for life. +They might reject him--no doubt he was a wholly unequal match for the +heiress--but could they, to the very end, be cruel to her? + +Thus the ingenuous young man argued with himself, until it seemed plain +to him that if Evelyn loved him, and the conviction grew that she did, +all obstacles must give way to this overmastering passion of his life. +If he were living in a fool's paradise he would know it, and he ventured +to put his fortune to the test of experiment. The only manly course was +to gain the consent of the parents to ask their daughter to marry him; +if not that, then to be permitted to see her. He was nobly resolved to +pledge himself to make no proposals to her without their approval. + +This seemed a very easy thing to do until he attempted it. He would +simply happen into Mr. Mavick's office, and, as Mr. Mavick frequently +talked familiarly with him, he would contrive to lead the conversation +to Evelyn, and make his confession. He mapped out the whole +conversation, and even to the manner in which he would represent his own +prospects and ambitions and his hopes of happiness. Of course Mr. Mavick +would evade, and say that it would be a long time before they should +think of disposing of their daughter's hand, and that--well, he must +see himself that he was in no position to support a wife accustomed to +luxury; in short, that one could not create situations in real life as +he could in novels, that personally he could give him no encouragement, +but that he would consult his wife. + +This dream got no further than a private rehearsal. When he called at +Mr. Mavick's office he learned that Mr. Mavick had gone to the Pacific +coast, and that he would probably be absent several weeks. But Philip +could not wait. He resolved to end his torture by a bold stroke. He +wrote to Mrs. Mavick, saying that he had called at Mr. Mavick's office, +and, not finding him at home, he begged that she would give him an +interview concerning a matter of the deepest personal interest to +himself. + +Mrs. Mavick understood in an instant what this meant. She had feared it. +Her first impulse was to write him a curt note of a character that would +end at once all intercourse. On second thought she determined to see +him, to discover how far the affair had gone, and to have it out with +him once for all. She accordingly wrote that she would have a few +minutes at half past five the next day. + +As Philip went up the steps of the Mavick house at the appointed hour, +he met coming out of the door--and it seemed a bad omen--Lord Montague, +who seemed in high spirits, stared at Philip without recognition, +whistled for his cab, and drove away. + +Mrs. Mavick received him politely, and, without offering her hand, asked +him to be seated. Philip was horribly embarrassed. The woman was so +cool, so civil, so perfectly indifferent. He stammered out something +about the weather and the coming spring, and made an allusion to the +dinner at Mrs. Van Cortlandt's. Mrs. Mavick was not in the mood to help +him with any general conversation, and presently said, looking at her +watch: + +“You wrote me that you wanted to consult me. Is there anything I can do +for you?” + +“It was a personal matter,” said Philip, getting control of himself. + +“So you wrote. Mr. Mavick is away, and if it is in regard to anything in +your office, any promotion, you know, I don't understand anything about +business.” And Mrs. Mavick smiled graciously. + +“No, it is not about the office. I should not think of troubling my +friends in that way. It is just that--” + +“Oh, I see,” Mrs. Mavick interrupted, with good-humor, “it's about +the novel. I hear that it has sold very well. And you are not certain +whether its success will warrant your giving up your clerkship. Now as +for me,” and she leaned back in her chair, with the air of weighing the +chances in her mind, “it doesn't seem to me that a writer--” + +“No, it is not that,” said Philip, leaning forward and looking her full +in the face with all the courage he could summon, “it is your daughter.” + +“What!” cried Mrs. Mavick, in a tone of incredulous surprise. + +“I was afraid you would think me very presumptuous.” + +“Presumptuous! Why, she is a child. Do you know what you are talking +about?” + +“My mother married at eighteen,” said Philip, gently. + +“That is an interesting piece of information, but I don't see its +bearing. Will you tell me, Mr. Burnett, what nonsense you have got into +your head?” + +“I want,” and Philip spoke very gently--“I want, Mrs. Mavick, permission +to see your daughter.” + +“Ah! I thought in Rivervale, Mr. Burnett, that you were a gentleman. You +presume upon my invitation to this house, in an underhand way, to--What +right have you?” + +Mrs. Mavick was so beside herself that she could hardly speak. The +lines in her face deepened into wrinkles and scowls. There was something +malevolent and mean in it. Philip was astonished at the transformation. +And she looked old and ugly in her passion. + +“You!” she repeated. + +“It is only this, Mrs. Mavick,” and Philip spoke calmly, though his +blood was boiling at her insulting manner--“it is only this--I love your +daughter.” + +“And you have told her this?” + +“No, never, never a word.” + +“Does she know anything of this absurd, this silly attempt?” + +“I am afraid not.” + +“Ah! Then you have spared yourself one humiliation. My daughter's +affections are not likely to be placed where her parents do not approve. +Her mother is her only confidante. I can tell you, Mr. Burnett, and when +you are over this delusion you will thank me for being so plain with +you, my daughter would laugh at the idea of such a proposal. But I will +not have her annoyed by impecunious aspirants.” + +“Madam!” cried Philip, rising, with a flushed face, and then he +remembered that he was talking to Evelyn's mother, and uttered no other +word. + +“This is ended.” And then, with a slight change of manner, she went on: +“You must see how impossible it is. You are a man of honor. + +“I should like to think well of you. I shall trust to your honor that +you will never try, by letter or otherwise, to hold any communication +with her.” + +“I shall obey you,” said Philip, quite stiffly, “because you are her +mother. But I love her, and I shall always love her.” + +Mrs. Mavick did not condescend to any reply to this, but she made a cold +bow of dismissal and turned away from him. He left the house and walked +away, scarcely knowing in which direction he went, anger for a time +being uppermost in his mind, chagrin and defeat following, and with it +the confused feeling of a man who has passed through a cyclone and been +landed somewhere amid the scattered remnants of his possessions. + +As he strode away he was intensely humiliated. He had been treated +like an inferior. He had voluntarily put himself in a position to be +insulted. Contempt had been poured upon him, his feelings had been +outraged, and there was no way in which he could show his resentment. +Presently, as his anger subsided, he began to look at the matter more +sanely. What had happened? He had made an honorable proposal. But what +right had he to expect that it would be favorably considered? He knew +all along that it was most unlikely that Mrs. Mavick would entertain +for a moment idea of such a match. He knew what would be the unanimous +opinion of society about it. In the case of any other young man aspiring +to the hand of a rich girl, he knew very well what he should have +thought. + +Well, he had done nothing dishonorable. And as he reviewed the bitter +interview he began to console himself with the thought that he had not +lost his temper, that he had said nothing to be regretted, nothing that +he should not have said to the mother of the girl he loved. There was an +inner comfort in this, even if his life were ruined. + +Mrs. Mavick, on the contrary, had not so good reason to be satisfied +with herself. It was a principle of her well-ordered life never to get +into a passion, never to let herself go, never to reveal herself by +intemperate speech, never to any one, except occasionally to her husband +when his cold sarcasm became intolerable. She felt, as soon as the door +closed on Philip, that she had made a blunder, and yet in her irritation +she committed a worse one. She went at once to Evelyn's room, resolved +to make it perfectly sure that the Philip episode was ended. She had had +suspicions about her daughter ever since the Van Cortlandt dinner. +She would find out if they were justified, and she would act decidedly +before any further mischief was done. Evelyn was alone, and her +mother kissed her fondly several times and then threw herself into an +easy-chair and declared she was tired. + +“My dear, I have had such an unpleasant interview.” + +“I am sorry,” said Evelyn, seating herself on the arm of the chair and +putting her arm round her mother's neck. “With whom, mamma?” + +“Oh, with that Mr. Burnett.” Mrs. Mavick felt a nervous start in the arm +that caressed her. + +“Here?” + +“Yes, he came to see your father, I fancy, about some business. I think +he is not getting on very well.” + +“Why, his book--” + +“I know, but that amounts to nothing. There is not much chance for a +lawyer's clerk who gets bitten with the idea that he can write.” + +“If he was in trouble, mamma,” said Evelyn, softly, “then you were good +to him.” + +“I tried to be,” Mrs. Mavick half sighed, “but you can't do anything +with such people” (by 'such people' Mrs. Mavick meant those who have no +money) “when they don't get on. They are never reasonable. And he was +in such an awful bad temper. You cannot show any kindness to such people +without exposing yourself. I think he presumes upon his acquaintance +with your father. It was most disagreeable, and he was so rude” (a +little thrill in the arm again)--“well, not exactly rude, but he was +not a bit nice to me, and I am afraid I showed by my looks that I was +irritated. He was just as disagreeable as he could be. + +“He met Lord Montague on the steps, and he had something spiteful to +say about him. I had to tell him he was presuming a good deal on his +acquaintance, and that I considered his manner insulting. He flung out +of the house very high and mighty.” + +“That was not a bit like him, mamma.” + +“We didn't know him. That is all. Now we do, and I am thankful we do. He +will never come here again.” + +Evelyn was very still for a moment, and then she said: “I'm very sorry +for it all. It must be some misunderstanding.” + +“Of course, it is dreadful to be so disappointed in people. But we have +to learn. I don't know anything about his misunderstanding, but I did +not misunderstand what he said. At any rate, after such an exposition we +can have no further intercourse with him. You will not care to see any +one who treated your mother in this way? If you love me, you cannot be +friendly with him. I know you would not like to be.” + +Evelyn did not reply for a moment. Her silence revealed the fact to the +shrewd woman that she had not intervened a day too soon. + +“You promise me, dear, that you will put the whole thing out of your +mind?” and she drew her daughter closer to her and kissed her. + +And then Evelyn said slowly: “I shall not have any friends whom you do +not approve, but, mamma, I cannot be unjust in my mind.” + +And Mrs. Mavick had the good sense not to press the question further. +She still regarded Evelyn as a child. Her naivete, her simplicity, her +ignorance of social conventions and of the worldly wisdom which to Mrs. +Mavick was the sum of all knowledge misled her mother as to her power of +discernment and her strength of character. Indeed, Mrs. Mavick had only +the slightest conception of that range of thought and feeling in which +the girl habitually lived, and of the training which at the age of +eighteen had given her discipline, and great maturity of judgment as +well. She would be obedient, but she was incapable of duplicity, and +therefore she had said as plainly as possible that whatever the trouble +might be she would not be unjust to Philip. + +The interview with her mother left her in a very distressed state of +mind. It is a horrible disillusion when a girl begins to suspect that +her mother is not sincere, and that her ideals of life are mean. This +knowledge may exist with the deepest affection--indeed, in a noble mind, +with an inward tenderness and an almost divine pity. How many times +have we seen a daughter loyal to a frivolous, worldly-minded, insincere +mother, shielding her and exhibiting to the censorious world the utmost +love and trust! + +Evelyn was far from suspecting the extent of her mother's duplicity, +but her heart told her that an attempt had been made to mislead her, and +that there must be some explanation of Philip's conduct that would be +consistent with her knowledge of his character. And, as she endeavored +to pierce this mystery, it dawned upon her that there had been a method +in throwing her so much into the society of Lord Montague, and that +it was unnatural that such a friend as Philip should be seen so +seldom--only twice since the days in Rivervale. Naturally the very +reverse of suspicious, she had been dreaming on things to come in the +seclusion of her awakening womanhood, without the least notion that the +freedom of her own soul was to be interfered with by any merely worldly +demands. But now things that had occurred, and that her mother had +said, came back to her with a new meaning, and her trustful spirit was +overwhelmed. And there, in the silence of her chamber, began the fierce +struggle between desire and what she called her duty--a duty imposed +from without. + +She began to perceive that she was not free, that she was a part of a +social machine, the power of which she had not at all apprehended, and +that she was powerless in its clutch. She might resist, but peace +was gone. She had heretofore found peace in obedience, but when she +consulted her own heart she knew that she could not find peace in +obedience now. To a girl differently reared, perhaps, subterfuge, or +some manoeuvring justified by the situation, might have been resorted +to. But such a thing never occurred to Evelyn. Everything looked dark +before her, as she more clearly understood her mother's attitude, +and for the first time in years she could do nothing but give way to +emotions. + +“Why, Evelyn, you have been crying!” exclaimed the governess, who came +to seek her. “What is the matter?” + +Evelyn arose and threw herself on her friend's neck for a moment, and +then, brushing away the tears, said, with an attempt to smile, “Oh, +nothing; I got thinking, thinking, thinking, and Don't you ever get +blue, McDonald?” + +“Not often,” said the Scotchwoman, gravely. “But, dear, you have nothing +in the world to make you so.” + +“No, no, nothing;” and then she broke down again, and threw herself upon +McDonald's bosom in a passion of sobbing. “I can't help it. Mamma says +Phil--Mr. Burnett--is never to come to this house again. What have I +done? And he will think--he will think that I hate him.” + +McDonald drew the girl into her lap, and with uncommon gentleness +comforted her with caresses. + +“Dear child,” she said, “crosses must come into our lives; we cannot +help that. Your mother is no doubt doing what she thinks best for your +own happiness. Nothing can really hurt us for long, you know that well, +except what we do to ourselves. I never told you why I came to this +country--I didn't want to sadden you with my troubles--but now I want +you to understand me better. It is a long story.” + +But it was not very long in the telling, for the narrator found that +what seemed to her so long in the suffering could be conveyed to another +in only a few words. And the story was not in any of its features new, +except to the auditor. There had been a long attachment, passionate love +and perfect trust, long engagement, marriage postponed because both were +poor, and the lover struggling into his profession, and then, it seemed +sudden and unaccountable, his marriage with some one else. “It was not +like him,” said the governess in conclusion; “it was his ambition to get +on that blinded him.” + +“And he, was he happy?” asked Evelyn. + +“I heard that he was not” (and she spoke reluctantly); “I fear not. How +could he be?” And the governess seemed overwhelmed in a flood of tender +and painful memories. “That was over twenty years ago. And I have been +happy, my darling, I have had such a happy life with you. + +“I never dreamed I could have such a blessing. And you, child, will be +happy too; I know it.” + +And the two women, locked in each other's arms, found that consolation +in sympathy which steals away half the grief of the world. Ah! who knows +a woman's heart? + + +For Philip there was in these days no such consolation. It was a +man's way not to seek any, to roll himself up in his trouble like a +hibernating bear. And yet there were times when he had an intolerable +longing for a confidant, for some one to whom he could relieve himself +of part of his burden by talking. To Celia he could say nothing. +Instinct told him that he should not go to her. Of the sympathy of Alice +he was sure, but why inflict his selfish grief on her tender heart? +But he was writing to her often, he was talking to her freely about +his perplexities, about leaving the office and trusting himself to the +pursuit of literature in some way. And, in answer to direct questions, +he told her that he had seen Evelyn only a few times, and, the fact +was, that Mrs. Mavick had cut him dead. He could not give to his +correspondent a very humorous turn to this situation, for Alice +knew--had she not seen them often together, and did she not know the +depths of Philip's passion? And she read between the lines the real +state of the case. Alice was indignant, but she did not think it wise to +make too much of the incident. Of Evelyn she wrote affectionately--she +knew she was a noble and high-minded girl. As to her mother, she +dismissed her with a country estimate. “You know, Phil, that I never +thought she was a lady.” + +But the lover was not to be wholly without comfort. He met by chance one +day on the Avenue Miss McDonald, and her greeting was so cordial that he +knew that he had at least one friend in the house of Mavick. + +It was a warm spring day, a stray day sent in advance, as it were, to +warn the nomads of the city that it was time to move on. The tramps +in Washington Square felt the genial impulse, and, seeking the shaded +benches, began to dream of the open country, the hospitable farmhouses, +the nooning by wayside springs, and the charm of wandering at will +among a tolerant and not too watchful people. Having the same abundant +leisure, the dwellers up-town--also nomads--were casting in their minds +how best to employ it, and the fortunate ones were already gathering +together their flocks and herds and preparing to move on to their camps +at Newport or among the feeding-hills of the New-England coast. + +The foliage of Central Park, already heavy, still preserved the +freshness of its new birth, and invited the stroller on the Avenue to +its protecting shade. At Miss McDonald's suggestion they turned in and +found a secluded seat. + +“I often come here,” she said to Philip; “it is almost as peaceful as +the wilderness itself.” + +To Philip also it seemed peaceful, but the soothing influence he found +in it was that he was sitting with the woman who saw Evelyn hourly, who +had been with her only an hour ago. + +“Yes,” she said, in reply to a question, “everybody is well. We are +going to leave town earlier than usual this summer, as soon as Mr. +Mavick returns. Mrs. Mavick is going to open her Newport house; she says +she has had enough of the country. It is still very amusing to me to see +how you Americans move about with the seasons, just like the barbarians +of Turkestan, half the year in summer camps and half the year in winter +camps.” + +“Perhaps,” said Philip, “it is because the social pasturage gets poor.” + +“Maybe,” replied the governess, continuing the conceit, “only the horde +keeps pretty well together, wherever it is. I know we are to have a very +gay season. Lots of distinguished foreigners and all that.” + +“But,” said Philip, “don't England and the Continent long for the +presence of Americans in the season in the same way?” + +“Not exactly. It is the shop-keepers and hotels that sigh for the +Americans. I don't think that American shop-keepers expect much of +foreigners.” + +“And you are going soon? I suppose Miss Mavick is eager to go also,” + said Philip, trying to speak indifferently. + +Miss McDonald turned towards him with a look of perfect understanding, +and then replied, “No, not eager; she hasn't been in her usual spirits +lately--no, not ill--and probably the change will be good for her. It +is her first season, you know, and that is always exciting to a girl. +Perhaps it is only the spring weather.” + +It was some moments before either of them spoke again, and then Miss +McDonald looked up--“Oh, Mr. Burnett, I have wanted to see you and have +a talk with you about your novel. I could say so little in my note. +We read it first together and then I read it alone, rather to sit in +judgment on it, you know. I liked it better the second time, but I could +see the faults of construction, and I could see, too, why it will be +more popular with a few people than with the general public. You don't +mind my saying--” + +“Go on, the words of a friend.” + +“Yes, I know, are sometimes hardest to bear. Well, it is lovely, ideal, +but it seems to me you are still a little too afraid of human nature. +You are afraid to say things that are common. And the deep things of +life are pretty much all common. No, don't interrupt me. I love the +story just as it is. I am glad you wrote it as you did. It was natural, +in your state of experience, that you should do it. But in your next, +having got rid of what was on top of your mind, so to speak, you will +take a firmer, more confident hold of life. You are not offended?” + +“No, indeed,” cried Philip. “I am very grateful. No doubt you are right. +It seems to me, now that I am detached from it, as if it were only a +sort of prelude to something else.” + +“Well, you must not let my single opinion influence you too much, for I +must in honesty tell you another thing. Evelyn will not have a word of +criticism of it. She says it is like a piece of music, and the impudent +thing declares that she does not expect a Scotchwoman to understand +anything but ballad music.” + +Philip laughed at this, such a laugh as he had not indulged in for many +days. “I hope you don't quarrel about such a little thing.” + +“Not seriously. She says I may pick away at the story--and I like to see +her bristle up--but that she looks at the spirit.” + +“God bless her,” said Philip under his breath. + +Miss McDonald rose, and they walked out into the Avenue again. How +delightful was the genial air, the light, the blue sky of spring! How +the brilliant Avenue, now filling up with afternoon equipages, sparkled +in the sunshine! + +When they parted, Miss McDonald gave him her hand and held his a moment, +looking into his eyes. “Mr. Burnett, authors need some encouragement. +When I left Evelyn she was going to her room with your book in her +hand.” + + + + +XIX + +Why should not Philip trust the future? He was a free man. He had given +no hostages to fortune. Even if he did not succeed, no one else would +be involved in his failure. Why not follow his inclination, the dream of +his boyhood? + +He was at liberty to choose for himself. Everybody in America is; this +is the proclamation of its blessed independence. Are we any better off +for the privilege of following first one inclination and then another, +which is called making a choice? Are they not as well off, and on the +whole as likely to find their right place, who inherit their callings in +life, whose careers are mapped out from the cradle by circumstance and +convention? How much time do we waste in futile experiment? Freedom to +try everything, which is before the young man, is commonly freedom to +excel in nothing. + +There are, of course, exceptions. The blacksmith climbs into a city +pulpit. The popular preacher becomes an excellent insurance agent. The +saloon-keeper develops into the legislator, and wears the broadcloth and +high hat of the politician. The brakeman becomes the railway magnate, +and the college graduate a grocer's clerk, and the messenger-boy, +picking up by chance one day the pen, and finding it run easier than +his legs, becomes a power on a city journal, and advises society how to +conduct itself and the government how to make war and peace. All this +adds to the excitement and interest of life. On the whole, we say +that people get shaken into their right places, and the predetermined +vocation is often a mistake. There is the anecdote of a well-known +clergyman who, being in a company with his father, an aged and +distinguished doctor of divinity, raised his monitory finger and +exclaimed, “Ah, you spoiled a first-rate carpenter when you made a poor +minister of me.” + +Philip thought he was calmly arguing the matter with himself. How often +do we deliberately weigh such a choice as we would that of another +person, testing our inclination by solid reason? Perhaps no one could +have told Philip what he ought to do, but every one who knew him, and +the circumstances, knew what he would do. He was, in fact, already doing +it while he was paltering with his ostensible profession. But he never +would have confessed, probably he would then have been ashamed to +confess, how much his decision to break with the pretense of law was +influenced by the thought of what a certain dark little maiden, whose +image was always in his mind, would wish him to do, and by the very +remarkable fact that she was seen going to her room with his well-read +story in her hand. Perhaps it was under her pillow at night! + +Good-luck seemed to follow his decision--as it often does when a man +makes a questionable choice, as if the devil had taken an interest in +his downward road to prosperity. But Philip really gained a permanent +advantage. The novel had given him a limited reputation and very +little money. Yet it was his stepping-stone, and when he applied to his +publishers and told them of his decision, they gave him some work as a +reader for the house. At first this was fitful and intermittent, but +as he showed both literary discrimination and tact in judging of the +market, his services were more in request, and slowly he acquired +confidential relations with the house. Whatever he knew, his knowledge +of languages and his experience abroad, came into play, and he began to +have more confidence in himself, as he saw that his somewhat desultory +education had, after all, a market value. + +The rather long period of his struggle, which is a common struggle, and +often disheartening, need not be dwelt on here. We can anticipate +by saying that he obtained in the house a permanent and responsible +situation, with an income sufficient for a bachelor without habits of +self-indulgence. It was not the crowning of a noble ambition, it was not +in the least the career he had dreamed of, but it gave him support and +a recognized position, and, above all, did not divert him from such +creative work as he was competent to do. Nay, he found very soon that +the feeling of security, without any sordid worry, gave freedom to his +imagination. There was something stimulating in the atmosphere of books +and manuscripts and in that world of letters which seems so large to +those who live in it. Fortunately, also, having a support, he was not +tempted to debase his talent by sensational ventures. What he wrote for +this or that magazine he wrote to please himself, and, although he saw +no fortune that way, the little he received was an encouragement as well +as an appreciable addition to his income. + +There are two sorts of success in letters as in life generally. The one +is achieved suddenly, by a dash, and it lasts as long as the author can +keep the attention of the spectators upon his scintillating novelties. +When the sparks fade there is darkness. How many such glittering +spectacles this century has witnessed! + +There is another sort of success which does not startlingly or at +once declare itself. Sometimes it comes with little observation. The +reputation is slowly built up, as by a patient process of nature. It +is curious, as Philip wrote once in an essay, to see this unfolding +in Lowell's life. There was no one moment when he launched into great +popularity--nay, in detail, he seemed to himself not to have made the +strike that ambition is always expecting. But lo! the time came when, by +universal public consent, which was in the nature of a surprise to him, +he had a high and permanent place in the world of letters. + +In anticipating Philip's career, however, it must not be understood that +he had attained any wide public recognition. He was simply enrolled in +the great army of readers and was serving his apprenticeship. He was +recognized as a capable man by those who purvey in letters to the +entertainment of the world. Even this little foothold was not easily +gained in a day, as the historian discovered in reading some bundles of +old letters which Philip wrote in this time of his novitiate to Celia +and to his cousin Alice. + +It was against Celia's most strenuous advice that he had trusted himself +to a literary career. “I see, my dear friend,” she wrote, in reply to +his announcement that he was going that day to Mr. Hunt to resign his +position, “that you are not happy, but whatever your disappointment +or disillusion, you will not better yourself by surrendering a regular +occupation. You live too much in the imagination already.” + +Philip fancied, with that fatuity common to his sex, that he had worn an +impenetrable mask in regard to his wild passion for Evelyn, and did not +dream that, all along, Celia had read him like an open book. She judged +Philip quite accurately. It was herself that she did not know, and she +would have repelled as nonsense the suggestion that her own restlessness +and her own changing experiments in occupation were due to the +unsatisfied longings of a woman's heart. + +“You must not think,” the letter went on, “that I want to dictate, but +I have noticed that men--it may be different with women--only succeed +by taking one path and diligently walking in it. And literature is not a +career, it is just a toss up, a lottery, and woe to you if you once draw +a lucky number--you will always be expecting another... You say that I +am a pretty one to give advice, for I am always chopping and changing +myself. Well, from the time you were a little boy, did I ever give you +but one sort of advice? I have been constant in that. And as to myself, +you are unjust. I have always had one distinct object in life, and that +I have pursued. I wanted to find out about life, to have experience, and +then do what I could do best, and what needed most to be done. Why did +I not stick to teaching in that woman's college? Well, I began to have +doubts, I began to experiment on my pupils. You will laugh, but I will +give you a specimen. One day I put a question to my literature class, +and I found out that not one of them knew how to boil potatoes. They +were all getting an education, and hardly one of them knew how much +the happiness of a home depends upon having the potatoes mealy and not +soggy. It was so in everything. How are we going to live when we are all +educated, without knowing how to live? Then I found that the masses here +in New York did not know any better than the classes how to live. Don't +think it is just a matter of cooking. It is knowing how, generally, to +make the most of yourself and of your opportunities, and have a nice +world to live in, a thrifty, self-helpful, disciplined world. Is +education giving us this? And then we think that organization will do +it, organization instead of self-development. We think we can organize +life, as they are trying to organize art. They have organized art as +they have the production of cotton. + +“Did I tell you I was in that? No? I used to draw in school, and after +I had worked in the Settlement here in New York, and while I was working +down on the East Side, it came over me that maybe I had one talent +wrapped in a napkin; and I have been taking lessons in Fifty-seventh +Street with the thousand or two young women who do not know how to boil +potatoes, but are pursuing the higher life of art. I did not tell you +this because I knew you would say that I am just as inconsistent as you +are. But I am not. I have demonstrated the fact that neither I nor one +in a hundred of those charming devotees to art could ever earn a living +by art, or do anything except to add to the mediocrity of the amazing +art product of this free country. + +“And you will ask, what now? I am going on in the same way. I am going +to be a doctor. In college I was very well up in physiology and anatomy, +and I went quite a way in biology. So you see I have a good start. I am +going to attend lectures and go into a hospital, as soon as there is an +opening, and then I mean to practice. One essential for a young doctor +I have in advance. That is patients. I can get all I want on the East +Side, and I have already studied many of them. Law and medicine are what +I call real professions.” + +However Celia might undervalue the calling that Philip had now entered +on, he had about this time evidence of the growing appreciation of +literature by practical business men. He was surprised one day by a +brief note from Murad Ault, asking him to call at his office as soon as +convenient. + +Mr. Ault received him in his private office at exactly the hour +named. Evidently Mr. Ault's affairs were prospering. His establishment +presented every appearance of a high-pressure business perfectly +organized. The outer rooms were full of industrious clerks, messengers +were constantly entering and departing in a feverish rapidity, servants +moved silently about, conducting visitors to this or that waiting-room +and answering questions, excited speculators in groups were +gesticulating and vociferating, and in the anteroom were impatient +clients awaiting their turn. In the inner chamber, however, was perfect +calm. There at his table sat the dark, impenetrable operator, whose time +was exactly apportioned, serene, saturnine, or genial, as the case might +be, listening attentively, speaking deliberately, despatching the affair +in hand without haste or the waste of a moment. + +Mr. Ault arose and shook hands cordially, and then went on, without +delay for any conventional talk. + +“I sent for you, Mr. Burnett, because I wanted your help, and because I +thought I might do you a good turn. You see” (with a grim smile) “I have +not forgotten Rivervale days. My wife has been reading your story. I +don't have much time for such things myself, but her constant talk about +it has given me an idea. I want to suggest to you the scene of a novel, +one that would be bound to be a good seller. + +“I could guarantee a big circulation. I have just become interested in +one of the great transcontinental lines.” He named the most picturesque +of them--one that he, in fact, absolutely controlled. “Well, I want a +story, yes, I guess a good love-story--a romance of reality you might +call it--strung on that line. You take the idea?” + +“Why,” said Philip, half amused at the conceit and yet complimented +by the recognition of his talent, “I don't know anything about +railroads--how they are run, cost of building, prospect of traffic, +engineering difficulties, all that--nothing whatever.” + +“So much the better. It is a literary work I want, not a brag about the +road or a description of its enterprise. You just take the line as your +scene. Let the story run on that. The company, don't you see, must not +in any way be suspected with having anything to do with it, no mention +of its name as a company, no advertisement of the road on a fly-leaf or +cover. Just your own story, pure and simple.” + +“But,” said Philip, more and more astonished at this unlooked-for +expansion of the literary field, “I could not embark on an enterprise of +such magnitude.” + +“Oh,” said Mr. Ault, complacently, “that will be all arranged. Just a +pleasure trip, as far as that goes. You will have a private car, +well stocked, a photographer will go along, and I think--don't you? a +water-color artist. You can take your own time, stop when and where +you choose--at the more stations the better. It ought to be profusely +illustrated with scenes on the line--yes, have colored plates, all that +would give life and character to your story. Love on a Special, some +such title as that. It would run like oil. I will arrange to have it as +a serial in one of the big magazines, and then the book would be bound +to go. The company, of course, can have nothing to do with it, but I can +tell you privately that it would rather distribute a hundred thousand +copies of a book of good literature through the country than to +encourage the railway truck that is going now. + +“I shouldn't wonder, Mr. Burnett, if the public would be interested in +having the Puritan Nun take that kind of a trip.” And Mr. Ault ended his +explanation with an interrogatory smile. + +Philip hesitated a moment, trying to grasp the conception of this +business use of literature. Mr. Ault resumed: + +“It isn't anything in the nature of an advertisement. Literature is a +power. Why, do you know--of course you did not intend it--your story has +encouraged the Peacock Inn to double its accommodations, and half the +farmhouses in Rivervale are expecting summer boarders. The landlord +of the Peacock came to see me the other day, and he says everything is +stirred up there, and he has already to enlarge or refuse application.” + +“It is very kind in you, Mr. Ault, to think of me in that connection, +but I fear you have over-estimated my capacity. I could name half a +dozen men who could do it much better than I could. They know how to do +it, they have that kind of touch. I have been surprised at the literary +ability engaged by the great corporations.” + +Mr. Ault made a gesture of impatience. “I wouldn't give a damn for +that sort of thing. It is money thrown away. If I should get one of the +popular writers you refer to, the public would know he was hired. If you +lay your story out there, nobody will suspect anything of the sort. It +will be a clean literary novel. Not travel, you understand, but a story, +and the more love in it the better. It will be a novelty. You can run +your car sixty miles an hour in exciting passages, everything will work +into it. When people travel on the road the pictures will show them the +scenes of the story. It is a big thing,” said Mr. Ault in conclusion. + +“I see it is,” said Philip, rising at the hint that his time had +expired. “I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Ault, for your confidence +in me. But it is a new idea. I will have to think it over.” + +“Well, think it over. There is money in it. You would not start till +about midsummer. Good-day.” + +A private car! Travel like a prince! Certainly literature was looking +up in the commercial world. Philip walked back to his publishers with a +certain elasticity of step, a new sense of power. Yes, the power of the +pen. And why not? No doubt it would bring him money and spread his name +very widely. There was nothing that a friendly corporation could not +do for a favorite. He would then really be a part of the great, active, +enterprising world. Was there anything illegitimate in taking advantage +of such an opportunity? Surely, he should remain his own master, and +write nothing except what his own conscience approved. But would he not +feel, even if no one else knew it, that he was the poet-laureate of a +corporation? + +And suddenly, as he thought how the clear vision of Evelyn would plunge +to the bottom of such a temptation, he felt humiliated that such a +proposition should have been made to him. Was there nothing, nobody, +that commercialism did not think for sale and to be trafficked in? + +Nevertheless, he wrote to Alice about it, describing the proposal as it +was made to him, without making any comment on it. + +Alice replied speedily. “Isn't it funny,” she wrote, “and isn't it +preposterous? I wonder what such people think? And that horrid young +pirate, Ault, a patron of literature! My dear, I cannot conceive of you +as the Pirate's Own. Dear Phil, I want you to succeed. I do want you to +make money, a lot of it. I like to think you are wanted and appreciated, +and that you can get paid better and better for what you do. Sell your +manuscripts for as good a price as you can get. Yes, dear, sell your +manuscripts, but don't sell your soul.” + + + + +XX + +Did Miss McDonald tell Evelyn of her meeting with Philip in Central +Park? The Scotch loyalty to her service would throw a doubt upon this. +At the same time, the Scotch affection, the Scotch sympathy with a true +and romantic passion, and, above all, the Scotch shrewdness, could be +trusted to do what was best under the circumstances. That she gave the +least hint of what she said to Mr. Burnett concerning Evelyn is not to +be supposed for a moment. Certainly she did not tell Mrs. Mavick. Was +she a person to run about with idle gossip? But it is certain that +Evelyn knew that Philip had given up his situation in the office, that +he had become a reader for a publishing house, that he had definitely +decided to take up a literary career. And somehow it came into her mind +that Philip knew that this decision would be pleasing to her. + +According to the analogy of other things in nature, it would seem that +love must have something to feed on to sustain it. But it is remarkable +upon how little it can exist, can even thrive and become strong, and +develop a power of resistance to hostile influences. Once it gets a +lodgment in a woman's heart, it is an exclusive force that transforms +her into a heroine of courage and endurance. No arguments, no reason, no +considerations of family, of position, of worldly fortune, no prospect +of immortal life, nothing but doubt of faith in the object can dislodge +it. The woman may yield to overwhelming circumstances, she may even by +her own consent be false to herself, but the love lives, however hidden +and smothered, so long as the vital force is capable of responding to +a true emotion. Perhaps nothing in human life is so pathetic as this +survival in old age of a youthful, unsatisfied love. It may cease to be +a passion, it may cease to be a misery, it may have become only a placid +sentiment, yet the heart must be quite cold before this sentiment can +cease to stir it on occasion--for the faded flower is still in the +memory the bloom of young love. + +They say that in the New Education for women love is not taken into +account in the regular course; it is an elective study. But the immortal +principle of life does not care much for organization, and says, as of +old, they reckon ill who leave me out. + +In the early season at Newport there was little to distract the +attention and much to calm the spirit. Mrs. Mavick was busy in her +preparation for the coming campaign, and Evelyn and her governess were +left much alone, to drive along the softly lapping sea, to search among +the dells of the rocky promontory for wild flowers, or to sit on the +cliffs in front of the gardens of bloom and watch the idle play of the +waves, that chased each other to the foaming beach and in good-nature +tossed about the cat-boats and schooners and set the white sails +shimmering and dipping in the changing lights. And Evelyn, drinking in +the beauty and the peace of it, no doubt, was more pensive than joyous. +Within the last few months life had opened to her with a suddenness that +half frightened her. + +It was a woman who sat on the cliffs now, watching the ocean of life, no +longer a girl into whose fresh soul the sea and the waves and the air, +and the whole beauty of the world, were simply responsive to her own +gayety and enjoyment of living. It was not the charming scene that held +her thought, but the city with its human struggle, and in that struggle +one figure was conspicuous. In such moments this one figure of youth +outweighed for her all that the world held besides. It was strange. +Would she have admitted this? Not in the least, not even to herself, in +her virgin musings; nevertheless, the world was changed for her, it was +more serious, more doubtful, richer, and more to be feared. + +It was not too much to say that one season had much transformed her. She +had been so ignorant of the world a year ago. She had taken for granted +all that was abstractly right. Now she saw that the conventions of life +were like sand-dunes and barriers in the path she was expected to walk. +She had learned for one thing what money was. Wealth had been such +an accepted part of her life, since she could remember, that she +had attached no importance to it, and had only just come to see what +distinctions it made, and how it built a barrier round about her. +She had come to know what it was that gave her father position and +distinction; and the knowledge had been forced upon her by all the +obsequious flattery of society that she was, as a great heiress, +something apart from others. This position, so much envied, may be to a +sensitive soul an awful isolation. + +It was only recently that Evelyn had begun to be keenly aware of the +circumstances that hedged her in. They were speaking one day as they sat +upon the cliffs of the season about to begin. In it Evelyn had always +had unalloyed, childish delight. Now it seemed to her something to be +borne. + +“McDonald,” the girl said, abruptly, but evidently continuing her line +of thought, “mamma says that Lord Montague is coming next week.” + +“To be with us?” + +“Oh, no. He is to stay with the Danforth-Sibbs. Mamma says that as he is +a stranger here we must be very polite to him, and that his being here +will give distinction to the season. Do you like him?” There was in +Evelyn still, with the penetration of the woman, the naivete of the +child. + +“I cannot say that he is personally very fascinating, but then I have +never talked with him.” + +“Mamma says he is very interesting about his family, and their place in +England, and about his travels. He has been in the South Sea Islands. I +asked him about them. He said that the natives were awfully jolly, and +that the climate was jolly hot. Do you know, McDonald, that you can't +get anything out of him but exclamations and slang. I suppose he talks +to other people differently. I tried him. At the reception I asked him +who was going to take Tennyson's place. He looked blank, and then said, +'Er--I must have missed that. What place? Is he out?'” + +Miss McDonald laughed, and then said, “You don't understand the classes +in English life. Poetry is not in his line. You see, dear, you couldn't +talk to him about politics. He is a born legislator, and when he is in +the House of Lords he will know right well who is in and who is out. +You mustn't be unjust because he seems odd to you and of limited +intelligence. Just that sort of youth is liable to turn up some day in +India or somewhere and do a mighty plucky thing, and become a hero. I +dare say he is a great sportsman.” + +“Yes, he quite warmed up about shooting. He told me about going for yak +in the snow mountains south of Thibet. Bloody cold it was. Nasty beast, +if you didn't bring him down first shot. No, I don't doubt his courage +nor his impudence. He looks at me so, that I can't help blushing. I wish +mamma wouldn't ask him.” + +“But, my dear, we must live in the world as it is. You are not +responsible for Lord Montague.” + +“And I know he will come,” the girl persisted in her line of thought. + +“When he called the day before we came away, he asked a lot of questions +about Newport, about horses and polo and golf, and all that, and were +the roads good. And then, 'Do you bike, Miss Mavick?' + +“I pretended not to understand, and said I was still studying with my +governess and I hadn't got all the irregular verbs yet. For once, he +looked quite blank, and after a minute he said, 'That's very good, you +know!' McDonald, I just hate him. He makes me so uneasy.” + +“But don't you know, child,” said Miss McDonald, laughing, “that we are +required to love our enemies?” + +“So I would,” replied the girl, quickly, “if he were an enemy and would +keep away. Ah, me! McDonald, I want to ask you something. Do you suppose +he would hang around a girl who was poor, such a sweet, pretty, dear +creature as Alice Maitland, who is a hundred times nicer than I am?” + +“He might,” said Miss McDonald, still quizzically. “They say that like +goes to like, and it is reported that the Duke of Tewkesbury is as good +as ruined.” + +“Do be serious, McDonald.” The girl nestled up closer to her and took +her hand. “I want to ask you one question more. Do you think--no, don't +look at me, look away off at that sail do you-think that, if I had been +poor, Mr. Burnett would have seen me only twice, just twice, all last +season?” + +Miss McDonald put her arm around Evelyn and clasped the little figure +tight. “You must not give way to fancies. We cannot, as life is +arranged, be perfectly happy, but we can be true to ourselves, and there +is scarcely anything that resolution and patience cannot overcome. I +ought not to talk to you about this, Evelyn. But I must say one thing: I +think I can read Philip Burnett. Oh, he has plenty of self-esteem, but, +unless I mistake him, nothing could so mortify him as to have it said +that he was pursuing a girl for the sake of her fortune.” + +“And he wouldn't!” cried the girl, looking up and speaking in an +unsteady voice. + +“Let me finish. He is, so I think, the sort of man that would not let +any fortune, or anything else, stand in the way when his heart was +concerned. I somehow feel that he could not change--faithfulness, that +is his notion. If he only knew--” + +“He never shall! he never shall!” cried the girl in alarm--“never!” + +“And you think, child, that he doesn't know? Come! That sail has been +coming straight towards us ever since we sat here, never tacked once. +That is omen enough for one day. See how the light strikes it. Come!” + +The Newport season was not, after all, very gay. Society has become so +complex that it takes more than one Englishman to make a season. Were +it the business of the chronicler to study the evolution of this lovely +watering-place from its simple, unconventional, animated days of +natural hospitality and enjoyment, to its present splendid and palatial +isolation of a society--during the season--which finds its chief +satisfaction in the rivalry of costly luxury and in an atmosphere +of what is deemed aristocratic exclusiveness, he would have a theme +attractive to the sociologist. But such a noble study is not for him. +His is the humble task of following the fortunes of certain individuals, +more or less conspicuous in this astonishing flowering of a democratic +society, who have become dear to him by long acquaintance. + +It was not the fault of Mrs. Mavick that the season was so frigid, its +glacial stateliness only now and then breaking out in an illuminating +burst of festivity, like the lighting-up of a Montreal ice-palace. Her +spacious house was always open, and her efforts, in charity enterprises +and novel entertainments, were untiring to stimulate a circulation in +the languid body of society. + +This clever woman never showed more courage or more tact than in this +campaign, and was never more agreeable and fascinating. She was even +popular. If she was not accepted as a leader, she had a certain standing +with the leaders, as a person of vivacity and social influence. Any +company was eager for her presence. Her activity, spirit, and affability +quite won the regard of the society reporters, and those who know +Newport only through the newspapers would have concluded that the +Mavicks were on the top of the wave. She, however, perfectly understood +her position, and knew that the sweet friends, who exchanged with her, +whenever they met, the conventional phrases of affection commented +sarcastically upon her ambitions for her daughter. It was, at the same +time, an ambition that they perfectly understood, and did not condemn on +any ethical grounds. Evelyn was certainly a sweet girl, rather queerly +educated, and never likely to make much of a dash, but she was an +heiress, and why should not her money be put to the patriotic use of +increasing the growing Anglo-American cordiality? + +Lord Montague was, of course, a favorite, in demand for all functions, +and in request for the private and intimate entertainments. He was an +authority in the stables and the kennels, and an eager comrade in +all the sports of the island. His easy manner, his self-possession +everywhere, even his slangy talk, were accepted as evidence that he was +above conventionalities. “The little man isn't a beauty,” said Sally +McTabb, “but he shows 'race.'” He might be eccentric, but when you came +to know him you couldn't help liking the embryo duke in him. + +In fact, things were going very well with Mrs. Mavick, except in her own +household. There was something there that did not yield, that did not +flow with her plans. With Lord Montague she was on the most intimate +and confidential relations. He was almost daily at the house. Often she +drove with him; frequently Evelyn was with them. Indeed, the three came +to be associated in the public mind. There could be no doubt of the +intentions of the young nobleman. That he could meet any opposition was +not conceived. + +The noble lord, since they had been in Newport, had freely opened his +mind to Mrs. Mavick, and on a fit occasion had formally requested her +daughter's hand. Needless to say that he was accepted. Nay, more, he +felt that he was trusted like a son. He was given every opportunity to +press his suit. Somewhat to his surprise, he did not appear to make much +headway. He was rarely able to see her alone, even for a moment. Such +evasiveness in a young girl to a man of his rank astonished him. There +could be no reason for it in himself; there must be some influence at +work unknown to his social experience. + +He did not reproach Mrs. Mavick with this, but he let her see that he +was very much annoyed. + +“If I had not your assurance to the contrary, Mrs. Mavick,” he said one +day in a pet, “I should think she shunned me.” + +“Oh, no, Lord Montague, that could not be. I told you that she had had a +peculiar education; she is perfectly ignorant of the world, she is shy, +and--well, for a girl in her position, she is unconventional. She is so +young that she does not yet understand what life is.” + +“You mean she does not know what I offer her?” + +“Why, my dear Lord Montague, did you ever offer her anything?” + +“Not flat, no,” said my lord, hesitating. “Every time I approach her she +shies off like a young filly. There is something I don't understand.” + +“Evelyn,” and Mrs. Mavick spoke with feeling, “is an affectionate and +dutiful child. She has never thought of marriage. The prospect is all +new to her. But I am sure she would learn to love you if she knew you +and her mind were once turned upon such a union. My lord, why not say +to her what you feel, and make the offer you intend? You cannot expect a +young girl to show her inclination before she is asked.” And Mrs. Mavick +laughed a little to dispel the seriousness. + +“By Jove! that's so, good enough. I'll do it straight out. I'll tell her +to take it or leave it. No, I don't mean that, of course. I'll tell +her that I can't live without her--that sort of thing, you know. And I +can't, that's just the fact.” + +“You can leave it confidently to her good judgment and to the friendship +of the family for you.” + +Lord Montague was silent for a moment, and seemed to be looking at a +problem in his shrewd mind. For he had a shrewd mind, which took in the +whole situation, Mrs. Mavick and all, with a perspicacity that would +have astonished that woman of the world. + +“There is one thing, perhaps I ought not to say it, but I have seen it, +and it is in my head that it is that--I beg your pardon, madam--that +damned governess.” + +The shot went home. The suggestion, put into language that could be more +easily comprehended than defended, illuminated Mrs. Mavick's mind in a +flash, seeming to disclose the source of an opposition to her purposes +which secretly irritated her. Doubtless it was the governess. It was her +influence that made Evelyn less pliable and amenable to reason than a +young girl with such social prospects as she had would naturally be. +Besides, how absurd it was that a young lady in society should still +have a governess. A companion? The proper companion for a girl on the +edge of matrimony was her mother! + + + + +XXI + +This idea, once implanted in Mrs. Mavick's mind, bore speedy fruit. No +one would have accused her of being one of those uncomfortable persons +who are always guided by an inflexible sense of justice, nor could it be +said that she was unintelligently unjust. Facile as she was, in all her +successful life she had never acted upon impulse, but from a conscience +keenly alive to what was just to herself. Miss McDonald was in the way. +And Mrs. Mavick had one quality of good generalship--she acted promptly +on her convictions. + +When Mr. Mavick came over next day to spend Sunday in what was called in +print the bosom of his family, he looked very much worn and haggard +and was in an irritated mood. He had been very little in Newport that +summer, the disturbed state of business confining him to the city. And +to a man of his age, New York in midsummer in a panicky season is not a +recreation. + +The moment Mrs. Mavick got her husband alone she showed a lively +solicitude about his health. + +“I suppose it has been dreadfully hot in the city?” + +“Hot enough. Everything makes it hot.” + +“Has anything gone wrong? Has that odious Ault turned up again?” + +“Turned up is the word. Half the time that man is a mole, half the time +a bull in a china-shop. He sails up to you bearing your own flag, and +when he gets aboard he shows the skull and cross-bones.” + +“Is it so bad as that?” + +“As bad as what? He is a bad lot, but he is just an adventurer--a +Napoleon who will get his Waterloo before fall. Don't bother about +things you don't understand. How are things down here?” + +“Going swimmingly.” “So I judged by the bills. How is the lord?” + +“Now don't be vulgar, Tom. You must keep up your end. Lord Montague is +very nice; he is a great favorite here.” + +“Does Evelyn like him?” + +“Yes, she likes him; she likes him very much.” + +“She didn't show it to me.” + +“No, she is awfully shy. And she is rather afraid of him, the big title +and all that. And then she has never been accustomed to act for herself. +She is old enough to be independent and to take her place in the world. +At her age I was not in leading-strings.” + +“I should say not,” said Mavick. + +“Except in obedience to my mother,” continued Carmen, not deigning to +notice the sarcasm. “And I've been thinking that McDonald--” + +“So you want to get rid of her?” + +“What a brutal way of putting it! No. But if Evelyn is ever to be +self-reliant it is time she should depend more on herself. You know I +am devoted to McDonald. And, what is more, I am used to her. I wasn't +thinking of her. You don't realize that Evelyn is a young lady in +society, and it has become ridiculous for her to still have a governess. +Everybody would say so.” + +“Well, call her a companion.” + +“Ah, don't you see it would be the same? She would still be under her +influence and not able to act for herself.” + +“What are you going to do? Turn her adrift after eighteen--what is it, +seventeen?--years of faithful service?” + +“How brutally you put it. I'm going to tell McDonald just how it is. She +is a sensible woman, and she will see that it is for Evelyn's good. And +then it happens very luckily. Mrs. Van Cortlandt asked me last winter +if I wouldn't let her have McDonald for her little girl when we were +through with her. She knew, of course, that we couldn't keep a governess +much longer for Evelyn. I am going to write to her. She will jump at the +chance.” + +“And McDonald?” + +“Oh, she likes Mrs. Van Cortlandt. It will just suit her.” + +“And Evelyn? That will be another wrench.” Men are so foolishly +tender-hearted about women. + +“Of course, I know it seems hard, and will be for a little. But it is +for Evelyn's good, I am perfectly sure.” + +Mr. Mavick was meditating. It was a mighty unpleasant business. But he +was getting tired of conflict. There was an undercurrent in the lives of +both that made him shrink from going deep into any domestic difference. +It was best to yield. + +“Well, Carmen, I couldn't have the heart to do it. She has been Evelyn's +constant companion all the child's life. Ah, well, it's your own affair. +Only don't stir it up till after I am gone. I must go to the city early +Monday morning.” + +Because Mavick, amid all the demands of business and society, and his +ambitions for power in the world of finance and politics, had not had +much time to devote to his daughter, it must not be supposed that he did +not love her. In the odd moments at her service she had always been a +delight to him; and, in truth, many of his ambitions had centred in the +intelligent, affectionate, responsive child. But there had been no time +for much real comradeship. + +This Sunday, however, and it was partly because of pity for the shock +he felt was in store for her, he devoted himself to her. They had a long +walk on the cliff, and he talked to her of his life, of his travels, and +his political experience. She was a most appreciative listener, and +in the warmth of his confidence she opened her mind to him, and rather +surprised him by her range of intelligence and the singular uprightness +of her opinions, and more still by her ready wit and playfulness. It was +the first time she had felt really free with her father, and he for the +first time seemed to know her as she was in her inner life. When +they returned to the house, and she was thanking him with a glow of +enthusiasm for such a lovely day, he lifted her up and kissed her, with +an emotion of affection that brought tears to her eyes. + +A couple of days elapsed before Mrs. Mavick was ready for action. During +this time she had satisfied herself, by apparently casual conversation +with her daughter and Miss McDonald, that the latter would be wholly out +of sympathy with her intentions in regard to Evelyn. Left to herself she +judged that her daughter would look with more favor upon the brilliant +career offered to her by Lord Montague. When, therefore, one morning +the governess was summoned to her room, her course was decided on. She +received Miss McDonald with more than usual cordiality. She had in her +hand a telegram, and beamed upon her as the bearer of good news. + +“I have an excellent offer for you, Miss McDonald.” + +“An offer for me?” + +“Yes, from Mrs. Van Cortlandt, to be the governess of her daughter, a +sweet little girl of six. She has often spoken about it, and now I have +an urgent despatch from her. She is in need of some one at once, and she +greatly prefers you.” + +“Do you mean, Mrs. Mavick, that--you--want--that I am to leave Evelyn, +and you?” The room seemed to whirl around her. + +“It is not what we want, McDonald,” said Mrs. Mavick calmly and still +beaming, “but what is best. Your service as governess has continued much +longer than could have been anticipated, and of course it must come to +an end some time. You understand how hard this separation is for all of +us. Mr. Mavick wanted me to express to you his infinite obligation, and +I am sure he will take a substantial way of showing it. Evelyn is now +a young lady in society, and of course it is absurd for her to continue +under pupilage. It will be best for her, for her character, to be +independent and learn to act for herself in the world.” + +“Did she--has Evelyn--” + +“No, I have said nothing to her of this offer, which is a most +advantageous one. Of course she will feel as we do, at first.” + +“Why, all these years, all her life, since she was a baby, not a day, +not a night, Evelyn, and now--so sweet, so dear--why Mrs. Mavick!” And +the Scotch woman, dazed, with a piteous appeal in her eyes, trying in +vain to control her face, looked at her mistress. + +“My dear McDonald, you must not take it that way. It is only a change. +You are not going away really, we shall all be in the same city. I am +sure you will--like your new home. Shall I tell Mrs. Van Cortlandt?” + +“Tell Mrs. Van Cortlandt? Yes, tell her, thanks. I will go--soon--at +once. In a little time, to get-ready. Thanks.” The governess rose and +stood a moment to steady herself. All her life was in ruins. The blow +crushed her. And she had been so happy. In such great peace. It seemed +impossible. To leave Evelyn! She put out her hand as if to speak. Did +Mrs. Mavick understand what she was doing? That it was the same as +dragging a mother away from her child? But she said nothing. Words would +not come. Everything seemed confused and blank. She sank into her chair. + +“Excuse me, Mrs. Mavick, I think I am not very strong this morning.” And +presently she stood on her feet again and steadied herself. “You will +please tell Evelyn before--before I see her.” And she walked out of the +room as one in a trance. + +The news was communicated to Evelyn, quite incidentally, in the manner +that all who knew Mrs. Mavick admired in her. Evelyn had just been in +and out of her mother's room, on one errand and another, and was going +out again, when her mother said: + +“Oh, by-the-way, Evelyn, at last we have got a splendid place for +McDonald.” + +Evelyn turned, not exactly comprehending. “A place for McDonald? For +what?” + +“As governess, of course. With Mrs. Van Cortlandt.” + +“What! to leave us?” The girl walked back to her mother's chair and +stood before her in an attitude of wonder and doubt. “You don't mean, +mamma, that she is going away for good?” + +“It is a great chance for her. I have been anxious for some time about +employment for her, now that you do not need a governess--haven't really +for a year or two.” + +“But, mamma, it can't be. She is part of us. She belongs to the family; +she has been in it almost as long as I have. Why, I have been with her +every day of my life. To go away? To give her up? Does she know?” + +“Does she know? What a child! She has accepted Mrs. Van Cortlandt's +offer. I telegraphed for her this morning. Tomorrow she goes to town to +get her belongings together. Mrs. Van Cortlandt needs her at once. I am +sorry to see, my dear, that you are thinking only of yourself.” + +“Of myself?” The girl had been at first confused, and, as the idea +forced itself upon her mind, she felt weak, and trembled, and was deadly +pale. But when the certainty came, the enormity and cruelty of the +dismissal aroused her indignation. “Myself!” she exclaimed again. Her +eyes blazed with a wrath new to their tenderness, and, stepping back and +stamping her foot; she cried out: “She shall not go! It is unjust! It is +cruel!” + +Her mother had never seen her child like that. She was revealing a +spirit of resistance, a temper, an independence quite unexpected. And +yet it was not altogether displeasing. Mrs. Mavick's respect for her +involuntarily rose. And after an instant, instead of responding with +severity, as was her first impulse, she said, very calmly: + +“Naturally, Evelyn, you do not like to part with her. None of us do. But +go to your room and think it over reasonably. The relations of childhood +cannot last forever.” + +Evelyn stood for a moment undecided. Her mother's calm self-control had +not deceived her. She was no longer a child. It was a woman reading a +woman. All her lifetime came back to her to interpret this moment. In +the reaction of the second, the deepest pain was no longer for herself, +nor even for Miss McDonald, but for a woman who showed herself so +insensible to noble feeling. Protest was useless. But why was the +separation desired? She did not fully see, but her instinct told her +that it had a relation to her mother's plans for her; and as life +rose before her in the society, in the world, into which she was newly +launched, she felt that she was alone, absolutely alone. She tried to +speak, but before she could collect her thoughts her mother said: + +“There, go now. It is useless to discuss the matter. We all have to +learn to bear things.” + +Evelyn went away, in a tumult of passion and of shame, and obeyed her +impulse to go where she had always found comfort. + +Miss McDonald was in her own room. Her trunk was opened. She had taken +her clothes from the closet. She was opening the drawers and laying one +article here and another there. She was going from closet to bureau, +opening this door and shutting that in her sitting-room and bedroom, in +an aimless, distracted way. Out of her efforts nothing had so far come +but confusion. It seemed an impossible dream that she was actually +packing up to go away forever. + +Evelyn entered in a haste that could not wait for permission. + +“Is it true?” she cried. + +McDonald turned. She could not speak. Her faithful face was gray with +suffering. Her eyes were swollen with weeping. For an instant she seemed +not to comprehend, and then a flood of motherly feeling overcame her. +She stretched out her arms and caught the girl to her breast in a +passionate embrace, burying her face in her neck in a vain effort to +subdue her sobbing. + +What was there to say? Evelyn had come to her refuge for comfort, and +to Evelyn the comforter it was she herself who must be the comforter. +Presently she disengaged herself and forced the governess into an easy +chair. She sat down on the arm of the chair and smoothed her hair and +kissed her again and again. + +“There. I'm going to help you. You'll see you have not taught me for +nothing.” She jumped up and began to bustle about. “You don't know what +a packer I am.” + +“I knew it must come some time,” she was saying, with a weary air, as +she followed with her eyes the light step of the graceful girl, who +was beginning to sort things and to bring order out of the confusion, +holding up one article after another and asking questions with an +enforced cheerfulness that was more pathetic than any burst of grief. + +“Yes, I know. There, that is laid in smooth.” She pretended to be +thinking what to put in next, and suddenly she threw herself into +McDonald's lap and began to talk gayly. “It is all my fault, dear; I +should have stayed little. And it doesn't make any difference. I know +you love me, and oh, McDonald, I love you more, a hundred times more, +than ever. If you did not love me! Think how dreadful that would be. And +we shall not be separated-only by streets, don't you know. They can't +separate us. I know you want me to be brave. And some day, perhaps” (and +she whispered in her ear--how many hundred times had she told her girl +secrets in that way!), “if I do have a home of my own, then--” + +It was not very cheerful talk, however it seemed to be, but it was +better than silence, and in the midst of it, with many interruptions, +the packing was over, and some sort of serenity was attained even by +Miss McDonald. “Yes, dear heart, we have love and trust and hope.” But +when the preparations were all made, and Evelyn went to her own room, +there did not seem to be so much hope, nor any brightness in the midst +of this first great catastrophe of her life. + + + + +XXII + +The great Mavick ball at Newport, in the summer long remembered for its +financial disasters, was very much talked about at the time. Long after, +in any city club, a man was sure to have attentive listeners if he, +began his story or his gossip with the remark that he was at the Mavick +ball. + +It attracted great attention, both on account of the circumstances that +preceded it and the events which speedily followed, and threw a light +upon it that gave it a spectacular importance. The city journals made +a feature of it. They summoned their best artists to illustrate it, +and illuminate it in pen-and-ink, half-tones, startling colors, and +photographic reproductions, sketches theatrical, humorous, and poetic, +caricatures, pictures of tropical luxury and aristocratic pretension; in +short, all the bewildering affluence of modern art which is brought to +bear upon the aesthetic cultivation of the lowest popular taste. They +summoned their best novelists to throw themselves recklessly upon the +English language, and extort from it its highest expression in color +and lyrical beauty, the novelists whose mission it is, in the newspaper +campaign against realism, to adorn and dramatize the commonest events +of life, creating in place of the old-fashioned “news” the highly spiced +“story,” which is the ideal aspiration of the reporter. + +Whatever may be said about the power of the press, it is undeniable +that it can set the entire public thinking and talking about any topic, +however insignificant in itself, that it may elect to make the sensation +of the day--a wedding, a murder, a political scandal, a divorce, a +social event, a defalcation, a lost child, an unidentified victim +of accident or crime, an election, or--that undefined quickener of +patriotism called a casus belli. It can impose any topic it pleases upon +the public mind. In case there is no topic, it is necessary to make one, +for it is an indefeasible right of the public to have news. + +These reports of the Mavick ball had a peculiar interest for at least +two people in New York. Murad Ault read them with a sardonic smile and +an enjoyment that would not have been called altruistic. Philip searched +them with the feverish eagerness of a maiden who scans the report of a +battle in which her lover has been engaged. + +All summer long he had lived upon stray bits of news in the society +columns of the newspapers. To see Evelyn's name mentioned, and only +rarely, as a guest at some entertainment, and often in connection with +that of Lord Montague, did not convey much information, nor was that +little encouraging. Was she well? Was she absorbed in the life of the +season? Did she think of him in surroundings so brilliant? Was she, +perhaps, unhappy and persecuted? No tidings came that could tell him the +things that he ached to know. + +Only recently intelligence had come to him that at the same time wrung +his heart with pity and buoyed him up with hope. He had not seen Miss +McDonald since her dismissal, for she had been only one night in the +city, but she had written to him. Relieved by her discharge of all +obligations of silence, she had written him frankly about the whole +affair, and, indeed, put him in possession of unrecorded details and +indications that filled him with anxiety, to be sure, but raised his +courage and strengthened his determination. If Evelyn loved him, he had +faith that no manoeuvres or compulsion could shake her loyalty. And yet +she was but a girl; she was now practically alone, and could she resist +the family and the social pressure? Few women could, few women do, +effectively resist under such circumstances. With one of a tender heart, +duty often takes the most specious and deceiving forms. In yielding to +the impulses of her heart, which in her inexperience may be mistaken, +has a girl the right--from a purely rational point of view--to set +herself against, nay, to destroy, the long-cherished ambitions of her +parents for a brilliant social career for her, founded upon social +traditions of success? For what had Mr. Mavick toiled? For what had Mrs. +Mavick schemed all these years? Could the girl throw herself away? Such +disobedience, such disregard for social law, would seem impossible to +her mother. + +Some of the events that preceded the Mavick ball throw light upon that +interesting function. After the departure of Miss McDonald, Mrs. Mavick, +in one of her confidential talks with her proposed son-in-law, confessed +that she experienced much relief. An obstacle seemed to be removed. + +In fact, Evelyn rather surprised her mother by what seemed a calm +acceptance of the situation. There was no further outburst. If the girl +was often preoccupied and seemed listless, that was to be expected, on +the sudden removal of the companion of her lifetime. + +But she did not complain. She ceased after a while to speak of McDonald. +If she showed little enthusiasm in what was going on around her, she was +compliant, she fell in at once with her mother's suggestions, and went +and came in an attitude of entire obedience. + +“It isn't best for you to keep up a correspondence, my dear, now that +you know that McDonald is nicely settled--all reminiscent correspondence +is very wearing--and, really, I am more than delighted to see that you +are quite capable of walking alone. Do you know, Evelyn, that I am more +and more proud of you every day, as my daughter. I don't dare to tell +you half the nice things that are said of you. It would make you vain.” + And the proud mother kissed her affectionately. The letters ceased. If +the governess wrote, Evelyn did not see the letters. + +As the days went by, Lord Montague, in high and confident spirits, +became more and more a familiar inmate of the house. Daily he sent +flowers to Evelyn; he contrived little excursions and suppers; he was +marked in his attentions wherever they went. “He is such a dear fellow,” + said Mrs. Mavick to one of her friends; “I don't know how we should get +on without him.” + +Only, in the house, owing to some unnatural perversity of circumstances, +he did not see much of Evelyn, never alone for more than a moment. It +is wonderful what efficient, though invisible, defenses most women, when +they will, can throw about themselves. + +That the affair was “arranged” Lord Montague had no doubt. It was not +conceivable that the daughter of an American stock-broker would refuse +the offer of a position so transcendent and so evidently coveted in a +democratic society. Not that the single-minded young man reasoned about +it this way. He was born with a most comfortable belief in himself +and the knowledge that when he decided to become a domestic man he had +simply, as the phrase is, to throw his handkerchief. + +At home, where such qualities as distinguished him from the common were +appreciated without the need of personal exertion, this might be true; +but in America it did seem to be somehow different. American women, at +least some of them, did need to be personally wooed; and many of them +had a sort of independence in the bestowal of their affections or, what +they understood to be the same thing, themselves that must be taken +into account. And it gradually dawned upon the mind of this inheritor +of privilege that in this case the approval of the family, even the +pressure of the mother, was not sufficient; he must have also Evelyn's +consent. If she were a mature woman who knew and appreciated the world, +she would perceive the advantages offered to her without argument. But +a girl, just released from the care of her governess, unaccustomed to +society, might have notions, or, in the vernacular of the scion, might +be skittish. + +And then, again, to do the wooer entire justice, the dark little girl, +so much mistress of herself, so evidently spirited, with such an air +of distinction, began to separate herself in his mind as a good goer +against the field, and he had a real desire to win her affection. The +more indifferent she was to him, the keener was his desire to possess +her. His unsuccessful wooing had passed through several stages, first +astonishment, then pique, and finally something very like passion, or +a fair semblance of devotion, backed, of course, since all natures are +more or less mixed, by the fact that this attractive figure of the woman +was thrown into high relief by the colossal fortune behind her. + +And Evelyn herself? Neither her mother nor her suitor appreciated +the uncommon circumstances that her education, her whole training in +familiarity with pure and lofty ideals, had rendered her measurably +insensible to the social considerations that seemed paramount to them, +or that there could be any real obstacle to the bestowal of her person. +where her heart was not engaged. Yet she perfectly understood her +situation, and, at times, deprived of her lifelong support, she felt +powerless in it, and she suffered as only the pure and the noble can +suffer. Day after day she fought her battle alone, now and then, as +the situation confronted her, assailed by a shudder of fear, as of one +awakening in the night from a dream of peril, the clutch of an assassin, +or the walking on an icy precipice. If McDonald were only with her! +If she could only hear from Philip! Perhaps he had lost hope and was +submitting to the inevitable. + +The opportunity which Lord Montague had long sought came one day +unexpectedly, or perhaps it was contrived. They were waiting in the +drawing-room for an afternoon drive. The carriage was delayed, and Mrs. +Mavick excused herself to ascertain the cause of the delay. Evelyn and +her suitor were left alone. She was standing by a window looking out, +and he was standing by the fireplace watching the swing of the figure +on the pendulum of the tall mantelpiece clock. He was the first to break +the silence. + +“Your clock, Miss Mavick, is a little fast.” No reply. “Or else I am +slow.” Still no reply. “They say, you know, that I am a little slow, +over here.” No reply. “I am not, really, you know. I know my mind. And +there was something, Miss Mavick, something particular, that I wanted to +say to you.” + +“Yes?” without turning round. “The carriage will be here in a minute.” + +“Never mind that,” and Lord Montague moved away from the fireplace and +approached the girl; “take care of the minutes and the hours will take +care of themselves, as the saying is.” At this unexpected stroke of +brilliancy Evelyn did turn round, and stood in an expectant attitude. +The moment had evidently come, and she would not meet it like a coward. + +“We have been friends a long time; not so very long, but it seems to me +the best part of my life,” he was looking down and speaking slowly, with +the modest deference of a gentleman, “and you must have seen, that is, +I wanted you to see, you know well, that is--er--what I was staying on +here for.” + +“Because you like America, I suppose,” said Evelyn, coolly. + +“Because I like some things in America--that is just the fact,” + continued the little lord, with more confidence. “And that is why I +stayed. You see I couldn't go away and leave what was best in the world +to me.” + +There was an air of simplicity and sincerity about this that was +unexpected, and could not but be respected by any woman. But Evelyn +waited, still immovable. + +“It wasn't reasonable that you should like a stranger right off,” he +went on, “just at first, and I waited till you got to know me better. +Ways are different here and over there, I know that, but if you came to +know me, Miss Mavick, you would see that I am not such a bad sort of +a fellow.” And a deprecatory smile lighted up his face that was almost +pathetic. To Evelyn this humility seemed genuine, and perhaps it was, +for the moment. Certainly the eyes she bent on, the odd little figure +were less severe. + +“All this is painful to me, Lord Montague.” + +“I'm sorry,” he continued, in the same tone. “I cannot help it. I must +say it. I--you must know that I love you.” And then, not heeding the +nervous start the girl gave in stepping backward, “And--and, will you be +my wife?” + +“You do me too much honor, Lord Montague,” said Evelyn, summoning up all +her courage. + +“No, no, not a bit of it.” + +“I am obliged to you for your good opinion, but you know I am almost a +school-girl. My governess has just left me. I have never thought of such +a thing. And, Lord Montague, I cannot return your feeling. That is all. +You must see how painful this is to me.” + +“I wouldn't give you pain, Miss Mavick, not for the world. Perhaps when +you think it over it will seem different to you. I am sure it will. +Don't answer now, for good.” + +“No, no, it cannot be,” said Evelyn, with something of alarm in her +tone, for the full meaning of it all came over her as she thought of her +mother. + +“You are not offended?” + +“No,” said Evelyn. + +“I couldn't bear to offend you. You cannot think I would. And you will +not be hard-hearted. You know me, Miss Mavick, just where I am. I'm just +as I said.” + +“The carriage is coming,” said Mrs. Mavick, who returned at this moment. + +The group for an instant was silent, and then Evelyn said: + +“We have waited so long; mamma, that I am a little tired, and you will +excuse me from the drive this afternoon?” + +“Certainly, my dear.” + +When the two were seated in the carriage, Mrs. Mavick turned to Lord +Montague: + +“Well?” + +“No go,” replied my lord, as sententiously, and in evident bad humor. + +“What? And you made a direct proposal?” + +“Showed her my whole hand. Made a square offer. Damme, I am not used to +this sort of thing.” + +“You don't mean that she refused you?” + +“Don't know what you call it. Wouldn't start.” + +“She couldn't have understood you. What did she say?” + +“Said it was too much honor, and that rot. By Jove, she didn't look it. +I rather liked her pluck. She didn't flinch.” + +“Oh, is that all?” And Mrs. Mavick spoke as if her mind were relieved. +“What could you expect from such a sudden proposal to a young girl, +almost a child, wholly unused to the world? I should have done the same +thing at her age. It will look different to her when she reflects, and +understands what the position is that is offered her. Leave that to me.” + +Lord Montague shook his head and screwed up his keen little eyes. His +mind was in full play. “I know women, Mrs. Mavick, and I tell you there +is something behind this. Somebody has been in the stable.” The noble +lord usually dropped into slang when he was excited. + +“I don't understand your language,” said Mrs. Mavick, straightening +herself up in her seat. + +“I beg pardon. It is just a way of speaking on the turf. When a favorite +goes lame the morning of the race, we know some one has been tampering +with him. I tell you there is some one else. She has some one else in +her mind. That's the reason of it.” + +“Nonsense.” cried Mrs. Mavick, with the energy of conviction. “It's +impossible. There is nobody, couldn't be anybody. She has led a secluded +life till this hour. She hasn't a fancy, I know.” + +“I hope you are right,” he replied, in the tone of a man wishing to take +a cheerful view. “Perhaps I don't understand American girls.” + +“I think I do,” she said, smiling. “They are generally amenable to +reason. Evelyn now has something definite before her. I am glad you +proposed.” + +And this was the truth. Mrs. Mavick was elated. So far her scheme was +completely successful. As to Evelyn, she trusted to various influences +she could bring to bear. Ultimate disobedience of her own wishes she did +not admit as a possible thing. + +A part of her tactics was the pressure of public opinion, so far as +society represents it--that is, what society expects. And therefore +it happened in a few days that a strong suspicion got about that +Lord Montague had proposed formally to the heiress. The suspicion was +strengthened by appearances. Mrs. Mavick did not deny the rumor. That +there was an engagement was not affirmed, but that the honor had been or +would be declined was hardly supposable. + +In the painful interview between mother and daughter concerning this +proposal, Evelyn had no reason to give for her opposition, except that +she did not love him. This point Mrs. Mavick skillfully evaded and +minimized. Of course she would love him in time. The happiest marriages +were founded on social fitness and the judgment of parents, and not on +the inexperienced fancies of young girls. And in this case things had +gone too far to retreat. Lord Montague's attentions had been too open +and undisguised. He had been treated almost as a son by the house. +Society looked upon the affair as already settled. Had Evelyn reflected +on the mortification that would fall upon her mother if she persisted in +her unreasonable attitude? And Mrs. Mavick shed actual tears in thinking +upon her own humiliation. + +The ball which followed these private events was also a part of Mrs. +Mavick's superb tactics. It would be in a way a verification of the +public rumors and a definite form of pressure which public expectation +would exercise upon the lonely girl. + +The splendor of this function is still remembered. There were, however, +features in the glowing descriptions of it which need to be mentioned. +It was assumed that it was for a purpose, that it was in fact, if not a +proclamation, at least an intimation of a new and brilliant Anglo-Saxon +alliance. No one asserted that an engagement existed. But the prominent +figures in the spectacle were the English lord and the young and +beautiful American heiress. There were portraits of both in half-tone. +The full names and titles expectant of Lord Montague were given, a +history of the dukedom of Tewkesbury and its ancient glory, with the +long line of noble names allied to the young lord, who was a social star +of the first magnitude, a great traveler, a sportsman of the stalwart +race that has the world for its field. (“Poor little Monte,” said +the managing editor as he passed along these embellishments with his +approval.) + +On the other hand, the proposed alliance was no fall in dignity or +family to the English house. The heiress was the direct descendant of +the Eschelles, an old French family, distinguished in camp and court in +the glorious days of the Grand Monarch. + + + + +XXIII + +Probably no man ever wrote and published a book, a magazine story, or a +bit of verse without an instant decision to repeat the experiment. The +inclination once indulged becomes insatiable. It is not altogether the +gratified vanity of seeing one's self in print, for, before printing +was, the composers and reciters of romances and songs were driven +along the same path of unrest and anxiety, when once they had the least +recognition of their individual distinction. The impulse is more subtle +than the desire for wealth or the craving for political place. In some +cases it is in simple obedience to the longing to create; in others it +is a lower ambition for notoriety, for praise. + +In any case the experiment of authorship, in however humble, a way, has +an analogy to that other tempting occupation of making “investments” in +the stock-market: the first trial is certain to lead to another. If the +author succeeds in any degree, his spirit rises to another attempt in +the hope of a wider recognition. If he fails, that is a reason why +he should convince his fellows that the failure was not inherent in +himself, but in ill-luck or a misdirection of his powers. And the +experiment has another analogy to the noble occupation of levying +toll upon the change of values--a first brilliant success is often a +misfortune, inducing an overestimate of capacity, while a very moderate +success, recognized indeed only as a trial, steadies a man, and sets him +upon that serious diligence upon which alone, either in art or business, +any solid fortune is built. + +Philip was fortunate in that his first novel won him a few friends and +a little recognition, but no popularity. It excited neither envy nor +hostility. In the perfunctory and somewhat commercial good words it +received, he recognized the good-nature of the world. In the few short +reviews that dealt seriously with his work, he was able, when the +excitement of seeing himself discussed had subsided, to read between +the lines why The Puritan Nun had failed to make a larger appeal. It was +idyllic and poetic, but it lacked virility; it lacked also simplicity +in dealing with the simple and profound facts of life. He had been too +solicitous to express himself, to write beautifully, instead of letting +the human emotions with which he had to deal show themselves. One notice +had said that it was too “literary”; by which, of course, the critic +meant that he did not follow the solid traditions, the essential +elements in all the great masterpieces of literature that have been +created. And yet he had shown a quality, a facility, a promise, that +had gained him a foothold and a support in the world of books and of the +making of books. And though he had declined Mr. Ault's tempting offer to +illuminate his transcontinental road with a literary torch, he none the +less was pleased with this recognition of his capacity and the value of +his name. + +To say that Philip lived on hope during this summer of heat, +suspensions, and business derangement would be to allow him a too +substantial subsistence. Evelyn, indeed, seemed, at the distance of +Newport, more unattainable than ever, and the scant news he had of the +drama enacted there was a perpetual notice to him of the social gulf +that lay between them. And yet his dream was sustained by occasional +assurances from Miss McDonald of her confidence in Evelyn's belief in +him, nay, of her trust, and she even went so far as to say affection. +So he went on building castles in the air, which melted and were renewed +day after day, like the transient but unfailing splendor of the sunset. + +There was a certain exaltation in this indulgence of his passion that +stimulated his creative faculties, and, while his daily tasks kept +him from being morbid, his imagination was free to play with the +construction of a new story, to which his recent experience would give a +certain solidity and a knowledge of the human struggle as it is. + +He found himself observing character more closely than before, looking +for it not so much in books as in the people he met. There was Murad +Ault, for instance. How he would like to put him into a book! Of +course it would not do to copy a model, raw, like' that, but he fell to +studying his traits, trying to see the common humanity exhibited in him. +Was he a type or was he a freak? This was, however, too dangerous ground +until he knew more of life. + +The week's vacation allowed him by his house was passed in Rivervale. +There, in the calmness of country life, and in the domestic atmosphere +of affection which believed in him, he was far enough removed from +the scene of the spectres of his imagination to see them in proper +perspective, and there the lines of his new venture were laid down, to +be worked out later on, he well knew, in the anxiety and the toil which +should endue the skeleton with life. Rivervale, to be sure, was haunted +by the remembrance of Evelyn; very often the familiar scenes filled him +with an intolerable longing to see again the eyes that had inspired +him, to hear the voice that was like no other in the world, to take the +little hand that had often been so frankly placed in his, and to draw to +him the form in which was embodied all the grace and tender witchery +of womanhood. But the knowledge of what she expected of him was an +inspiration, always present in his visions of her. + +Something of his hopes and fears Alice divined, and he felt her +sympathy, although she did not intrude upon his reticence by any +questions. They talked about Evelyn, but it was Evelyn in Rivervale, not +in Newport. In fact, the sensible girl could regard her cousin's passion +as nothing more than a romance in a young author's life, and to her it +was a sign of his security that he had projected a new story. + +With instinctive perception of his need, she was ever turning his +thoughts upon his literary career. Of course she and all the household +seemed in a conspiracy to flatter and encourage the vanity of +authorship. Was not all the village talking about the reputation he had +conferred on it? Was it not proud of him? Indeed, it did imagine that +the world outside of Rivervale was very much interested in him, and +that he was already an author of distinction. The county Gazette had +announced, as an important piece of news, that the author of The Puritan +Nun was on a visit to his relatives, the Maitlands. This paragraph +seemed to stand out in the paper as an almost immodest exposure of +family life, read furtively at first, and not talked of, and yet +every member of the family was conscious of an increase in the family +importance. Aunt Patience discovered, from her outlook on the road, that +summer visitors had a habit of driving or walking past the house and +then turning back to look at it again. + +So Philip was not only distinguished, but he had the power of conferring +distinction. No one can envy a young author this first taste of fame, +this home recognition. Whatever he may do hereafter, how much more +substantial rewards he may attain, this first sweetness of incense to +his ambition will never come to him again. + +When Philip returned to town, the city was still a social desert, and +he plunged into the work piled up on his desk, the never-ceasing +accumulation of manuscripts, most of them shells which the workers +have dredged up from the mud of the literary ocean, in which the eager +publisher is always expecting to find pearls. Even Celia was still in +the country, and Philip's hours spared from drudgery were given to the +new story. His days, therefore, passed without incident, but not without +pleasure. For whatever annoyances the great city may have usually, it +is in the dull season--that is, the season of its summer out-of-doors +animation--a most attractive and, even stimulating place for the man who +has an absorbing pursuit, say a work in creative fiction. Undisturbed by +social claims or public interests, the very noise and whirl of the +gay metropolis seem to hem him in and protect the world of his own +imagination. + +The first disturbing event in this serenity was the report of the Mavick +ball, already referred to, and the interpretation put upon it by the +newspapers. In this light his plans seemed the merest moonshine. What +became of his fallacious hope of waiting when events were driving on at +this rate? What chance had he in such a social current? Would Evelyn be +strong enough to stem it and to wait also? And to wait for what? For the +indefinite and improbable event of a poor author, hardly yet recognized +as an author, coming into position, into an income (for that was the +weak point in his aspirations) that would not be laughed at by the +millionaire. When he coolly considered it, was it reasonable to expect +that Mr. and Mrs. Mavick would ever permit Evelyn to throw away the +brilliant opportunity for their daughter which was to be the crowning +end of their social ambition? The mere statement of the proposition was +enough to overwhelm him. + +That this would be the opinion of the world he could not doubt. He +felt very much alone. It was not, however, in any resolve to make a +confidante of Celia, but in an absolute need of companionship, that he +went to see if she had returned. That he had any personal interest in +this ball he did not intend to let Celia know, but talk with somebody he +must. Of his deep affection for this friend of his boyhood, there was no +doubt, nor of his knowledge of her devotion to his interests. Why, then, +was he reserved with her upon the absorbing interest of his life? + +Celia had returned, before the opening of the medical college, full of a +new idea. This was nothing new in her restless nature; but if Philip +had not been blinded by the common selfishness of his sex, he might +have seen in the gladness of her welcome of him something more than mere +sisterly affection. + +“Are you real glad to see me, Phil? I thought you might be lonesome by +this time in the deserted city.” + +“I was, horribly.” He was still holding her hand. “Without a chance to +talk with you or Alice, I am quite an orphan.” + +“Ah! You or Alice!” A shade of disappointment came over her face as she +dropped his hand. But she rallied in a moment. + +“Poor boy! You ought to have a guardian. What heroine of romance are you +running after now?” + +“In my new story?” + +“Of course.” + +“She isn't very well defined in my mind yet. But a lovely girl, without +anything peculiar, no education to speak of, or career, fascinating in +her womanhood, such as might walk out of the Bible. Don't you think that +would be a novelty? But it is the most difficult to do.” + +“Negative. That sort has gone out. Philip, why don't you take the +heroine of the Mavick ball? There is a theme.” She was watching him +shrewdly, and saw the flush in his face as he hurriedly asked, + +“Did you ever see her?” + +“Only at a distance. But you must know her well enough for a literary +purpose. The reports of the ball give you the setting of the drama.” + +“Did you read them?” + +“I should say I did. Most amusing.” + +“Celia, don't you think it would be an ungentlemanly thing to take a +social event like that?” + +“Why, you must take life as it is. Of course you would change the +details. You could lay the scene in Philadelphia. Nobody would suspect +you then.” + +Philip shook his head. The conversation was not taking the turn that was +congenial to him. The ball seemed to him a kind of maelstrom in which +all his hopes were likely to be wrecked. And here was his old friend, +the keenest-sighted woman he knew, looking upon it simply as literary +material--a ridiculous social event. He had better change the subject. + +“So the college is not open yet?” + +“No, I came back because I had a new idea, and wanted time to look +around. We haven't got quite the right idea in our city missions. They +have another side. We need country missions.” + +“Aren't they that now?” + +“No, I mean for the country. I've been about a good deal all this +vacation, and my ideas are confirmed. The country towns and villages +are full of young hoodlums and toughs, and all sorts of wickedness. +They could be improved by sending city boys up there--yes, and girls of +tender age. I don't mean the worst ones, not altogether. The young of a +certain low class growing up in the country are even worse than the same +class in the city, and they lack a civility of manner which is pretty +sure to exist in a city-bred person.” + +“If the country is so bad, why send any more unregenerates into it?” + +“How do you know that anybody is always to be unregenerate? But I +wouldn't send thieves and imbeciles. I would select children of some +capacity, whose circumstances are against them where they are, and I +am sure they would make better material than a good deal of the young +generation in country villages now. This is what I mean by a mission for +the country. We have been bending all our efforts to the reformation of +the cities. What we need to go at now is the reforming of the country.” + +“You have taken a big contract,” said Philip, smiling at her enthusiasm. +“Don't you intend to go on with medicine?” + +“Certainly. At least far enough to be of some use in breaking up +people's ignorance about their own bodies. Half the physical as well as +moral misery comes from ignorance. Didn't I always tell you that I want +to know? A good many of my associates pretend to be agnostics, neither +believe or disbelieve in anything. The further I go the more I am +convinced that there is a positive basis for things. They talk about the +religion of humanity. I tell you, Philip, that humanity is pretty poor +stuff to build a religion on.” + +The talk was wandering far away from what was in Philip's mind, and +presently Celia perceived his want of interest. + +“There, that is enough about myself. I want to know all about you, your +visit to Rivervale, how the publishing house suits you, how the story is +growing.” + +And Philip talked about himself, and the rumors in Wall Street, and Mr. +Ault and his offer, and at last about the Mavicks--he could not help +that--until he felt that Celia was what she had always been to him, and +when he went away he held her hand and said what a dear, sweet friend +she was. + +And when he had gone, Celia sat a long time by the window, not seeing +much of the hot street into which she looked, until there were tears in +her eyes. + + + + +XXIV + +There was one man in New York who thoroughly enjoyed the summer. Murad +Ault was, as we say of a man who is free to indulge his natural powers, +in his element. There are ingenious people who think that if the +ordering of nature had been left to them, they could maintain moral +conditions, or at least restore a disturbed equilibrium, without +violence, without calling in the aid of cyclones and of uncontrollable +electric displays, in order to clear the air. There are people also +who hold that the moral atmosphere of the world does not require the +occasional intervention of Murad Ault. + +The conceit is flattering to human nature, but it is not borne out by +the performance of human nature in what is called the business world, +which is in such intimate alliance with the social world in such +great centres of conflict as London, New York, or Chicago. Mr. Ault is +everywhere an integral and necessary part of the prevailing system--that +is, the system by which the moral law is applied to business. The +system, perhaps, cannot be defended, but it cannot be explained without +Mr. Ault. We may argue that such a man is a disturber of trade, of +legitimate operations, of the fairest speculations, but when we see +how uniform he is as a phenomenon, we begin to be convinced that he is +somehow indispensable to the system itself. We cannot exactly understand +why a cyclone should pick up a peaceful village in Nebraska and deposit +it in Kansas, where there, is already enough of that sort, but we cannot +conceive of Wall Street continuing to be Wall Street unless it were now +and then visited by a powerful adjuster like Mr. Ault. + +The advent, then, of Murad Ault in New York was not a novelty, but a +continuation of like phenomena in the Street, ever since the day when +ingenious men discovered that the ability to guess correctly which of +two sparrows, sold for a farthing, lighting on the spire of Trinity +Church, will fly first, is an element in a successful and distinguished +career. There was nothing peculiar in kind in his career, only in the +force exhibited which lifted him among the few whose destructive energy +the world condones and admires as Napoleonic. He may have been an +instrument of Providence. When we do not know exactly what to do with +an exceptional man who is disagreeable, we call him an Instrument of +Providence. + +It is not, then, in anything exceptional that we are interested in +the operations of Murad Ault, but simply on account of his fortuitous +connection with a great fortune which had its origin in very much the +same cyclonic conditions that Mr. Ault reveled in. Those who know Wall +Street best, by reason of sad experience, say that the presiding deity +there is not the Chinese god, Luck, but the awful pagan deity, Nemesis. +Alas! how many innocent persons suffer in order to get justice done in +this world. + +Those who have unimpaired memories may recollect the fortune amassed, +many years previous to this history, by one Rodney Henderson, gathered +and enlarged by means not indictable, but which illustrate the wide +divergence between the criminal code and the moral law. This fortune, +upon the sudden death of its creator, had been largely diverted from +its charitable destination by fraud, by a crime that would have fallen +within the code if it had been known. This fortune had been enjoyed by +those who seized it for many years of great social success, rising into +acknowledged respectability and distinction; and had become the basis of +the chance of social elevation, which is dear to the hearts of so many +excellent people, who are compelled to wander about in a chaotic society +that has no hereditary titles. It was this fortune, the stake in such an +ambition, or perhaps destined in a new possessor to a nobler one, that +came in the way of Mr. Ault's extensive schemes. + +It is not necessary to infer that Mr. Ault was originally actuated by +any greed as to this special accumulation of property, or that he had +any malevolence towards Mr. Mavick; but the eagerness of his personal +pursuit led him into collisions. There were certain possessions of Mr. +Mavick that were desirable for the rounding-out of his plans--these +graspings were many of them understood by the public as necessary to the +“development of a system”--and in this collision of interests and fierce +strength a vindictive feeling was engendered, a feeling born, as has +been hinted, by Mr. Mavick's attempt to trick his temporary ally in a +certain operation, so that Mr. Ault's main purpose was to “down Mavick.” + This was no doubt an exaggeration concerning a man with so many domestic +virtues as Mr. Ault, meaning by domestic virtues indulgence of his +family; but a fight for place or property in politics or in the Street +is pretty certain to take on a personal character. + +We can understand now why Mr. Ault read the accounts of the Mavick ball +with a grim smile. In speaking of it he used the vulgar term “splurge,” + a word especially offensive to the refined society in which the Mavicks +had gained a foothold. And yet the word was on the lips of a great many +men on the Street. The shifting application of sympathy is a very queer +thing in this world. Mr. Ault was not a snob. Whatever else he was, he +made few pretensions. In his first advent he had been resisted as an +intruder and shunned as a vulgarian; but in time respect for his force +and luck mingled with fear of his reckless talent, and in the course of +events it began to be admitted that the rough diamond was being polished +into one of the corner-stones of the great business edifice. At the time +of this writing he did not altogether lack the sympathy of the Street, +and an increasing number of people were not sorry to see Mr. Mavick get +the worst of it in repeated trials of strength. And in each of these +trials it became increasingly difficult for Mr. Mavick to obtain the +assistance and the credit which are often indispensable to the strongest +men in a panic. + +The truth was that there were many men in the Street who were not sorry +to see Mr. Mavick worried. They remembered perfectly well the omniscient +snobbishness of Thomas Mavick when he held a position in the State +Department at Washington and was at the same time a secret agent of +Rodney Henderson. They did not change their opinion of him when, by his +alliance with Mrs. Henderson, he stepped into control of Mr. Henderson's +property and obtained the mission to Rome; but later on he had been +accepted as one of the powers in the financial world. There were a few +of the old stagers who never trusted him. Uncle Jerry Hollowell, for +instance, used to say, “Mavick is smart, smart as lightnin'; I guess +he'll make ducks and drakes of the Henderson property.” They are very +superficial observers of Wall Street who think that character does not +tell there. Mr. Mavick may have realized that when in his straits he +looked around for assistance. + +The history of this panic summer in New York would not be worthy the +reader's attention were not the fortunes of some of his acquaintances +involved in it. It was not more intense than the usual panics, but it +lasted longer on account of the complications with uncertain government +policy, and it produced stagnation in social as well as business +circles. So quiet a place as Rivervale felt it in the diminution of city +visitors, and the great resorts showed it in increased civility to the +small number of guests. + +The summer at Newport, which had not been distinguished by many great +events, was drawing to a close--that is, it was in the period when those +who really loved the charming promenade which is so loved of the sea +began to enjoy themselves, and those who indulge in the pleasures of +hope, based upon a comfortable matrimonial establishment, are reckoning +up the results of the campaign. + +Mrs. Mavick, according to her own assertion, was one of those who enjoy +nature. “Nature and a few friends, not too many, only those whom one +trusts and who are companionable,” she had said to Lord Montague. + +This young gentleman had found the pursuit of courtship in America +attended by a good many incidental social luxuries. It had been a wise +policy to impress him with the charm of a society which has unlimited +millions to make it attractive. Even to an impecunious noble there is +a charm in this, although the society itself has some of the lingering +conditions of its money origin. But since the great display of the +ball, and the legitimate inferences drawn from it by the press and the +fashionable world, Mrs. Mavick had endeavored to surround her intended +son-in-law with the toils of domestic peace. + +He must be made to feel at home. And this she did. Mrs. Mavick was as +admirable in the role of a domestic woman as of a woman of the world. +The simple pleasures, the confidences, the intimacies of home life +surrounded him. His own mother, the aged duchess, could not have looked +upon him with more affection, and possibly not have pampered him with +so many luxuries. There was only one thing wanting to make this home +complete. In conventional Europe the contracting parties are not the +signers of the marriage contract. In the United States the parties most +interested take the initiative in making the contract. + +Here lay the difficulty of the situation, a situation that puzzled Lord +Montague and enraged Mrs. Mavick. Evelyn maintained as much indifference +to the domestic as to the worldly situation. Her mother thought her +lifeless and insensible; she even went so far as to call her unwomanly +in her indifference to what any other woman would regard as an +opportunity for a brilliant career. + +Lifeless indeed she was, poor child; physically languid and scarcely +able to drag herself through the daily demands upon her strength. +Her mother made it a reproach that she was so pale and unresponsive. +Apparently she did not resist, she did everything she was told to do. +She passed, indeed, hours with Lord Montague, occasions contrived when +she was left alone in the house with him, and she made heroic efforts to +be interested, to find something in his mind that was in sympathy with +her own thoughts. With a woman's ready instinct she avoided committing +herself to his renewed proposals, sometimes covert, sometimes direct, +but the struggle tired her. At the end of all such interviews she had +to meet her mother, who, with a smile of hope and encouragement, always +said, “Well, I suppose you and Lord Montague have made it up,” and then +to encounter the contempt expressed for her as a “goose.” + +She was helpless in such toils. At times she felt actually abandoned of +any human aid, and in moods of despondency almost resolved to give up +the struggle. In the eyes of the world it was a good match, it would +make her mother happy, no doubt her father also; and was it not her duty +to put aside her repugnance, and go with the current of the social and +family forces that seemed irresistible? + +Few people can resist doing what is universally expected of them. This +invisible pressure is more difficult to stand against than individual +tyranny. There are no tragedies in our modern life so pathetic as the +ossification of women's hearts when love is crushed under the compulsion +of social and caste requirements. Everybody expected that Evelyn would +accept Lord Montague. It could be said that for her own reputation the +situation required this consummation of the intimacy of the season. And +the mother did not hesitate to put this interpretation upon the events +which were her own creation. + +But with such a character as Evelyn, who was a constant puzzle to her +mother, this argument had very little weight compared with her own +sense of duty to her parents. Her somewhat ideal education made worldly +advantages of little force in her mind, and love the one priceless +possession of a woman's heart which could not be bartered. And yet might +there not be an element of selfishness in this--might not its sacrifice +be a family duty? Mrs. Mavick having found this weak spot in her +daughter's armor, played upon it with all her sweet persuasive skill and +show of tenderness. + +“Of course, dear,” she said, “you know what would make me happy. But +I do not want you to yield to my selfishness or even to your father's +ambition to see his only child in an exalted position in life. I can +bear the disappointment. I have had to bear many. But it is your own +happiness I am thinking of. And I think also of the cruel blow your +refusal will inflict upon a man whose heart is bound up in you.” + +“But I don't love him.” The girl was very pale, and she spoke with an +air of weariness, but still with a sort of dogged persistence. + +“You will in time. A young girl never knows her own heart, any more than +she knows the world.” + +“Mother, that isn't all. It would be a sin to him to pretend to give him +a heart that was not his. I can't; I can't.” + +“My dear child, that is his affair. He is willing to trust you, and to +win your love. When we act from a sense of duty the way is apt to open +to us. I have never told you of my own earlier experience. I was not +so young as you are when I married Mr. Henderson, but I had not been +without the fancies and experiences of a young girl. I might have +yielded to one of them but for family reasons. My father had lost his +fortune and had died, disappointed and broken down. My mother, a lovely +woman, was not strong, was not capable of fighting the world alone, +and she depended upon me, for in those days I had plenty of courage and +spirit. Mr. Henderson was a widower whom we had known as a friend before +the death of his accomplished wife. In his lonesomeness he turned to me. +In our friendlessness I turned to him. Did I love him? I esteemed him, +I respected him, I trusted him, that was all. He did not ask more than +that. And what a happy life we had! I shared in all his great plans. And +when in the midst of his career, with such large ideas of public service +and philanthropy, he was stricken down, he left to me, in the confidence +of his love, all that fortune which is some day to be yours.” Mrs. +Mavick put her handkerchief to her eyes. “Ah, well, our destiny is not +in our hands. Heaven raised up for me another protector, another friend. +Perhaps some of my youthful illusions have vanished, but should I have +been happier if I had indulged them? I know your dear father does not +think so.” + +“Mother,” cried Evelyn, deeply moved by this unprecedented confidence, +“I cannot bear to see you suffer on my account. But must not every one +decide for herself what is right before God?” + +At this inopportune appeal to a higher power Mrs. Mavick had some +difficulty in restraining her surprise and indignation at what she +considered her child's stubbornness. But she conquered the inclination, +and simply looked sad and appealing when she said: + +“Yes, yes, you must decide for yourself. You must not consider your +mother as I did mine.” + +This cruel remark cut the girl to the heart. The world seemed to whirl +around her, right and wrong and duty in a confused maze. Was she, then, +such a monster of ingratitude? She half rose to throw herself at her +mother's feet, upon her mother's mercy. And at the moment it was not +her reason but her heart that saved her. In the moral confusion rose the +image of Philip. Suppose she should gain the whole world and lose +him! And it was love, simple, trusting love, that put courage into her +sinking heart. + +“Mother, it is very hard. I love you; I could die for you. I am so +forlorn. But I cannot, I dare not, do such a thing, such a dreadful +thing!” + +She spoke brokenly, excitedly, she shuddered as she said the last words, +and her eyes were full of tears as she bent down and kissed her mother. + +When she had gone, Mrs. Mavick sat long in her chair, motionless between +bewilderment and rage. In her heart she was saying, “The obstinate, +foolish girl must be brought to reason!” + +A servant entered with a telegram. Mrs. Mavick took it, and held it +listlessly while the servant waited. “You can sign.” After the door +closed--she was still thinking of Evelyn--she waited a moment before she +tore the envelope, and with no eagerness unfolded the official yellow +paper. And then she read: + + “I have made an assignment. T. M.” + +A half-hour afterwards when a maid entered the room she found Mrs. +Mavick still seated in the armchair, her hands powerless at her side, +her eyes staring into space, her face haggard and old. + + + + +XXV + +The action of Thomas Mavick in giving up the fight was as unexpected +in New York as it was in Newport. It was a shock even to those familiar +with the Street. It was known that he was in trouble, but he had been in +trouble before. It was known that there had been sacrifices, efforts at +extension, efforts at compromise, but the general public fancied that +the Mavick fortune had a core too solid to be washed away by any storm. +Only a very few people knew--such old hands as Uncle Jerry Hollowell, +and such inquisitive bandits as Murad Ault--that the house of Mavick +was a house of cards, and that it might go down when the belief was +destroyed that it was of granite. + +The failure was not an ordinary sensation, and, according to the +excellent practices and differing humors of the daily newspapers, it was +made the most of, until the time came for the heavy weeklies to handle +it in its moral aspects as an illustration of modern civilization. +On the first morning there was substantial unanimity in assuming the +totality of the disaster, and the most ingenious artists in headlines +vied with each other in startling effects: “Crash in Wall Street.” + “Mavick Runs Up the White Flag.” “King of Wall Street Called Down.” + “Ault Takes the Pot.” “Dangerous to Dukes.” “Mavick Bankrupt.” “The +House of Mavick a Ruin.” “Dukes and Drakes.” “The Sea Goes Over Him.” + +This, however, was only the beginning. The sensation must be prolonged. +The next day there were attenuating circumstances. + +It might be only a temporary embarrassment. The assets were vastly +greater than the liabilities. There was talk in financial circles of an +adjustment. With time the house could go on. The next day it was made +a reproach to the house that such deceptive hopes were put upon the +public. Journalistic enterprise had discovered that the extent of the +liabilities had been concealed. This attempt to deceive the public, +these defenders of the public interest would expose. The next day +the wind blew from another direction. The alarmists were rebuked. The +creditors were disposed to be lenient. Doubtful securities were likely +to realize more than was expected. The assignees were sharply scored for +not taking the newspapers into their confidence. + +And so for ten days the failure went on in the newspapers, backward and +forward, now hopeless, now relieved, now sunk in endless complications, +and fallen into the hands of the lawyers who could be trusted with the +most equitable distribution of the property involved, until the reading +public were glad to turn, with the same eager zest, to the case of the +actress who was found dead in a hotel in Jersey City. She was attended +only by her pet poodle, in whose collar was embedded a jewel of great +price. This jewel was traced to a New York establishment, whence it had +disappeared under circumstances that pointed to the criminality of a +scion of a well-known family--an exposure which would shake society to +its foundations. + +Meantime affairs took their usual course. The downfall of Mavick is too +well known in the Street to need explanation here. For a time it was +hoped that sacrifices of great interests would leave a modest little +fortune, but under the pressure of liquidation these hopes melted away. +If anything could be saved it would be only comparatively valueless +securities and embarrassed bits of property that usually are only +a delusion and a source of infinite worry to a bankrupt. It seemed +incredible that such a vast fortune should so disappear; but there were +wise men who, so they declared, had always predicted this disaster. For +some years after Henderson's death the fortune had appeared to expand +marvelously. It was, however, expanded, and not solidified. It had been +risked in many gigantic speculations (such as the Argentine), and it had +been liable to collapse at any time if its central credit was doubted. +Mavick's combinations were splendidly conceived, but he lacked the power +of coordination. And great as were his admitted abilities, he had never +inspired confidence. + +“And, besides,” said Uncle Jerry, philosophizing about it in his homely +way, “there's that little devil of a Carmen, the most fascinating woman +I ever knew--it would take the Bank of England to run her. Why, when +I see that Golden House going up, I said I'd give 'em five years to +balloon in it. I was mistaken. They've floated it about eighteen. Some +folks are lucky--up to a certain point.” + +Grave history gives but a paragraph to a personal celebrity of this +sort. When a ship goes down in a tempest off the New England coast, +there is a brief period of public shock and sympathy, and then the world +passes on to other accidents and pleasures; but for months relics of the +great vessel float ashore on lonely headlands or are cast up on sandy +beaches, and for years, in many a home made forlorn by the shipwreck, +are aching hearts and an ever-present calamity. + +The disaster of the house of Mavick was not accepted without a struggle, +lasting long after the public interest in the spectacle had abated--a +struggle to save the ship and then to pick up some debris from the +great wreck. The most pathetic sight in the business world is that of a +bankrupt, old and broken, pursuing with always deluded expectations the +remnants of his fortune, striving to make new combinations, involved in +lawsuits, alternately despairing, alternately hopeful in the chaos of +his affairs. This was the fate of Thomas Mavick. + +The news was all over Newport in a few hours after it had stricken down +Mrs. Mavick. The newspaper details the morning after were read with that +eager interest that the misfortunes of neighbors always excite. After +her first stupor, Mrs. Mavick refused to believe it. It could not be, +and her spirit of resistance rose with the frantic messages she sent to +her husband. Alas, the cold fact of the assignment remained. Still +her courage was not quite beaten down. The suspension could only be +temporary. She would not have it otherwise. Two days she showed herself +as usual in Newport, and carried herself bravely. The sympathy looked or +expressed was wormwood to her, but she met it with a reassuring smile. +To be sure it was very hard to bear such a blow, the result of a +stock intrigue, but it would soon pass over--it was a temporary +embarrassment--that she said everywhere. + +She had not, however, told the news to Evelyn with any such smiling +confidence. There was still rage in her heart against her daughter, as +if her obstinacy had some connection with this blow of fate, and she +did not soften the announcement. She expected to sting her, and she did +astonish and she did grieve her, for the breaking-up of her world could +not do otherwise; but it was for her mother and not for herself that +Evelyn showed emotion. If their fortune was gone, then the obstacle +was removed that separated her from Philip. The world well lost! This +flashed through her mind before she had fairly grasped the extent of the +fatality, and it blunted her appreciation of it as an unmixed ruin. + +“Poor mamma!” was what she said. + +“Poor me!” cried Mrs. Mavick, looking with amazement at her daughter, +“don't you understand that our life is all ruined?” + +“Yes, that part of it, but we are left. It might have been so much +worse.” + +“Worse? You have no more feeling than a chip. You are a beggar! That is +all. What do you mean by worse?” + +“If father had done anything dishonorable!” suggested the girl, timidly, +a little scared by her mother's outburst. + +“Evelyn, you are a fool!” + +And perhaps she was, with such preposterous notions of what is really +valuable in life. There could be no doubt of it from Mrs. Mavick's point +of view. + +If Evelyn's conduct exasperated her, the non-appearance of Lord Montague +after the publication of the news seriously alarmed her. No doubt he was +shocked, but she could explain it to him, and perhaps he was too much +interested in Evelyn to be thrown off by this misfortune. The third day +she wrote him a note, a familiar, almost affectionate note, chiding him +for deserting them in their trouble. She assured him that the news was +greatly exaggerated, the embarrassment was only temporary, such things +were always happening in the Street. “You know,” she said, playfully, +“it is our American way to be up in a minute when we seem to be down.” + She asked him to call, for she had something that was important to tell +him, and, besides, she needed his counsel as a friend of the house. The +note was despatched by a messenger. + +In an hour it was returned, unopened, with a verbal message from his +host, saying that Lord Montague had received important news from London, +and that he had left town the day before. + +“Coward!” muttered the enraged woman, with closed teeth. “Men are all +cowards, put them to the test.” + +The energetic woman judged from a too narrow basis. Because Mavick was +weak--and she had always secretly despised him for yielding to her--weak +as compared with her own indomitable spirit, she generalized wildly. Her +opinion of men would have been modified if she had come in contact with +Murad Ault. + +To one man in New York besides Mr. Ault the failure did not seem a +personal calamity. When Philip saw in the steamer departures the name of +Lord Montague, his spirits rose in spite of the thought that the heiress +was no longer an heiress. The sky lifted, there was a promise of fair +weather, the storm, for him, had indeed cleared the air. + +“Dear Philip,” wrote Miss McDonald, “it is really dreadful news, but I +cannot be so very downhearted. It is the least of calamities that could +happen to my dear child. Didn't I tell you that it is always darkest +just before the dawn?” + +And Philip needed the hope of the dawn. Trial is good for any one, but +hopeless suffering for none. Philip had not been without hope, but it +was a visionary indulgence, against all evidence. It was the hope of +youth, not of reason. He stuck to his business doggedly, he stuck to his +writing doggedly, but over all his mind was a cloud, an oppression not +favorable to creative effort--that is, creative effort sweet and not +cynical, sunny and not morbid. + +And yet, who shall say that this very experience, this oppression of +circumstance, was not the thing needed for the development of the best +that was in him? Thrown back upon himself and denied an airy soaring in +the heights of a prosperous fancy, he had come to know himself and his +limitations. And in the year he had learned a great deal about his art. +For one thing he had come to the ground. He was looking more at life +as it is. His experience at the publishers had taught him one important +truth, and that is that a big subject does not make a big writer, that +all that any mind can contribute to the general thought of the world in +literature is what is in itself, and if there is nothing in himself it +is vain for the writer to go far afield for a theme. He had seen the +young artists, fretting for want of subjects, wandering the world over +in search of an object fitted to their genius, setting up their easels +in front of the marvels of nature and of art, in the expectation that +genius would descend upon them. + +If they could find something big enough to paint! And he had seen, +in exhibition after exhibition, that the artist who cannot paint a +rail-fence cannot paint a pyramid. A man does not become a good rider by +mounting an elephant; ten to one a donkey would suit him better. Philip +had begun to see that the life around him had elements enough of the +comic and the tragic to give full play to all his powers. + +He began to observe human beings as he had never done before. There +were only two questions, and they are at the bottom of all creative +literature--could he see them, could he make others see them? + +This was all as true before the Mavick failure as after; but, before, +what was the use of effort? Now there was every inducement to effort. +Ambition to succeed had taken on him the hold of necessity. And with a +free mind as to the obstacles that lay between him and the realization +of the great dream of his life, the winning of the one woman who could +make his life complete, Philip set to work with an earnestness and a +clearness of vision that had never been given him before. + +In the wreck of the Mavick estate, in its distribution, there are one or +two things of interest to the general reader. One of these was the fate +of the Golden House, as it was called. Mrs. Mavick had hurried back to +her town house, determined to save it at all hazard. The impossibility +of this was, however, soon apparent even to her intrepid spirit. She +would either sacrifice all else to save it, or--dark thoughts of ending +it in a conflagration entered her mind. This was only her first temper. +But to keep the house without a vast fortune to sustain it was an +impossibility, and, as it was the most conspicuous of Mavick's visible +possessions, perhaps the surrender of it, which she could not prevent, +would save certain odds and ends here and there. Whether she liked it or +not, the woman learned for once that her will had little to do with the +course of events. + +Its destination was gall and wormwood both to Carmen and her husband. +For it fell into the hands of Murad Ault. He coveted it as the most +striking symbol of the position he had conquered in the metropolis. Its +semi-barbaric splendor appealed also to his passion for display. And it +was notable that the taste of the rude lad of poverty--this uncultivated +offspring of a wandering gypsy and herb--collector--perhaps she had +ancient and noble blood in her veins--should be the same for material +ostentation and luxury as that of the cultivated, fastidious Mavick and +his worldly-minded wife. So persistent is the instinct of barbarism in +our modern civilization. + +When Ault told his wife what he had done, that sweet, domestic, and +sensible woman was very far from being elated. + +“I am almost sorry,” she said. + +“Sorry for what?” asked Mr. Ault, gently, but greatly surprised. + +“For the Mavicks. I don't mean for Mrs. Mavick--I hear she is a worldly +and revengeful woman--but for the girl. It must be dreadful to turn her +out of all the surroundings of her happy life. And I hear she is as good +as she is lovely. Think what it would be for our own girls.” + +“But it can't be helped,” said Ault, persuasively. “The house had to +be sold, and it makes no difference who has it, so far as the girl is +concerned.” + +“And don't you fear a little for our own girls, launching out that way?” + +“You are afraid they will get lost in that big house?” And Mr. Ault +laughed. “It isn't a bit too big or too good for them. At any rate, +my dear, in they go, and you must get ready to move. The house will be +empty in a week.” + +“Murad,” and Mrs. Ault spoke as if she were not thinking of the change +for herself, “there is one thing I wish you would do for me, dear.” + +“What is that?” + +“Go to Mr. Mavick, or to Mrs. Mavick, or the assignees or whoever, and +have the daughter--yes, and her mother--free to take away anything they +want, anything dear to them by long association. Will you?” + +“I don't see how. Mavick wouldn't do it for us, and I guess he is too +proud to accept anything from me. I don't owe him anything. And then +the property is in the assignment. Whatever is there I bought with the +house.” + +“I should be so much happier if you could do something about it.” + +“Well, it don't matter much. I guess the assignees can make Mrs. Mavick +believe easy enough that certain things belong to her. But I would not +do it for any other living being but you.” + +“By-the-way,” he added, “there is another bit of property that I didn't +take, the Newport palace.” + +“I should have dreaded that more than the other.” + +“So I thought. And I have another plan. It's long been in my mind, and +we will carry it out next summer. There is a little plateau on the side +of the East Mountain in Rivervale, where there used to stand a shack of +a cabin, with a wild sort of garden-patch about it, a tumble-down root +fence, all in the midst of brush and briers. Lord, what a habitation it +was! But such a view--rivers, mountains, meadows, and orchards in the +distance! That is where I lived with my mother. What a life! I hated +everything, everybody but her.” + +Mr. Ault paused, his strong, dark face working with passion, as the +memory of his outlawed boyhood revived. Is it possible that this pirate +of the Street had a bit of sentiment at the bottom of his heart? After a +moment he continued: + +“That was the spot to which my mother took me when I was knee-high. I've +bought it, bought the whole hillside. Next summer we will put up a +house there, not a very big house, just a long, low sort of a Moorish +pavilion, the architect calls it. I wish she could see it.” + +Mrs. Ault rose, with tears in her gentle eyes, stood by her husband's +chair a moment, ran her fingers through his heavy black locks, bent down +and kissed him, and went away without a word. + +There was another bit of property that was not included in the wreck. +It belonged to Mrs. Mavick. This was a little house in Irving Place, +in which Carmen Eschelle lived with her mother, in the days before the +death of Henderson's first wife, not very happy days for that wife. +Carmen had a fancy for keeping it after her marriage. Not from any +sentiment, she told Mr. Mavick on the occasion of her second marriage, +oh, no, but somehow it seemed to her, in all her vast possessions left +to her by Henderson, the only real estate she had. It was the only thing +that had not passed into the absolute possession and control of Mavick. +The great town house, with all the rest, stood in Mavick's name. What +secret influence had he over her that made her submit to such a foolish +surrender? + +It was in this little house that the reduced family stowed itself after +the downfall. The little house, had it been sentient, would have been +astonished at the entrance into it of the furniture and the remnants +of luxurious living that Mrs. Mavick was persuaded belonged to her +personally. These reminders of former days were, after all, a mockery +in the narrow quarters and the pinched economy of the bankrupt. Yet +they were, for a time useful in preserving to Mrs. Mavick a measure of +self-respect, her self-respect having always been based upon what she +had and not what she was. In truth, the change of lot was harder for +Mrs. Mavick than for Evelyn, since the world in which the latter lived +had not been destroyed. She still had her books, she still had a great +love in her heart, and hope, almost now a sure hope, that her love would +blossom into a great happiness. + +But where was Philip? In all this time why did he make no sign? At +moments a great fear came over her. She was so ignorant of life. Could +he know what misery she was in, the daily witness of her father's broken +condition, of her mother's uncertain temper? + + + + +XXVI + +Is justice done in this world only by a succession of injustices? Is +there any law that a wrong must right a wrong? Did it rebuke the means +by which the vast fortune of Henderson was accumulated, that it was +defeated of any good use by the fraud of his wife? Was her action +punished by the same unscrupulous tactics of the Street that originally +made the fortune? And Ault? Would a stronger pirate arise in time to +despoil him, and so act as the Nemesis of all violation of the law of +honest relations between men? + +The comfort is, in all this struggle of the evil powers, masked as +justice, that the Almighty Ruler of the world does not forget his own, +and shows them a smiling face in the midst of disaster. There is no +mystery in this. For the noble part in man cannot be touched in its +integrity by such vulgar disasters as we are considering. In those days +when Evelyn saw dissolving about her the material splendors of her old +life, while the Golden House was being dismantled, and she was taking +sad leave of the scenes of her girlhood, so vivid with memory of +affection and of intellectual activity, they seemed only the shell, the +casting-off of which gave her freedom. The sun never shone brighter, +there was never such singing in her heart, as on the morning when she +was free to go to Mrs. Van Cortlandt's and throw herself into the arms +of her dear governess and talk of Philip. + +Why not? Perhaps she had not that kind of maidenly shyness, sometimes +called conventional propriety, sometimes described as 'mauvaise honte' +which a woman of the world would have shown. The impulses of her heart +followed as direct lines as the reasoning of her brain. Was it due to +her peculiar education, education only in the noblest ideas of the race, +that she should be a sort of reversion, in our complicated life, to the +type of woman in the old societies (we like to believe there was such a +type as the poets love, the Nausicaas), who were single-minded, as frank +to avow affection as opinion? + +“Have you seen him?” she asked. + +“No, but he has written.” + +“And you think he--” the girl had her arms around her friend's +neck again, and concealed her blushing face, “don't make me say it, +McDonald.” + +“Yes, dear, I am sure--I know he does.” + +There was a little quiver in her form, but it was not of agony; then +she put her hands on the shoulders of her governess, and, looking in her +eyes, said: + +“When you did see him, how did he look--how did he look?--pretty sad?” + +“How could he help it?” + +“The dear! But was he well?” + +“Splendidly, so he said. Like his old self.” + +“Tell me,” said the girl. + +And Miss McDonald went into delightful details, how he looked, how he +walked, how his voice sounded, how he talked, how melancholy he was, and +how full of determination he was, his eyes were so kindly, and his smile +was never so sweet as now when there was sadness in it. + +“It is very long since,” drearily murmured the girl. And then she +continued, partly to herself, partly to Miss McDonald: “He will come +now, can't he? Not to that house. Never would I wish him to set foot +in it. But he is not forbidden to come to the place where we are going. +Soon, you think? Perhaps you might hint--oh no, not from me--just your +idea. Wouldn't it be natural, after our misfortune? Perhaps mamma would +feel differently after what has happened. Oh, that Montague! that horrid +little man! I think--I think I shall receive him coolly at first, just +to see.” + +But it was not immediately that the chance for a guileless woman to show +her coolness to her lover was to occur. This postponement was not due to +the coolness or to the good sense of Philip. When the catastrophe came, +his first impulse was that of a fireman who plunges into a burning +building to rescue the imperiled inmates. He pictured in his mind a +certain nobility of action in going forward to the unfortunate family +with his sympathy, and appearing to them in the heroic attitude of a +man whose love has no alloy of self-interest. They should speedily +understand that it was not the heiress, but the woman, with whom he was +in love. + +But Miss McDonald understood human nature better than that, at least +the nature of Mrs. Mavick. People of her temperament, humiliated and +enraged, are best left alone. The fierceness with which she would have +turned upon any of her society friends who should have presumed to offer +her condolence, however sweetly the condescension were concealed, would +have been vented without mercy upon the man whose presence would have +reminded her of her foolish rudeness to him, and of the bitter failure +of her schemes for her daughter. “Wait, wait,” said the good counselor, +“until the turmoil has subsided, and the hard pressure of circumstances +compels her to look at things in their natural relations. She is too +sore now in--the wreck of all her hopes.” + +But, indeed, her hopes were not all surrendered in a moment. She had +more spirit than her husband in their calamity. She was, in fact, a born +gambler; she had the qualities of her temperament, and would not believe +that courage and luck could not retrieve, at least partially, their +fortune. It seemed incredible in the Street that the widow of Henderson +should have given over her property so completely to her second husband, +and it was a surprise to find that there was very little of value that +the assignment of Mavick did not carry with it. The Street did not know +the guilty secret between Mavick and his wife that made them cowards to +each other. Nor did it understand that Carmen was the more venturesome +gambler of the two, and that gradually, for the success of promising +schemes, she had thrown one thing after another into the common +speculation, until practically all the property stood in Mavick's +name. Was she a fool in this, as so many women are about their separate +property, or was she cheated? + +The palace on Fifth Avenue was not even in her name. When she realized +that, there was a scene--but this is not a history of the quarrels of +Carmen and her husband after the break-down. + +The reader would not be interested--the public of the time were not--in +the adjustment of Mavick and his wife to their new conditions. The +broken-down, defeated bankrupt is no novelty in Wall Street, the man +struggling to keep his foothold in the business of the Street, and +descending lower and lower in the scale. The shrewd curbstone broker +may climb to a seat in the Stock Exchange; quite as often a lord of the +Board, a commander of millions, may be reduced to the seedy watcher of +the bulletin-board in a bucket-shop. + +At first, in the excitement and the confusion, amid the debris of +so much possible wealth, Mavick kept a sort of position, and did not +immediately feel the pinch of vulgar poverty. But the day came when all +illusion vanished, and it was a question of providing from day to day +for the small requirements of the house in Irving Place. + +It was not a cheerful household; reproaches are hard to bear when +physical energy is wanting to resist them. Mavick had visibly aged +during the year. It was only in his office that he maintained anything +of the spruce appearance and 'sang froid' which had distinguished the +diplomatist and the young adventurer. At home he had fallen into the +slovenliness that marks a disappointed old age. Was Mrs. Mavick peevish +and unreasonable? Very likely. And had she not reason to be? Was she, +as a woman, any more likely to be reconciled to her fate when her mirror +told her, with pitiless reflection, that she was an old woman? + +Philip waited. Under the circumstances would not both Philip and Evelyn +have been justified in disregarding the prohibition that forbade their +meeting or even writing to each other? It may be a nice question, but it +did not seem so to these two, who did not juggle with their consciences. +Philip had given his word. Evelyn would tolerate no concealments; she +was just that simple-minded in her filial notions. + +The girl, however, had one comfort, and that was the knowledge of Philip +through Miss McDonald, whom she saw frequently, and to whom even Mrs. +Mavick was in a manner reconciled. She was often in the little house in +Irving Place. There was nothing in her manner to remind Mrs. Mavick that +she had done her a great wrong, and her cheerfulness and good sense made +her presence and talk a relief from the monotony of the defeated woman's +life. + +It came about, therefore, that one day Philip made his way down into +the city to seek an interview with Mr. Mavick. He found him, after some +inquiry, in a barren little office, occupying one of the rented desks +with three or four habitues of the Street, one of them an old man like +himself, the others mere lads who did not intend to remain long in such +cramped quarters. + +Mr. Mavick arose when his visitor stood at his desk, buttoned up his +frock-coat, and extended his hand with a show of business cordiality, +and motioned him to a chair. Philip was greatly shocked at the change in +Mr. Mavick's appearance. + +“I beg your pardon,” he said, “for disturbing you in business hours.” + +“No disturbance,” he answered, with something of the old cynical smile +on his lips. + +“Long ago I called to see you on the errand I have now, but you were not +in town. It was, Mr. Mavick,” and Philip hesitated and looked down, “in +regard to your daughter.” + +“Ah, I did not hear of it.” + +“No? Well, Mr. Mavick, I was pretty presumptuous, for I had no foothold +in the city, except a law clerkship.” + +“I remember--Hunt, Sharp & Tweedle; why didn't you keep it?” + +“I wasn't fitted for the law.” + +“Oh, literature? Does literature pay?” + +“Not in itself, not for many,” and Philip forced a laugh. “But it led to +a situation in a first-rate publishing house--an apprenticeship that +has now given me a position that seems to be permanent, with prospects +beyond, and a very fair salary. It would not seem much to you, Mr. +Mavick,” and Philip tried to laugh again. + +“I don't know,” replied Mr. Mavick. “If a fellow has any sort of salary +these times, I should advise him to hold on to it. By-the-way, Mr. +Burnett, Hunt's a Republican, isn't he?” + +“He was,” replied Philip, “the last I knew.” + +“Do you happen to know whether he knows Bilbrick, the present +Collector?” + +“Mr. Bilbrick used to be a client of his.” + +“Just so. I think I'll see Hunt. A salary isn't a bad thing for a--for a +man who has retired pretty much from business. But you were saying, Mr. +Burnett?” + +“I was going to say, Mr. Mavick, that there was a little something +more than my salary that I can count on pretty regularly now from the +magazines, and I have had another story, a novel, accepted, and--you +won't think me vain--the publisher says it will go; if it doesn't have a +big sale he will--” + +“Make it up to you?” + +“Not exactly,” and Philip laughed; “he will be greatly mistaken.” + +“I suppose it is a kind of lottery, like most things. The publishers +have to take risks. The only harm I wish them is that they were +compelled to read all the stuff they try to make us read. Ah, well. Mr. +Burnett, I hope you have made a hit. It is pretty much the same thing +in our business. The publisher bulls his own book and bears the other +fellow's. Is it a New York story?” + +“Partly; things come to a focus here, you know.” + +“I could give you points. It's a devil of a place. I guess the novelists +are too near to see the romance of it. When I was in Rome I amused +myself by diving into the mediaeval records. Steel and poison were the +weapons then. We have a different method now, but it comes to the +same thing, and we say we are more civilized. I think our way is more +devilishly dramatic than the old brute fashion. Yes, I could give you +points.” + +“I should be greatly obliged,” said Philip, seeing the way to bring +the conversation back to its starting point; “your wide experience of +life--if you had leisure at home some time.” + +“Oh,” replied Mavick, with more good-humor in his laugh than he had +shown before, “you needn't beat about the bush. Have you seen Evelyn?” + +“No, not since that dinner at the Van Cortlandts'.” + +“Huh! for myself, I should be pleased to see you any time, Mr. Burnett. +Mrs. Mavick hasn't felt like seeing anybody lately. But I'll see, I'll +see.” + +The two men rose and shook hands, as men shake hands when they have an +understanding. + +“I'm glad you are doing well,” Mr. Mavick added; “your life is before +you, mine is behind me; that makes a heap of difference.” + +Within a few days Philip received a note from Mrs. Mavick--not an +effusive note, not an explanatory note, not an apologetic note, simply +a note as if nothing unusual had happened--if Mr. Burnett had leisure, +would he drop in at five o'clock in Irving Place for a cup of tea? + +Not one minute by his watch after the hour named, Philip rang the bell +and was shown into a little parlor at the front. There was only +one person in the room, a lady in exquisite toilet, who rose rather +languidly to meet him, exactly as if the visitor were accustomed to drop +in to tea at that hour. + +Philip hesitated a moment near the door, embarrassed by a mortifying +recollection of his last interview with Mrs. Mavick, and in that moment +he saw her face. Heavens, what a change! And yet it was a smiling face. + +There is a portrait of Carmen by a foreign artist, who was years ago +the temporary fashion in New York, painted the year after her second +marriage and her return from Rome, which excited much comment at the +time. Philip had seen it in more than one portrait exhibition. + +Its technical excellence was considerable. The artist had evidently +intended to represent a woman piquant and fascinating, if not strictly +beautiful. Many persons said it was lovely. Other critics said that, +whether the artist intended it or not, he had revealed the real +character of the subject. There was something sinister in its beauty. +One artist, who was out of fashion as an idealist, said, of course +privately, that the more he looked at it the more hideous it became to +him--like one of Blake's objective portraits of a “soul”--the naked +soul of an evil woman showing through the mask of all her feminine +fascinations--the possible hell, so he put it, under a woman's charm. + +It was this in the portrait that Philip saw in the face smiling a +welcome--like an old, sweetly smiling Lalage--from which had passed away +youth and the sustaining consciousness of wealth and of a place in the +great world. The smile was no longer sweet, though the words from the +lips were honeyed. + +“It is very good of you to drop in in this way, Mr. Burnett,” she said, +as she gave him her hand. “It is very quiet down here.” + +“It is to me the pleasantest part of the city.” + +“You think so now. I thought so once,” and there was a note of sadness +in her voice. “But it isn't New York. It is a place for the people who +are left.” + +“But it has associations.” + +“Yes, I know. We pretend that it is more aristocratic. That means the +rents are lower. It is a place for youth to begin and for age to end. +We seem to go round in a circle. Mr. Mavick began in the service of the +government, now he has entered it again--ah, you did not know?--a place +in the Custom-House. He says it is easier to collect other people's +revenues than your own. Do you know, Mr. Burnett, I do not see much +use in collecting revenues anyway--so far as New York is concerned the +people get little good of them. Look out there at that cloud of dust in +the street.” + +Mrs. Mavick rambled on in the whimsical, cynical fashion of old ladies +when they cease to have any active responsibility in life and become +spectators of it. Their remaining enjoyment is the indulgence of frank +speech. + +“But I thought,” Philip interrupted, “that this part of the town was +specially New York.” + +“New York!” cried Carmen, with animation. “The New York of the +newspapers, of the country imagination; the New York as it is known in +Paris is in Wall Street and in the palaces up-town. Who are the kings of +Wall Street, and who build the palaces up-town? They say that there are +no Athenians in Athens, and no Romans in Rome. How many New-Yorkers +are there in New York? Do New-Yorkers control the capital, rule +the politics, build the palaces, direct the newspapers, furnish the +entertainment, manufacture the literature, set the pace in society? Even +the socialists and mobocrats are not native. Successive invaders, as in +Rome, overrun and occupy the town. + +“No, Mr. Burnett, I have left the existing New York. How queer it is +to think about it. My first husband was from New Hampshire. My second +husband was from Illinois. And there is your Murad Ault. The Lord knows +where he came from. + +“Talk about the barbarians occupying Rome! Look at that Ault in a +palace! Who was that emperor--Caligula?--I am like the young lady from +a finishing-school who said she never could remember which came first in +history, Greece or Rome--who stabled his horses with stalls and mangers +of gold? The Aults stable themselves that way. Ah, me! Let me give you a +cup of tea. Even that is English.” + +“It's an innocent pastime,” she continued, as Philip stirred his tea, +in perplexity as to how he should begin to say what he had to say--“you +won't object if I light a cigarette? One ought to retain at least one +bad habit to keep from spiritual pride. Tea is an excuse for this. I +don't think it a bad habit, though some people say that civilization is +only exchanging one bad habit for another. Everything changes.” + +“I don't think I have changed, Mrs. Mavick,” said Philip, with +earnestness. + +“No? But you will. I have known lots of people who said they never would +change. They all did. No, you need not protest. I believe in you now, or +I should not be drinking tea with you. But you must be tired of an +old woman's gossip. Evelyn has gone out for a walk; she didn't know. I +expect her any minute. Ah, I think that is her ring. I will let her in. +There is nothing so hateful as a surprise.” + +She turned and gave Philip her hand, and perhaps she was sincere--she +had a habit of being so when it suited her interests--when she said, +“There are no bygones, my friend.” + +Philip waited, his heart beating a hundred to the minute. He heard +greetings and whisperings in the passage-way, and then--time seemed to +stand still--the door opened and Evelyn stood on the threshold, radiant +from her walk, her face flushed, the dainty little figure poised in +timid expectation, in maidenly hesitation, and then she stepped forward +to meet his advance, with welcome in her great eyes, and gave him her +hand in the old-fashioned frankness. + +“I am so glad to see you.” + +Philip murmured something in reply and they were seated. + +That was all. It was so different from the meeting as Philip had a +hundred times imagined it. + +“It has been very long,” said Philip, who was devouring the girl with +his eyes, “very long to me.” + +“I thought you had been very busy,” she replied, demurely. Her composure +was very irritating. + +“If you thought about it at all, Miss Mavick.” + +“That is not like you, Mr. Burnett,” Evelyn replied, looking up suddenly +with troubled eyes. + +“I didn't mean that,” said Philip, moving uneasily in his chair, “I--so +many things have happened. You know a person can be busy and not happy.” + +“I know that. I was not always happy,” said the girl, with the air +of making a confession. “But I liked to hear from time to time of +the success of my friends,” she added, ingenuously. And then, quite +inconsequently, “I suppose you have news from Rivervale?” + +Yes, Philip heard often from Alice, and he told the news as well as he +could, and the talk drifted along--how strange it seemed!--about things +in which neither of them felt any interest at the moment. Was there no +way to break the barrier that the little brown girl had thrown around +herself? Were all women, then, alike in parrying and fencing? The talk +went on, friendly enough at last, about a thousand things. It might have +been any afternoon call on a dear friend. And at length Philip rose to +go. + +“I hope I may see you again, soon.” + +“Of course,” said Evelyn, cheerfully. “I am sure father will be +delighted to see you. He enjoys so little now.” + +He had taken both her hands to say good-by, and was looking hungrily +into her eyes. + +“I can't go so. Evelyn, you know, you must know, I love you.” + +And before the girl comprehended him he had drawn her to him and pressed +his lips upon hers. + +The girl started back as if stung, and looked at him with flashing eyes. + +“What have you done, what have you done to me?” + +Her eyes were clouded, and she put her hands to her face, trembling, and +then with a cry, as of a soul born into the world, threw herself upon +him, her arms around his neck--“Philip, Philip, my Philip!” + + + +XXVII + +Perhaps Philip's announcement of his good-fortune to Alice and to +Celia was not very coherent, but his meaning was plain. Perhaps he +was conscious that the tidings would not increase the cheerfulness of +Celia's single-handed struggle for the ideal life; at least, he would +rather write than tell her face to face. + +However he put the matter to her, with what protestations of +affectionate friendship and trust he wrapped up the statement that he +made as matter of fact as possible, he could not conceal the ecstatic +state of his mind. + +Nothing like it certainly had happened to anybody in the world before. +All the dream of his boyhood, romantic and rose-colored, all the +aspirations of his manhood, for recognition, honor, a place in the life +of his time, were mere illusions compared to this wonderful crown of +life--a woman's love. Where did it come from into this miserable world, +this heavenly ray, this pure gift out of the divine beneficence, this +spotless flower in a humanity so astray, this sure prophecy of the final +redemption of the world? The immeasurable love of a good woman! And to +him! Philip felt humble in his exaltation, charitable in his selfish +appropriation. He wanted to write to Celia--but he did not--that he +loved her more than ever. But to Alice he could pour out his wealth of +affection, quickened to all the world by this great love, for he knew +that her happiness would be in his happiness. + +The response from Alice was what he expected, tender, sweet, domestic, +and it was full of praise of Evelyn, of love for her. “Perhaps, dear +Phil,” she wrote, “I shall love her more than I do you. I almost +think--did I not remember what a bad boy you could be sometimes--that +each one of you is too good for the other. But, Phil, if you should ever +come to think that she is not too good for you, you will not be good +enough for her. I can't think she is perfect, any more than you are +perfect--you will find that she is just a woman--but there is nothing +in all life so precious as such a heart as hers. You will come here, +of course, and at once, whenever it is. You know that big, square, +old-fashioned corner chamber, with the high-poster. That is yours. +Evelyn never saw it. The morning and the evening sun shoot across it, +and the front windows look on the great green crown of Mount Peak. You +know it. There is not such a place in the world to hear the low and +peaceful murmur of the river, all night long, rushing, tumbling, +crooning, I used to think when I was a little girl and dreamed of things +unseen, and still going on when the birds begin to sing in the dawn. And +with Evelyn! Dear Phil!” + +It was in another strain, but not less full of real affection, that +Celia wrote: + +“I am not going to congratulate you. You are long past the need of that. +But you know that I am happy in having you happy. You thought I never +saw anything? I wonder if men are as blind as they seem to be? And I +had fears. Do you know a man ought to build his own monument. If he goes +into a monument built for him, that is the end of him. Now you can work, +and you will. I am so glad she isn't an heiress any more. I guess there +was a curse on that fortune. But she has eluded it. I believe all you +tell me about her. Perhaps there are more such women in the world than +you think. Some day I shall know her, and soon. I do long to see her. +Love her I feel sure I shall. + +“You ask about myself. I am the same, but things change. When I get +my medical diploma I shall decide what to do. My little property just +suffices, with economy, and I enjoy economy. I doubt if I do any general +practice for pay. There are so many young doctors that need the money +for practice more than I do. And perhaps taking it up as a living would +make me sort of hard and perfunctory. And there is so much to do in this +great New York among the unfortunate that a woman who knows medicine can +do better than any one else. + +“Ah, me, I am happy in a way, or I expect to be. Everybody--it isn't +because I am a woman I say this--needs something to lean on now and +then. There isn't much to lean on in the college, nor in many of my +zealous and ambitious companions there. There is more faith in the poor +people down in the wards where I go. They are kind to each other, and +most of them, not all, believe in something. They, have that, at +any rate, in all their trials and poverty. Philip, don't despise the +invisible. I have got into the habit of going into a Catholic church +down there, when I am tired and discouraged, and getting the peace of +it. It is a sort of open door! You need not jump to the conclusion that +I am 'going over.' Maybe I am going back. I don't know. I have always +you know, been looking for something. + +“I like to sit there in that dim quiet and think of things I can't think +of elsewhere. Do you think I am queer? Philip, all women are queer. They +haven't yet been explained. That is the reason why the novelists find +it next to impossible, with all the materials at hand, to make a good +woman--that is a woman. Do you know what it is to want what you don't +want? Longing is one thing and reason another. + +“Perhaps I have depended too much on my reason. If you long to go to a +place where you will have peace, why should you let what you call your +reason stand in the way? Perhaps your reason is foolishness. You will +laugh a little at this, and say that I am tired. No. Only I am not so +sure of things as I used to be. Do you remember when we children used +to sit under that tree by the Deerfield, how confident I was that I +understood all about life, and my airs of superiority? + +“Well, I don't know as much now. But there is one thing that has +survived and grown with the years, and that, Philip, is your dear +friendship.” + +What was it in this unassuming, but no doubt sufficiently conceited and +ambitious, young fellow that he should have the affection, the love, of +three such women? + +Is affection as whimsically, as blindly distributed as wealth? It is the +experience of life that it is rare to keep either to the end, but as a +man is judged not so much by his ability to make money as to keep it, so +it is fair to estimate his qualities by his power to retain friendship. +New York is full of failures, bankrupts in fortune and bankrupts in +affection, but this melancholy aspect of the town is on the surface, and +is not to be considered in comparison with the great body of moderately +contented, moderately successful, and on the whole happy households. In +this it is a microcosm of the world. + +To Evelyn and Philip, judging the world a good deal by each other, in +those months before their marriage, when surprising perfection and new +tenderness were daily developed, the gay and busy city seemed a sort of +paradise. + +Mysterious things were going on in the weeks immediately preceding the +wedding. There was a conspiracy between Miss McDonald and Philip in +the furnishing and setting in order a tiny apartment on the Heights, +overlooking the city, the lordly Hudson, and its romantic hills. And +when, after the ceremony, on a radiant afternoon in early June, the +wedded lovers went to their new home, it was the housekeeper, the old +governess, who opened the door and took into her arms the child she had +loved and lost awhile. + +This fragment of history leaves Philip Burnett on the threshold of his +career. Those who know him only by his books may have been interested +in his experiences, in the merciful interposition of disaster, before he +came into the great fortune of the love of Evelyn Mavick. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of That Fortune, by Charles Dudley Warner + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THAT FORTUNE *** + +***** This file should be named 3105-0.txt or 3105-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/0/3105/ + +Produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/3105-0.zip b/3105-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0ef81fe --- /dev/null +++ b/3105-0.zip diff --git a/3105-h.zip b/3105-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b8ca5f3 --- /dev/null +++ b/3105-h.zip diff --git a/3105-h/3105-h.htm b/3105-h/3105-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9dc3a1d --- /dev/null +++ b/3105-h/3105-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11072 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + That Fortune, by Charles Dudley Warner + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of That Fortune, by Charles Dudley Warner + +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: That Fortune + +Author: Charles Dudley Warner + +Release Date: August 20, 2016 [EBook #3105] +Last Updated: February 24, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THAT FORTUNE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1> + THAT FORTUNE + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Charles Dudley Warner + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> XXVI </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + On a summer day, long gone among the summer days that come but to go, a + lad of twelve years was idly and recklessly swinging in the top of a tall + hickory, the advance picket of a mountain forest. The tree was on the edge + of a steep declivity of rocky pasture-land that fell rapidly down to the + stately chestnuts, to the orchard, to the cornfields in the narrow valley, + and the maples on the bank of the amber river, whose loud, unceasing + murmur came to the lad on his aerial perch like the voice of some + tradition of nature that he could not understand. + </p> + <p> + He had climbed to the topmost branch of the lithe and tough tree in order + to take the full swing of this free creature in its sport with the western + wind. There was something exhilarating in this elemental battle of the + forces that urge and the forces that resist, and the harder the wind blew, + and the wider circles he took in the free air, the more stirred the boy + was in the spring of his life. Nature was taking him by the hand, and it + might be that in that moment ambition was born to achieve for himself, to + conquer. + </p> + <p> + If you had asked him why he was there, he would very likely have said, “To + see the world.” It was a world worth seeing. The prospect might be limited + to a dull eye, but not to this lad, who loved to climb this height, in + order to be with himself and indulge the dreams of youth. Any pretense + would suffice for taking this hour of freedom: to hunt for the spicy + checker-berries and the pungent sassafras; to aggravate the woodchucks, + who made their homes in mysterious passages in this gravelly hillside; to + get a nosegay of columbine for the girl who spelled against him in school + and was his gentle comrade morning and evening along the river road where + grew the sweet-flag and the snap-dragon and the barberry bush; to make + friends with the elegant gray squirrel and the lively red squirrel and the + comical chipmunk, who were not much afraid of this unarmed naturalist. + They may have recognized their kinship to him, for he could climb like any + squirrel, and not one of them could have clung more securely to this bough + where he was swinging, rejoicing in the strength of his lithe, compact + little body. When he shouted in pure enjoyment of life, they chattered in + reply, and eyed him with a primeval curiosity that had no fear in it. This + lad in short trousers, torn shirt, and a frayed straw hat above his mobile + and cheerful face, might be only another sort of animal, a lover like + themselves of the beech-nut and the hickory-nut. + </p> + <p> + It was a gay world up here among the tossing branches. Across the river, + on the first terrace of the hill, were weather-beaten farmhouses, amid + apple orchards and cornfields. Above these rose the wooded dome of Mount + Peak, a thousand feet above the river, and beyond that to the left the + road wound up, through the scriptural land of Bozrah, to high and lonesome + towns on a plateau stretching to unknown regions in the south. There was + no bar to the imagination in that direction. What a gracious valley, what + graceful slopes, what a mass of color bathing this lovely summer + landscape! Down from the west, through hills that crowded on either side + to divert it from its course, ran the sparkling Deerfield, from among the + springs and trout streams of the Hoosac, merrily going on to the great + Connecticut. Along the stream was the ancient highway, or lowway, where in + days before the railway came the stage-coach and the big transport-wagons + used to sway and rattle along on their adventurous voyage from the gate of + the Sea at Boston to the gate of the West at Albany. + </p> + <p> + Below, where the river spread wide among the rocks in shallows, or eddies + in deep, dark pools, was the ancient, long, covered, wooden bridge, + striding diagonally from rock to rock on stone columns, a dusky tunnel + through the air, a passage of gloom flecked with glints of sunlight, that + struggled in crosscurrents through the interstices of the boards, and set + dancing the motes and the dust in a golden haze, a stuffy passage with + odors a century old—who does not know the pungent smell of an old + bridge?—a structure that groaned in all its big timbers when a wagon + invaded it. And then below the bridge the lad could see the historic + meadow, which was a cornfield in the eighteenth century, where Captain + Moses Rice and Phineas Arms came suddenly one summer day to the end of + their planting and hoeing. The house at the foot of the hill where the boy + was cultivating his imagination had been built by Captain Rice, and in the + family burying-ground in the orchard above it lay the body of this mighty + militia-man, and beside him that of Phineas Arms, and on the headstone of + each the legend familiar at that period of our national life, “Killed by + the Indians.” Happy Phineas Arms, at the age of seventeen to exchange in a + moment the tedium of the cornfield for immortality. + </p> + <p> + There was a tradition that years after, when the Indians had disappeared + through a gradual process of intoxication and pauperism, a red man had + been seen skulking along the brow of this very hill and peering down + through the bushes where the boy was now perched on a tree, shaking his + fist at the hated civilization, and vengefully, some said pathetically, + looking down into this valley where his race had been so happy in the + natural pursuits of fishing, hunting, and war. On the opposite side of the + river was still to be traced an Indian trail, running to the western + mountains, which the boy intended some time to follow; for this highway of + warlike forays, of messengers of defiance, along which white maidens had + been led captive to Canada, appealed greatly to his imagination. + </p> + <p> + The boy lived in these traditions quite as much as in those of the + Revolutionary War into which they invariably glided in his perspective of + history, the redskins and the redcoats being both enemies of his + ancestors. There was the grave of the envied Phineas Arms—that + ancient boy not much older than he—and there were hanging in the + kitchen the musket and powder-horn that his great-grandfather had carried + at Bunker Hill, and did he not know by heart the story of his + great-grandmother, who used to tell his father that she heard when she was + a slip of a girl in Plymouth the cannonading on that awful day when Gage + met his victorious defeat? + </p> + <p> + In fact, according to his history-book there had been little but wars in + this peaceful nation: the War of 1812, the Mexican War, the incessant + frontier wars with the Indians, the Kansas War, the Mormon War, the War + for the Union. The echoes of the latter had not yet died away. What a + career he might have had if he had not been born so late in the world! + Swinging in this tree-top, with a vivid consciousness of life, of his own + capacity for action, it seemed a pity that he could not follow the drum + and the flag into such contests as he read about so eagerly. + </p> + <p> + And yet this was only a corner of the boy's imagination. He had many + worlds and he lived in each by turn. There was the world of the Old + Testament, of David and Samson, and of those dim figures in the dawn of + history, called the Patriarchs. There was the world of Julius Caesar and + the Latin grammar, though this was scarcely as real to him as the Old + Testament, which was brought to his notice every Sunday as a necessity of + his life, while Caesar and AEneas and the fourth declension were made to + be a task, for some mysterious reason, a part of his education. He had not + been told that they were really a part of the other world which occupied + his mind so much of the time, the world of the Arabian Nights and Robinson + Crusoe, and Coleridge and Shelley and Longfellow, and Washington Irving + and Scott and Thackeray, and Pope's Iliad and Plutarch's Lives. That this + was a living world to the boy was scarcely his fault, for it must be + confessed that those were very antiquated book-shelves in the old + farmhouse to which he had access, and the news had not been apprehended in + this remote valley that the classics of literature were all as good as + dead and buried, and that the human mind had not really created anything + worth modern notice before about the middle of the nineteenth century. It + was not exactly an ignorant valley, for the daily newspapers were there, + and the monthly magazine, and the fashion-plate of Paris, and the + illuminating sunshine of new science, and enough of the uneasy throb of + modern life. Yet somehow the books that were still books had not been sent + to the garret, to make room for the illustrated papers and the profound + physiological studies of sin and suffering that were produced by touching + a scientific button. No, the boy was conscious in a way of the mighty + pulsation of American life, and he had also a dim notion that his dreams + in his various worlds would come to a brilliant fulfillment when he was + big enough to go out and win a name and fame. But somehow the old books, + and the family life, and the sedate ways of the community he knew, had + given him a fundamental and not unarmed faith in the things that were and + had been. + </p> + <p> + Every Sunday the preacher denounced the glitter and frivolity and + corruption of what he called Society, until the boy longed to see this + splendid panorama of cities and hasting populations, the seekers of + pleasure and money and fame, this gay world which was as fascinating as it + was wicked. The preacher said the world was wicked and vain. It did not + seem so to the boy this summer day, not at least the world he knew. Of + course the boy had no experience. He had never heard of Juvenal nor of Max + Nordau. He had no philosophy of life. He did not even know that when he + became very old the world would seem to him good or bad according to the + degree in which he had become a good or a bad man. + </p> + <p> + In fact, he was not thinking much about being good or being bad, but of + trying his powers in a world which seemed to offer to him infinite + opportunities. His name—Philip Burnett—with which the world, + at least the American world, is now tolerably familiar, and which he liked + to write with ornamental flourishes on the fly-leaves of his schoolbooks, + did not mean much to him, for he had never seen it in print, nor been + confronted with it as something apart from himself. But the Philip that he + was he felt sure would do something in the world. What that something + should be varied from day to day according to the book, the poem, the + history or biography that he was last reading. It would not be difficult + to write a poem like “Thanatopsis” if he took time enough, building up a + line a day. And yet it would be better to be a soldier, a man who could + use the sword as well as the pen, a poet in uniform. This was a pleasing + imagination. Surely his aunt and his cousins in the farmhouse would have + more respect for him if he wore a uniform, and treat him with more + consideration, and perhaps they would be very anxious about him when he + was away in battles, and very proud of him when he came home between + battles, and went quite modestly with the family into the village church, + and felt rather than saw the slight flutter in the pews as he walked down + the aisle, and knew that the young ladies, the girl comrades of the + district school, were watching him from the organ gallery, curious to see + Phil, who had gone into the army. Perhaps the preacher would have a sermon + against war, and the preacher should see how soldierlike he would take + this attack on him. Alas! is such vanity at the bottom of even a + reasonable ambition? Perhaps his town would be proud of him if he were a + lawyer, a Representative in Congress, come back to deliver the annual + oration at the Agricultural Fair. He could see the audience of familiar + faces, and hear the applause at his witty satires and his praise of the + nobility of the farmer's life, and it would be sweet indeed to have the + country people grasp him by the hand and call him Phil, just as they used + to before he was famous. What he would say, he was not thinking of, but + the position he would occupy before the audience. There were no misgivings + in any of these dreams of youth. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + The musings of this dreamer in a tree-top were interrupted by the + peremptory notes of a tin horn from the farmhouse below. The boy + recognized this not only as a signal of declining day and the withdrawal + of the sun behind the mountains, but as a personal and urgent notification + to him that a certain amount of disenchanting drudgery called chores lay + between him and supper and the lamp-illumined pages of The Last of the + Mohicans. It was difficult, even in his own estimation, to continue to be + a hero at the summons of a tin horn—a silver clarion and castle + walls would have been so different—and Phil slid swiftly down from + his perch, envying the squirrels who were under no such bondage of duty. + </p> + <p> + Recalled to the world that now is, the lad hastily gathered a bouquet of + columbine and a bunch of the tender leaves and the red berries of the + wintergreen, called to “Turk,” who had been all these hours watching a + woodchuck hole, and ran down the hill by leaps and circuits as fast as his + little legs could carry him, and, with every appearance of a lad who puts + duty before pleasure, arrived breathless at the kitchen door, where Alice + stood waiting for him. Alice, the somewhat feeble performer on the horn, + who had been watching for the boy with her hand shading her eyes, called + out upon his approach: + </p> + <p> + “Why, Phil, what in the world—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Alice!” cried the boy, eagerly, having in a moment changed in his + mind the destination of the flowers; “I've found a place where the + checker-berries are thick as spatter.” And Phil put the flowers and the + berries in his cousin's hand. Alice looked very much pleased with this + simple tribute, but, as she admired it, unfortunately asked—women + always ask such questions: + </p> + <p> + “And you picked them for me?” + </p> + <p> + This was a cruel dilemma. Phil was more devoted to his sweet cousin than + to any one else in the world, and he didn't want to hurt her feelings, and + he hated to tell a lie. So he only looked a lie, out of his affectionate, + truthful eyes, and said: + </p> + <p> + “I love to bring you flowers. Has uncle come home yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, long ago. He called and looked all around for you to unharness the + horse, and he wanted you to go an errand over the river to Gibson's. I + guess he was put out.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he say anything?” + </p> + <p> + “He asked if you had weeded the beets. And he said that you were the + master boy to dream and moon around he ever saw.” And she added, with a + confidential and mischievous smile: “I think you'd better brought a switch + along; it would save time.” + </p> + <p> + Phil had a great respect for his uncle Maitland, but he feared him almost + more than he feared the remote God of Abraham and Isaac. Mr. Maitland was + not only the most prosperous man in all that region, but the man of the + finest appearance, and a bearing that was equity itself. He was the first + selectman of the town, and a deacon in the church, and however much he + prized mercy in the next world he did not intend to have that quality + interfere with justice in this world. Phil knew indeed that he was a man + of God, that fact was impressed upon him at least twice a day, but he + sometimes used to think it must be a severe God to have that sort of man. + And he didn't like the curt way he pronounced the holy name—he might + as well have called Job “job.” + </p> + <p> + Alice was as unlike her father, except in certain race qualities of + integrity and common-sense, as if she were of different blood. She was the + youngest of five maiden sisters, and had arrived at the mature age of + eighteen. Slender in figure, with a grace that was half shyness, soft + brown hair, gray eyes that changed color and could as easily be sad as + merry, a face marked with a moving dimple that every one said was lovely, + retiring in manner and yet not lacking spirit nor a sly wit of her own. + Now and then, yes, very often, out of some paradise, no doubt, strays into + New England conditions of reticence and self-denial such a sweet spirit, + to diffuse a breath of heaven in its atmosphere, and to wither like a rose + ungathered. These are the New England nuns, not taking any vows, not + self-consciously virtuous, apparently untouched by the vanities of the + world. Marriage? It is not in any girl's nature not to think of that, not + to be in a flutter of pleasure or apprehension at the attentions of the + other sex. Who has been able truly to read the thoughts of a shrinking + maiden in the passing days of her youth and beauty? In this harmonious and + unselfish household, each with decided individual character, no one ever + intruded upon the inner life of the other. No confidences were given in + the deep matters of the heart, no sign except a blush over a sly allusion + to some one who had been “attentive.” If you had stolen a look into the + workbasket or the secret bureau-drawer, you might have found a treasured + note, a bit of ribbon, a rosebud, some token of tenderness or of + friendship that was growing old with the priestess who cherished it. Did + they not love flowers, and pets, and had they not a passion for children? + Were there not moonlight evenings when they sat silent and musing on the + stone steps, watching the shadows and the dancing gleams on the swift + river, when the air was fragrant with the pink and the lilac? Not + melancholy this, nor poignantly sad, but having in it nevertheless + something of the pathos of life unfulfilled. And was there not sometimes, + not yet habitually, coming upon these faces, faces plain and faces + attractive, the shade of renunciation? + </p> + <p> + Phil loved Alice devotedly. She was his confidante, his defender, but he + feared more the disapproval of her sweet eyes when he had done wrong than + the threatened punishment of his uncle. + </p> + <p> + “I only meant to be gone just a little while,” Phil went on to say. + </p> + <p> + “And you were away the whole afternoon. It is a pity the days are so + short. And you don't know what you lost.” + </p> + <p> + “No great, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + “Celia and her mother were here. They stayed all the afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Celia Howard? Did she wonder where I was?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. She didn't say anything about it. What a dear little thing + she is!” + </p> + <p> + “And she can say pretty cutting things.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, can she? Perhaps you'd better run down to the village before dark and + take her these flowers.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not going. I'd rather you should have the flowers.” And Phil spoke + the truth this time. + </p> + <p> + Celia, who was altogether too young to occupy seriously the mind of a lad + of twelve, had nevertheless gained an ascendancy over him because of her + willful, perverse, and sometimes scornful ways, and because she was + different from the other girls of the school. She had read many more books + than Phil, for she had access to a library, and she could tell him much of + a world that he only heard of through books and newspapers, which latter + he had no habit of reading. He liked, therefore, to be with Celia, not + withstanding her little airs of superiority, and if she patronized him, as + she certainly did, probably the simple-minded young gentleman, who was + unconsciously bred in the belief that he and his own kin had no superiors + anywhere, never noticed it. To be sure they quarreled a good deal, but + truth to say Phil was never more fascinated with the little witch, whom he + felt himself strong enough to protect, than when she showed a pretty + temper. He rather liked to be ordered about by the little tyrant. And + sometimes he wished that Murad Ault, the big boy of the school, would be + rude to the small damsel, so that he could show her how a knight would act + under such circumstances. Murad Ault stood to Phil for the satanic element + in his peaceful world. He was not only big and strong of limb and broad of + chest, but he was very swarthy, and had closely curled black hair. He + feared nothing, not even the teacher, and was always doing some dare-devil + thing to frighten the children. And because he was dark, morose, and made + no friends, and wished none, but went solitary his own dark way, Phil + fancied that he must have Spanish blood in his veins, and would no doubt + grow up to be a pirate. No other boy in the winter could skate like Murad + Ault, with such strength and grace and recklessness—thin ice and + thick ice were all one to him, but he skated along, dashing in and out, + and sweeping away up and down the river in a whirl of vigor and daring, + like a black marauder. Yet he was best and most awesome in the swimming + pond in summer—though it was believed that he dared go in in the + bitter winter, either by breaking the ice or through an air-hole, and + there was a story that he had ventured under the ice as fearless as a cold + fish. No one could dive from such a height as he, or stay so long under + water; he liked to stay under long enough to scare the spectators, and + then appear at a distance, thrashing about in the water as if he were + rescuing himself from drowning, sputtering out at the same time the most + diabolical noises—curses, no doubt, for he had been heard to swear. + But as he skated alone he swam alone, appearing and disappearing at the + swimming-place silently, with never a salutation to any one. And he was as + skillful a fisher as he was a swimmer. No one knew much about him. He + lived with his mother in a little cabin up among the hills, that had about + it scant patches of potatoes and corn and beans, a garden fenced in by + stumproots, as ill-cared for as the shanty. Where they came from no one + knew. How they lived was a matter of conjecture, though the mother + gathered herbs and berries and bartered them at the village store, and + Murad occasionally took a hand in some neighbor's hay-field, or got a job + of chopping wood in the winter. The mother was old and small and withered, + and they said evil-eyed. Probably she was no more evil-eyed than any old + woman who had such a hard struggle for existence as she had. An old widow + with an only son who looked like a Spaniard and acted like an imp! Here + was another sort of exotic in the New England life. + </p> + <p> + Celia had been brought to Rivervale by her mother about a year before this + time, and the two occupied a neat little cottage in the village, + distinguished only by its neatness and a plot of syringas, and pinks, and + marigolds, and roses, and bachelor's-buttons, and boxes of the tough + little exotics, called “hen-and-chickens,” in the door-yard, and a + vigorous fragrant honeysuckle over the front porch. She only dimly + remembered her father, who had been a merchant in a small way in the city, + and dying left to his widow and only child a very moderate fortune. The + girl showed early an active and ingenious mind, and an equal love for + books and for having her own way; but she was delicate, and Mrs. Howard + wisely judged that a few years in a country village would improve her + health and broaden her view of life beyond that of cockney provincialism. + For, though Mrs. Howard had more refinement than strength of mind, and + passed generally for a sweet and inoffensive little woman, she did not + lack a certain true perception of values, due doubtless to the fact that + she had been a New England girl, and, before her marriage and emigration + to the great city, had passed her life among unexciting realities, and + among people who had leisure to think out things in a slow way. But the + girl's energy and self-confidence had no doubt been acquired from her + father, who was cut off in mid-career of his struggle for place in the + metropolis, or from some remote ancestor. Before she was eleven years old + her mother had listened with some wonder and more apprehension to the + eager forecast of what this child intended to do when she became a woman, + and already shrank from a vision of Celia on a public platform, or the + leader of some metempsychosis club. Through her affections only was the + child manageable, but in opposition to her spirit her mother was + practically powerless. Indeed, this little sprout of the New Age always + spoke of her to Philip and to the Maitlands as “little mother.” + </p> + <p> + The epithet seemed peculiarly tender to Philip, who had lost his father + before he was six years old, and he was more attracted to the timid and + gentle little widow than to his equable but more robust Aunt Eusebia, Mrs. + Maitland, his father's elder sister, whom Philip fancied not a bit like + his father except in sincerity, a quality common to the Maitlands and + Burnetts. Yet there was a family likeness between his aunt and a portrait + of his father, painted by a Boston artist of some celebrity, which his + mother, who survived her husband only three years, had saved for her boy. + His father was a farmer, but a man of considerable cultivation, though not + college-bred—his last request on his death-bed was that Phil should + be sent to college—a man who made experiments in improving + agriculture and the breed of cattle and horses, read papers now and then + on topics of social and political reform, and was the only farmer in all + the hill towns who had what might be called a library. + </p> + <p> + It was all scattered at the time of the winding up of the farm estate, and + the only jetsam that Philip inherited out of it was an annotated copy of + Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations, Young's Travels in France, a copy of The + Newcomes, and the first American edition of Childe Harold. Probably these + odd volumes had not been considered worth any considerable bid at the + auction. From his mother, who was fond of books, and had on more than one + occasion, of the failure of teachers, taught in the village school in her + native town before her marriage, Philip inherited his love of poetry, and + he well remembered how she used to try to inspire him with patriotism by + reading the orations of Daniel Webster (she was very fond of orations), + and telling him war stories about Grant and Sherman and Sheridan and + Farragut and Lincoln. He distinctly remembered also standing at her knees + and trying, at intervals, to commit to memory the Rime of the Ancient + Mariner. He had learned it all since, because he thought it would please + his mother, and because there was something in it that appealed to his + coming sense of the mystery of life. When he repeated it to Celia, who had + never heard of it, and remarked that it was all made up, and that she + never tried to learn a long thing like that that wasn't so, Philip could + see that her respect for him increased a little. He did not know that the + child got it out of the library the next day and never rested till she + knew it by heart. Philip could repeat also the books of the Bible in + order, just as glibly as the multiplication-table, and the little minx, + who could not brook that a country boy should be superior to her in + anything, had surprised her mother by rattling them all off to her one + Sunday evening, just as if she had been born in New England instead of in + New York. As to the other fine things his mother read him, out of Ruskin + and the like; Philip chiefly remembered what a pretty glow there was in + his mother's face when she read them, and that recollection was a valuable + part of the boy's education. + </p> + <p> + Another valuable part of his education was the gracious influence in his + aunt's household, the spirit of candor, of affection, and the sane + common-sense with which life was regarded, the simplicity of its faith and + the patience with which trials were borne. The lessons he learned in it + had more practical influence in his life than all the books he read. Nor + were his opportunities for the study of character so meagre as the limit + of one family would imply. As often happens in New England households, + individualities were very marked, and from his stern uncle and his placid + aunt down to the sweet and nimble-witted Alice, the family had developed + traits and even eccentricities enough to make it a sort of microcosm of + life. There, for instance, was Patience, the maiden aunt, his father's + sister, the news-monger of the fireside, whose powers of ratiocination + first gave Philip the Greek idea and method of reasoning to a point and + arriving at truth by the process of exclusion. It did not excite his + wonder at the time, but afterwards it appeared to him as one of the New + England eccentricities of which the novelists make so much. Patience was a + home-keeping body and rarely left the premises except to go to church on + Sunday, although her cheerfulness and social helpfulness were tinged by + nothing morbid. The story was—Philip learned it long afterwards—that + in her very young and frisky days Patience had one evening remained out at + some merry-making very late, and in fact had been escorted home in the + moonlight by a young gentleman when the tall, awful-faced clock, whose + face her mother was watching, was on the dreadful stroke of eleven. For + this delinquency her mother had reproved her, the girl thought + unreasonably, and she had quickly replied, “Mother, I will never go out + again.” And she never did. It was in fact a renunciation of the world, + made apparently without rage, and adhered to with cheerful obstinacy. + </p> + <p> + But although for many years Patience rarely left her home, until the habit + of seclusion had become as fixed as that of a nun who had taken the vows, + no one knew so well as she the news and gossip of the neighborhood, and + her power of learning or divining it seemed to increase with her years. + She had a habit of sitting, when her household duties permitted, at a + front window, which commanded a long view of the river road, and gathering + the news by a process peculiar to herself. From this peep-hole she studied + the character and destination of all the passers-by that came within range + of her vision, and made her comments and deductions, partly to herself, + but for the benefit of those who might be listening. + </p> + <p> + “Why, there goes Thomas Henry,” she would say (she always called people by + their first and middle names). “Now, wherever can he be going this morning + in the very midst of getting in his hay? He can't be going to the Browns' + for vegetables, for they set great store by their own raising this year; + and they don't get their provisions up this way either, because Mary Ellen + quarreled with Simmons's people last year. No!” she would exclaim, rising + to a climax of certainty on this point, “I'll be bound he is not going + after anything in the eating line!” + </p> + <p> + Meantime Thomas Henry's wagon would be disappearing slowly up the sandy + road, giving Patience a chance to get all she could out of it, by + eliminating all the errands Thomas Henry could not possibly be going to do + in order to arrive at the one he must certainly be bound on. + </p> + <p> + “They do say he's courting Eliza Merritt,” she continued, “but Eliza never + was a girl to make any man leave his haying. No, he's never going to see + Eliza, and if it isn't provisions or love it's nothing short of sickness. + Now, whoever is sick down there? It can't be Mary Ellen, because she takes + after her father's family and they are all hearty. It must be Mary Ellen's + little girls, and the measles are going the rounds. It must be they've all + got the measles.” + </p> + <p> + If the listeners suggested that possibly one of the little girls might + have escaped, the suggestion was decisively put aside. + </p> + <p> + “No; if one of them had been well, Mary Ellen would have sent her for the + doctor.” + </p> + <p> + Presently Thomas Henry's cart was heard rumbling back, and sure enough he + was returning with the doctor, and Patience hailed him from the gate and + demanded news of Mary Ellen. + </p> + <p> + “Why, all her little girls have the measles,” replied Thomas Henry, “and I + had to leave my haying to fetch the doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to know,” said Patience. + </p> + <p> + Being the eldest born, Patience had appropriated to herself two rooms in + the rambling old farmhouse before her brother's marriage, from which later + comers had never dislodged her, and with that innate respect for the + rights and peculiarities of others which was common in the household, she + was left to express her secluded life in her own way. As the habit of + retirement grew upon her she created a world of her own, almost as curious + and more individually striking than the museum of Cluny. There was not a + square foot in her tiny apartment that did not exhibit her handiwork. She + was very fond of reading, and had a passion for the little prints and + engravings of “foreign views,” which she wove into her realm of natural + history. There was no flower or leaf or fruit that she had seen that she + could not imitate exactly in wax or paper. All over the walls hung the + little prints and engravings, framed in wreaths of moss and artificial + flowers, or in elaborate square frames made of pasteboard. The pasteboard + was cut out to fit the picture, and the margins, daubed with paste, were + then strewn with seeds of corn and acorns and hazelnuts, and then the + whole was gilded so that the effect was almost as rich as it was novel. + All about the rooms, in nooks and on tables, stood baskets and dishes of + fruit-apples and plums and peaches and grapes-set in proper foliage of + most natural appearance, like enough to deceive a bird or the + Sunday-school scholars, when on rare occasions they were admitted into + this holy of holies. Out of boxes, apparently filled with earth in the + corners of the rooms, grew what seemed to be vines trained to run all + about the cornices and to festoon the pictures, but which were really + strings, colored in imitation of the real vine, and spreading out into + paper foliage. To complete the naturalistic character of these everlasting + vines, which no scale-bugs could assail, there were bunches of wonderful + grapes depending here and there to excite the cupidity of both bird and + child. There was no cruelty in the nature of Patience, and she made + prisoners of neither birds nor squirrels, but cunning cages here and there + held most lifelike counterfeits of their willing captives. There was + nothing in the room that was alive, except the dainty owner, but it seemed + to be a museum of natural history. The rugs on the floor were of her own + devising and sewing together, and rivaled in color and ingenuity those of + Bokhara. + </p> + <p> + But Patience was a student of the heavens as well as of the earth, and it + was upon the ceiling that her imagination expanded. There one could see in + their order the constellations of the heavens, represented by paper-gilt + stars, of all magnitudes, most wonderful to behold. This part of her + decorations was the most difficult of all. The constellations were not + made from any geography of the heavens, but from actual nightly + observation of the positions of the heavenly bodies. Patience confessed + that the getting exactly right of the Great Dipper had caused her most + trouble. On the night that was constructed she sat up till three o'clock + in the morning, going out and studying it and coming in and putting up one + star at a time. How could she reach the high ceiling? Oh, she took a + bean-pole, stuck the gilt star on the end of it, having paste on the + reverse side, and fixed it in its place. That was easy, only it was + difficult to remember when she came into the house the correct positions + of the stars in the heavens. What the astronomer and the botanist and the + naturalist would have said of this little kingdom is unknown, but Patience + herself lived among the glories of the heavens and the beauties of the + earth which she had created. Probably she may have had a humorous + conception of this, for she was not lacking in a sense of humor. The stone + step that led to her private door she had skillfully painted with faint + brown spots, so that when visitors made their exit from this part of the + house they would say, “Why, it rains!” but Patience would laugh and say, + “I guess it is over by now.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + “I'm not going to follow you about any more through the brush and + brambles, Phil Burnett,” and Celia, emerging from the thicket into a + clearing, flung herself down on a knoll under a beech-tree. + </p> + <p> + Celia was cross. They were out for a Saturday holiday on the hillside, + where Phil said there were oceans of raspberries and blueberries, + beginning to get ripe, and where you could hear the partridges drumming in + the woods, and see the squirrels. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I'm not a bit tired,” said Phil; “a boy wouldn't be.” And he threw + himself down on the green moss, with his heels in the air, much more + intent on the chatter of a gray squirrel in the tree above him than on the + complaints of his comrade. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you go with a boy, then?” asked Celia, in a tone intended to be + severe and dignified. + </p> + <p> + “A boy isn't so nice,” said Philip, with the air of stating a general + proposition, but not looking at her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Celia, only half appeased, “I quite agree with you.” And she + pulled down some beech leaves from a low, hanging limb and began to plait + a wreath. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you making that for?” asked Philip, who began to be aware that a + cloud had come over his holiday sky. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody in particular; it's just a wreath.” And then there was silence, + till Philip made another attempt. + </p> + <p> + “Celia, I don't mind staying here if you are tired. Tell me something + about New York City. I wish we were there.” + </p> + <p> + “Much you know about it,” said Celia, but with some relaxation of her + severity, for as she looked at the boy in his country clothes and glanced + at her own old frock and abraded shoes, she thought what a funny + appearance the pair would make on a fashionable city street. + </p> + <p> + “Would you rather be there?” asked Philip. “I thought you liked living + here.” + </p> + <p> + “Would I rather? What a question! Everybody would. The country is a good + place to go to when you are tired, as mamma is. But the city! The big fine + houses, and the people all going about in a hurry; the streets all lighted + up at night, so that you can see miles and miles of lights; and the horses + and carriages, and the lovely dresses, and the churches full of nice + people, and such beautiful music! And once mamma took me to the theatre. + Oh, Phil, you ought to see a play, and the actors, all be-a-u-ti-fully + dressed, and talking just like a party in a house, and dancing, and being + funny, and some of it so sad as to make you cry, and some of it so droll + that you had to laugh—just such a world as you read of in books and + in poetry. I was so excited that I saw the stage all night and could + hardly sleep.” The girl paused and looked away to the river as if she saw + it all again, and then added in a burst of confidence: + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, I mean to be an actress some day, when mamma will let me.” + </p> + <p> + “Play-actors are wicked,” said Phil, in a tone of decision; “our minister + says so, and my uncle says so.” + </p> + <p> + “Fudge!” returned Celia. “Much they know about it. Did Alice say so?” + </p> + <p> + “I never asked her, but she said once that she supposed it was wrong, but + she would like to see a play.” + </p> + <p> + “There, everybody would. Mamma says the people from the country go to the + theatre always, a good deal more than the people in the city go. I should + like to see your aunt Patience in a theatre and hear what she said about + it. She's an actress if ever there was one.” + </p> + <p> + Philip opened his eyes in protest. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma says it is as good as a play to hear her go on about people, and + what they are like, and what they are going to do, and then her little + rooms are just like a scene on a stage. If they were in New York everybody + would go to see them and to hear her talk.” + </p> + <p> + This was such a new view of his home life to Philip that he could neither + combat it nor assent to it, further than to say, that his aunt was just + like everybody else, though she did have some peculiar ways. + </p> + <p> + “Well, she acts,” Celia insisted, “and most people act. Our minister acts + all the time, mamma says.” Celia had plenty of opinions of her own, but + when she ventured a startling statement she had the habit of going under + the shelter of “little mother,” whose casual and unconsidered remarks the + girl turned to her own uses. Perhaps she would not have understood that + her mother merely meant that the minister's sacerdotal character was not + exactly his own character. Just as Philip noticed without being able to + explain it that his uncle was one sort of a man in his religious exercises + and observances and another sort of man in his dealings with him. Children + often have recondite thoughts that do not get expression until their minds + are more mature; they even accept contradictory facts in their experience. + There was one of the deacons who was as kind as possible, and Philip + believed was a good and pious man, who had the reputation of being sharp + and even tricky in a horse-trade. And Philip used to think how lucky it + was for him that he had been converted and was saved! + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to stay here always?” asked Philip, pursuing his own train + of thought about the city. + </p> + <p> + “Here? I should think not. If I were a boy I wouldn't stay here, I can + tell you. What are you going to do, Phil, what are you going to be?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know,” said Philip, turning over on his back and looking up + into the blue world through the leaves; “go to college, I suppose.” + Children are even more reticent than adults about revealing their inner + lives, and Philip would not, even to Celia, have confessed the splendid + dreams about his career that came to him that day in the hickory-tree, and + that occupied him a great deal. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said this wise child, “but that's nothing. I mean, what are + you going to do? My cousin Jim has been all through college, and he + doesn't do a thing except wear nice clothes and hang around and talk. He + says I'm a little chatter-box. I hate the sight of him.” + </p> + <p> + “If he doesn't like you, then I don't like him,” said Philip, as if he + were making a general and not a personal assertion. “Oh, I should like to + travel.” + </p> + <p> + “So should I, and see things and find things. Jim says he's going to be an + explorer. He never will. He wouldn't find anything. He twits me, and wants + to know what is the good of my reading about Africa and such things. Phil, + don't you love to read about Africa, and the desert, and the lions and the + snakes, and bananas growing, and palm-trees, and the queerest black men + and women, real dwarfs some of them? I just love it.” + </p> + <p> + “So do I,” said Philip, “as far as I have read. Alice says it's awful + dangerous—fevers and wild beasts and savages and all that. But I + shouldn't mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you wouldn't. But it costs like everything to go to Africa, or + anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd make a book about it, and give lectures, and make lots of money.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess,” said Celia, reflecting upon this proposition, “I'd be an + engineer or a railroad man, or something like that, and make a heap of + money, and then I could go anywhere I liked. I just hate to be poor. + There!” + </p> + <p> + “Is Jim poor?” + </p> + <p> + “No; he can do what he pleases. I asked him, then, why he didn't go to + Africa, and he wanted to know what was the good of finding Livingstone, + anyway. I'll bet Murad Ault would go to Africa.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish he would,” said Philip; and then, having moved so that he could + see Celia's face, “Do you like Murad Ault?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Celia, promptly; “he's horrid, but he isn't afraid of + anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't care,” said Philip, who was nettled by this implication. + And Celia, who had shown her power of irritating, took another tack. + </p> + <p> + “You don't think I'd be seen going around with him? Aren't we having a + good time up here?” + </p> + <p> + “Bully!” replied Philip. And not seeing the way to expand this topic any + further, he suddenly said: + </p> + <p> + “Celia, the next time I go on our hill I'll get you lots of sassafras.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I love sassafras, and sweet-flag!” + </p> + <p> + “We can get that on the way home. I know a place.” And then there was a + pause. “Celia, you didn't tell me what you are going to do when you grow + up.” + </p> + <p> + “Go to college.” + </p> + <p> + “You? Why, girls do, don't they? I never thought of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course they do. I don't know whether I'll write or be a doctor. I know + one thing—I won't teach school. It's the hatefulest thing there is! + It's nice to be a doctor and have your own horse, and go round like a man. + If it wasn't for seeing so many sick people! I guess I'll write stories + and things.” + </p> + <p> + “So would I,” Philip confessed, “if I knew any.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you make 'em up. Mamma says they are all made up. I can make 'em in + my head any time when I'm alone.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” Philip said, reflectively, “but I could make up a story + about Murad Ault, and how he got to be a pirate and got in jail and was + hanged.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that wouldn't be a real story. You have got to have different people + in it, and have 'em talk, just as they do in books; and somebody is in + love and somebody dies, and the like of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there are such stories in The Pirate's Own Book, and it's awful + interesting.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd be ashamed, Philip Burnett, to read such a cruel thing, all about + robbers and murders.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't read it through; Alice said she was going to burn it up. I + shouldn't wonder if she did.” + </p> + <p> + “Boys make me tired!” exclaimed this little piece of presumption; and this + attitude of superiority exasperated Philip more than anything else his + mentor had said or done, and he asserted his years of seniority by jumping + up and saying, decidedly, “It's time to go home. Shall I carry your + wreath?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I thank you!” replied Celia, with frigid politeness. + </p> + <p> + “Down in the meadow,” said Philip, making one more effort at conciliation, + “we can get some tigerlilies, and weave them in and make a beautiful + wreath for your mother.” + </p> + <p> + “She doesn't like things fussed up,” was the gracious reply. And then the + children trudged along homeward, each with a distinct sense of injury. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + Traits that make a child disagreeable are apt to be perpetuated in the + adult. The bumptious, impudent, selfish, “hateful” boy may become a man of + force, of learning, of decided capacity, even of polish and good manners, + and score success, so that those who know him say how remarkable it is + that such a “knurly” lad should have turned out so well. But some exigency + in his career, it may be extraordinary prosperity or bitter defeat, may at + any moment reveal the radical traits of the boy, the original ignoble + nature. The world says that it is a “throwing back”; it is probably only a + persistence of the original meanness under all the overlaid cultivation + and restraint. + </p> + <p> + Without bothering itself about the recondite problems of heredity or the + influence of environment, the world wisely makes great account of “stock.” + The peasant nature, which may be a very different thing from the peasant + condition, persists, and shows itself in business affairs, in literature, + even in the artist. No marriage is wisely contracted without consideration + of “stock.” The admirable qualities which make a union one of mutual + respect and enduring affection—the generosities, the magnanimities, + the courage of soul, the crystalline truthfulness, the endurance of ill + fortune and of prosperity—are commonly the persistence of the + character of the stock. + </p> + <p> + We can get on with surface weaknesses and eccentricities, and even + disagreeable peculiarities, if the substratum of character is sound. There + is no woman or man so difficult—to get on with, whatever his or her + graces or accomplishments, as the one “you don't know where to find,” as + the phrase is. Indeed, it has come to pass that the highest and final + eulogy ever given to a man, either in public or private life, is that he + is one “you can tie to.” And when you find a woman of that sort you do not + need to explain to the cynical the wisdom of the Creator in making the + most attractive and fascinating sex. + </p> + <p> + The traits, good and bad, persist; they may be veneered or restrained, + they are seldom eradicated. All the traits that made the great Napoleon + worshiped, hated, and feared existed in the little Bonaparte, as perfectly + as the pea-pod in the flower. The whole of the First Empire was smirched + with Corsican vulgarity. The world always reckons with these radical + influences that go to make up a family. One of the first questions asked + by an old politician, who knew his world thoroughly, about any man + becoming prominent, when there was a discussion of his probable action, + was, “Whom did he marry?” + </p> + <p> + There are exceptions to this general rule, and they are always noticeable + when they occur—this deviation from the traits of the earliest years—and + offer material fox some of the subtlest and most interesting studies of + the novelist. + </p> + <p> + It was impossible for those who met Philip Burnett after he had left + college, and taken his degree in the law-school, and spent a year, more or + less studiously, in Europe, to really know him if they had not known the + dreaming boy in his early home, with all the limitations as well as the + vitalizing influences of his start in life. And on the contrary, the error + of the neighbors of a lad in forecasting his career comes from the fact + that they do not know him. The verdict about Philip would probably have + been that he was a very nice sort of a boy, but that he would never “set + the North River on fire.” There was a headstrong, selfish, pushing sort of + boy, one of Philip's older schoolmates, who had become one of the foremost + merchants and operators in New York, and was already talked of for mayor. + This success was the sort that fulfilled the rural idea of getting on in + the world, whereas Philip's accomplishments, seen through the veneer of + conceit which they had occasioned him to take on, did not commend + themselves as anything worth while. Accomplishments rarely do unless they + are translated into visible position or into the currency of the realm. + How else can they be judged? Does not the great public involuntarily + respect the author rather for the sale of his books than for the books + themselves? + </p> + <p> + The period of Philip's novitiate—those most important years from his + acquaintance with Celia Howard to the attainment of his professional + degree—was most interesting to him, but the story of it would not + detain the reader of exciting fiction. He had elected to use his little + patrimony in making himself instead of in making money—if merely + following his inclination could be called an election. If he had reasoned + about it he would have known that the few thousands of dollars left to him + from his father's estate, if judiciously invested in business, would have + grown to a good sum when he came of age, and he would by that time have + come into business habits, so that all he would need to do would be to go + on and make more money. If he had reasoned more deeply he would have seen + that by this process he would become a man of comparatively few resources + for the enjoyment of life, and a person of very little interest to himself + or to anybody else. So perhaps it was just as well that he followed his + instincts and postponed the making of money until he had made himself, + though he was to have a good many bitter days when the possession of money + seemed to him about the one thing desirable. + </p> + <p> + It was Celia, who had been his constant counselor and tormentor, about the + time when she was beginning to feel a little shy and long-legged, in her + short skirts, who had, in a romantic sympathy with his tastes, opposed his + going into a “store” as a clerk, which seemed to the boy at one time an + ideal situation for a young man. + </p> + <p> + “A store, indeed!” cried the young lady; “pomatum on your hair, and a grin + on your face; snip, snip, snip, calico, ribbons, yard-stick; 'It's very + becoming, miss, that color; this is only a sample, only a remnant, but I + shall have a new stock in by Friday; anything else, ma'am, today?' Sho! + Philip, for a man!” + </p> + <p> + Fortunately for Philip there lived in the village an old waif, a scholarly + oddity, uncommunicative, whose coming to dwell there had excited much + gossip before the inhabitants got used to his odd ways. + </p> + <p> + Usually reticent and rough of speech—the children thought he was an + old bear—he was nevertheless discovered to be kindly and even + charitable in neighborhood emergencies, and the minister said he was about + the most learned man he ever knew. His history does not concern us, but he + was doubtless one of the men whose talents have failed to connect with + success in anything, who had had his bout with the world, and retired into + peaceful seclusion in an indulgence of a mild pessimism about the world + generally. + </p> + <p> + He lived alone, except for the rather neutral presence of Aunt Hepsy, who + had formerly been a village tailoress, and whose cottage he had bought + with the proviso that the old woman should continue in it as “help.” With + Aunt Hepsy he was no more communicative than with anybody else. “He was + always readin', when he wasn't goin' fishin' or off in the woods with his + gun, and never made no trouble, and was about the easiest man to get along + with she ever see. You mind your business and he'll mind his'n.” That was + the sum of Aunt Hepsy's delivery about the recluse, though no doubt her + old age was enriched by constant “study” over his probable history and + character. But Aunt Hepsy, since she had given up tailoring, was something + of a recluse herself. + </p> + <p> + The house was full of books, mostly queer books, “in languages nobody + knows what,” as Aunt Hepsy said, which made Philip open his eyes when he + went there one day to take to the old man a memorandum-book which he had + found on Mill Brook. The recluse took a fancy to the ingenuous lad when he + saw he was interested in books, and perhaps had a mind not much more + practical than his own; the result was an acquaintance, and finally an + intimacy—at which the village wondered until it transpired that + Philip was studying with the old fellow, who was no doubt a poor shack of + a school-teacher in disguise. + </p> + <p> + It was from this gruff friend that Philip learned Greek and Latin enough + to enable him to enter college, not enough drill and exact training in + either to give him a high stand, but an appreciation of the literatures + about which the old scholar was always enthusiastic. Philip regretted all + his life that he had not been severely drilled in the classics and + mathematics, for he never could become a specialist in anything. But + perhaps, even in this, fate was dealing with him according to his + capacities. And, indeed, he had a greater respect for the scholarship of + his wayside tutor than for the pedantic acquirements of many men he came + to know afterwards. It was from him that Philip learned about books and + how to look for what he wanted to know, and it was he who directed + Philip's taste to the best. When he went off to college the lad had not a + good preparation, but he knew a great deal that would not count in the + entrance examinations. + </p> + <p> + “You will need all the tools you can get the use of, my boy, in the + struggle,” was the advice of his mentor, “and the things you will need + most may be those you have thought least of. I never go fishing without + both fly and bait.” + </p> + <p> + Philip was always grateful that before he entered college he had a fine + reading knowledge of French, and that he knew enough German to read and + enjoy Heine's poems and prose, and that he had read, or read in, pretty + much all the English classics. + </p> + <p> + He used to recall the remark of a lad about his own age, who was on a + vacation visit to Rivervale, and had just been prepared for college at one + of the famous schools. The boys liked each other and were much together in + the summer, and talked about what interested them during their rambles, + carrying the rod or the fowling-piece. Philip naturally had most to say + about the world he knew, which was the world of books—that is to + say, the stored information that had accumulated in the world. This more + and more impressed the trained student, who one day exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “By George! I might have known something if I hadn't been kept at school + all my life.” + </p> + <p> + Philip's career in college could not have been called notable. He was not + one of the dozen stars in the class-room, but he had a reputation of + another sort. His classmates had a habit of resorting to him if they + wanted to “know anything” outside the text-books, for the range of his + information seemed to them encyclopaedic. On the other hand, he escaped + the reputation of what is called “a good fellow.” He was not so much + unpopular as he was unknown in the college generally, but those who did + know him were tolerant of the fact that he cared more for reading than for + college sports or college politics. It must be confessed that he added + little to the reputation of the university, since his name was never once + mentioned in the public prints—search has been made since the public + came to know him as a writer—as a hero in any crew or team on any + game field. Perhaps it was a little selfish that his muscle developed in + the gymnasium was not put into advertising use for the university. The + excuse was that he had not time to become an athlete, any more than he had + time to spend three years in the discipline of the regular army, which was + in itself an excellent thing. + </p> + <p> + Celia, in one of her letters—it was during her first year at a + woman's college, when the development of muscle in gymnastics, running, + and the vigorous game of ball was largely engaging the attention of this + enthusiastic young lady—took him to task for his inactivity. “This + is the age of muscle,” she wrote; “the brain is useless in a flabby body, + and probably the brain itself is nothing but concentrated intelligent + muscle. I don't know how men are coming out, but women will never get the + position they have the right to occupy until they are physically the + equals of men.” + </p> + <p> + Philip had replied, banteringly, that if that were so he had no desire to + enter in a physical competition with women, and that men had better look + out for another field. + </p> + <p> + But later on, when Celia had got into the swing of the classics, and was + training for a part in the play of “Antigone,” she wrote in a different + strain, though she would have denied that the change had any relation to + the fact that she had strained her back in a rowing-match. She did not + apologize for her former advice, but she was all aglow about the Greek + drama, and made reference to Aspasia as an intellectual type of what women + might become. “I didn't ever tell you how envious I used to be when you + were studying Greek with that old codger in Rivervale, and could talk + about Athens and all that. Next time we meet, I can tell you, it will be + Greek meets Greek. I do hope you have not dropped the classics and gone in + for the modern notion of being real and practical. If I ever hear of your + writing 'real' poetry—it is supposed to be real if it is in dialect + or misspelled! never will write you again, much less speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + Whatever this decided young woman was doing at the time she was sure was + the best for everybody to do, and especially for Master Phil. + </p> + <p> + Now that the days of preparation were over, and Philip found himself in + New York, face to face with the fact that he had nowhere to look for money + to meet the expense of rent, board, and clothes except to his own daily + labor, and that there was another economy besides that which he had + practiced as to luxuries, there were doubtless hours when his faith + wavered a little in the wisdom of the decision that had invested all his + patrimony in himself. He had been fortunate, to be sure, in securing a + clerk's desk in the great law-office of Hunt, Sharp & Tweedle, and he + had the kindly encouragement of the firm that, with close application to + business, he would make his way. But even in this he had his misgivings, + for a great part of his acquirements, and those he most valued, did not + seem to be of any use in his office-work. He had a lofty conception of his + chosen profession, as the right arm in the administration of justice + between man and man. In practice, however, it seemed to him that the + object was to win a case rather than to do justice in a case. + Unfortunately, also, he had cultivated his imagination to the extent that + he could see both sides of a case. To see both sides is indeed the + requisite of a great lawyer, but to see the opposite side only in order to + win, as in looking over an opponent's hand in a game of cards. It seemed + to Philip that this clear perception would paralyze his efforts for one + side if he knew it was the wrong side. The argument was that every cause a + man's claim or his defense—ought to be presented in its fullness and + urged with all the advocate's ingenuity, and that the decision was in the + bosom of an immaculate justice on the bench and the unbiased intelligence + in the jury-box. This might be so. But Philip wondered what would be the + effect on his own character and on his intellect if he indulged much in + the habit of making the worse appear the better cause, and taking up + indifferently any side that paid. For himself, he was inclined always to + advise clients to “settle,” and he fancied that if the occupation of the + lawyer was to explain the case to people ignorant of it, and to champion + only the right side, as it appeared to an unprejudiced, legally trained + mind, and to compose instead of encouraging differences, the law would + indeed be a noble profession, and the natural misunderstandings, + ignorance, and different points of view would make business enough. + </p> + <p> + “Stuff!” said Mr. Sharp. “If you begin by declining causes you disapprove + of, the public will end by letting you alone in your self-conceited + squeamishness. It's human nature you've got to deal with, not theories + about law and justice. I tell you that men like litigation. They want to + have it out with somebody. And it is better than fisticuffs.” + </p> + <p> + From Mr. Hunt, who moved in the serener upper currents of the law, Philip + got more satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, Mr. Burnett, there are miserable squabbles in the law + practice, and contemptible pettifoggers and knaves, and men who will sell + themselves for any dirty work, as there are in most professions and + occupations, but the profession could not exist for a day if it was not on + the whole on the side of law and order and justice. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt it needs from time to time criticism and reformation. So does + the church. You look at the characters of the really great lawyers! And + there is another thing. In dealing with the cases of our complex life, + there is no accomplishment, no learning in science, art, or literature, + that the successful practitioner will not find it very advantageous to + possess. And a lawyer will never be eminent who has not imagination.” + </p> + <p> + Philip thought he had a very good chance of exercising his imagination in + the sky chamber where he slept—a capital situation from which to + observe the world. There could not have been an uglier view created—a + shapeless mass of brick and stone and painted wood, a collected, towering + monstrosity of rectangular and inharmonious lines, a realized dream of + hideousness—but for the splendid sky, always changing and doing all + that was possible in the gleams and shadows and the glowing colors of + morning and evening to soften the ambitious work of man; but for the wide + horizon, with patches of green shores and verdant flats washed by the + kindly tide; but for the Highlands and Staten Island, the gateway to the + ocean; but for the great river and the mighty bay shimmering and twinkling + and often iridescent, and the animated life of sails and steamers, the + leviathans of commerce and the playthings of pleasure, and the + beetle-like, monstrous ferry-boats that pushed their noses through all the + confusion, like intelligent, business-like saurians that knew how to keep + an appointed line by a clumsy courtesy of apparent yielding. Yes, there + was life enough in all this, and inspiration, if one only knew what to be + inspired about. + </p> + <p> + When Philip came home from the office at sunset, through the bustling + streets, and climbed up to his perch, he insensibly brought with him + something of the restless energy and strife of the city, and in this mood + the prospect before him took on a certain significance of great things + accomplished, of the highest form of human energy and achievement; he was + a part of this exuberant, abundant life, to succeed in the struggle seemed + easy, and for the moment he possessed what he saw. + </p> + <p> + The little room had space enough for a cot bed, a toilet-stand, a couple + of easy-chairs—an easy-chair is the one article of furniture + absolutely necessary to a reflecting student—some well-filled + book-shelves, a small writing-desk, and a tiny closet quite large enough + for a wardrobe which seemed to have no disposition to grow. Except for the + books and the writing-desk, with its heterogeneous manuscripts, unfinished + or rejected, there was not much in the room to indicate the taste of its + occupant, unless you knew that his taste was exhibited rather by what he + excluded from the room than by what it contained. It must be confessed + that, when Philip was alone with his books and his manuscripts, his + imagination did not expand in the directions that would have seemed + profitable to the head of his firm. That life of the town which was + roaring in his ears, that panorama of prosperity spread before him, + related themselves in his mind not so much as incitements to engage in the + quarrels of his profession as something demanding study and + interpretation, something much more human than processes and briefs and + arguments. And it was a dark omen for his success that the world + interested him much more for itself than for what he could make out of it. + Make something to be sure he must—so long as he was only a law clerk + on a meagre salary—and it was this necessity that had much to do + with the production of the manuscripts. It was a joke on Philip in his + club—by-the-way, the half-yearly dues were not far off—that he + was doing splendidly in the law; he already had an extensive practice in + chambers! + </p> + <p> + The law is said to be a jealous mistress, but literature is a young lady + who likes to be loved for herself alone, and thinks permission to adore is + sufficient reward for her votary. Common-sense told Philip that the + jealous mistress would flout him and land him in failure if he gave her a + half-hearted service; but the other young lady, the Helen of the + professions, was always beckoning him and alluring him by the most subtle + arts, occupying all his hours with meditations on her grace and beauty, + till it seemed the world were well lost for her smile. And the fascinating + jade never hinted that devotion to her brought more drudgery and + harassment and pain than any other service in the world. It would not have + mattered if she had been frank, and told him that her promise of eternal + life was illusory and her rewards commonly but a flattering of vanity. + There was no resisting her enchantments, and he would rather follow her + through a world of sin and suffering, pursuing her radiant form over bog + and moor, in penury and heartache, for one sunrise smile and one glimpse + of her sunset heaven, than to walk at ease with a commonplace maiden on + any illumined and well-trod highway. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <p> + It is the desire of every ambitious soul to, enter Literature by the front + door, and the few who have patience and money enough to live without the + aid of the beckoning Helen may enter there. But a side entrance is the + destiny of most aspirants, even those with the golden key of genius, and + they are a long time in working their way to be seen coming out, of the + front entrance. It is true that a man can attract considerable and + immediate attention by trying to effect an entrance through the sewer, but + he seldom gains the respect of the public whom he interests, any more than + an exhibitor of fireworks gains the reputation of an artist that is + accorded to the painter of a good picture. + </p> + <p> + Philip was waiting at the front door, with his essays and his prose + symphonies and his satirical novel—the satire of a young man is apt + to be very bitter—but it was as tightly shut against him as if a + publisher and not the muse of literature kept the door. + </p> + <p> + There was a fellow-boarder with Philip, whose acquaintance he had made at + the common table in the basement, who appeared to be free of the world of + letters and art. He was an alert, compact, neatly dressed little fellow, + who had apparently improved every one of his twenty-eight years in the + study of life, in gaining assurance and confidence in himself, and also + presented himself as one who knew the nether world completely but was not + of it. He would have said of himself that he knew it profoundly, that he + frequented it for “material,” but that his home was in another sphere. The + impression was that he belonged among those brilliant guerrillas of both + sexes, in the border-land of art and society, who lived daintily and + talked about life with unconventional freedom. Slight in figure, with very + black hair, and eyes of cloudy gray, an olive complexion, and features + trained to an immobility proof against emotion or surprise, the whole + poised as we would say in the act of being gentlemanly, it is needless to + say that he took himself seriously. His readiness, self-confidence, + cocksureness, Philip thought all expressed in his name—Olin Brad. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brad was not a Bohemian—that is, not at all a Bohemian of the + recognized type. His fashionable dress, closely trimmed hair, and dainty + boots took him out of that class. He belonged to the new order, which + seems to have come in with modern journalism—that is, Bohemian in + principle, but of the manners and apparel of the favored of fortune. Mr. + Brad was undoubtedly clever, and was down as a bright young man in the + list of those who employed talent which was not dulled by conscientious + scruples. He had stood well in college, during three years in Europe he + had picked up two or three languages, dissipated his remaining small + fortune, acquired expensive tastes, and knowledge, both esoteric and + exoteric, that was valuable to him in his present occupation. Returning + home fully equipped for a modern literary career, and finding after some + bitter experience that his accomplishments were not taken or paid for at + their real value by the caterers for intellectual New York, he had dropped + into congenial society on the staff of the Daily Spectrum, a mighty engine + of public opinion, which scattered about the city and adjacent territory a + million of copies, as prodigally as if they had been auctioneers' + announcements. Fastidious people who did not read it gave it a bad name, + not recognizing the classic and heroic attitude of those engaged in + pitchforking up and turning over the muck of the Augean stables under the + pretense of cleaning them. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brad had a Socratic contempt for this sort of fault-finding. It was + answer enough to say, “It pays. The people like it or they wouldn't buy + it. It commands the best talent in the market and can afford to pay for + it; even clergymen like to appear in its columns—they say it's a + providential chance to reach the masses. And look at the 'Morning GooGoo' + (this was his nickname for one of the older dailies), it couldn't pay its + paper bills if it hadn't such a small circulation.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brad, however, was not one of the editors, though the acceptance of an + occasional short editorial, sufficiently piquant and impudent and vivid in + language—to suit, had given him hopes. He was salaried, but under + orders for special service, and was always in the hope that the execution + of each new assignment would bring him into popular notice, which would + mean an advance of position and pay. + </p> + <p> + Philip was impressed with the ready talent, the adaptable talent, and the + facility of this accomplished journalist, and as their acquaintance + improved he was let into many of the secrets of success in the profession. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't an easy thing,” said Mr. Brad, “to cater to a public that gets + tired of anything in about three days. But it is just as well satisfied + with a contradiction as with the original statement. It calls both news. + You have to watch out and see what the people want, and give it to 'em. It + is something like the purveying of the manufacturers and the dry-goods + jobber for the changing trade in fashions; only the newspaper has the + advantage that it can turn a somersault every day and not have any useless + stock left on hand. + </p> + <p> + “The public hasn't any memory, or, if it has, this whirligig process + destroys it. What it will not submit to is the lack of a daily surprise. + Keep that in your mind and you can make a popular newspaper. Only,” + continued Mr. Brad, reflectively, “you've got to hit a lot of different + tastes.” + </p> + <p> + “You'd laugh,” this artist in emotions went on, after a little pause, “at + some of my assignments. There was a run awhile ago on elopements, and my + assignment was to have one every Monday morning. The girl must always be + lovely and refined and moving in the best society; elopement with the + coachman preferred, varied with a teacher in a Sunday-school. Invented? + Not always. It was surprising how many you could find ready made, if you + were on the watch. I got into the habit of locating them in the interior + of Pennsylvania as the safest place, though Jersey seemed equally probable + to the public. Did I never get caught? That made it all the more lively + and interesting. Denials, affidavits, elaborate explanations, two sides to + any question; if it was too hot, I could change the name and shift the + scene to a still more obscure town. Or it could be laid to the zeal of a + local reporter, who could give the most ingenious reasons for his story. + Once I worked one of those imaginary reporters up into such prominence for + his clever astuteness that my boss was taken in, and asked me to send for + him and give him a show on the paper. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, we have to keep up the domestic side. A paper will not go unless + the women like it. One of the assignments I liked was 'Sayings of Our + Little Ones.' This was for every Tuesday morning. Not more than half a + column. These always got copied by the country press solid. It is really + surprising how many bright things you can make children of five and six + years say if you give your mind to it. The boss said that I overdid it + sometimes and made them too bright instead of 'just cunning.' + </p> + <p> + “'Psychological Study of Children' had a great run. This is the age of + science. Same with animals, astronomy—anything. If the public wants + science, the papers will give it science. + </p> + <p> + “After all, the best hold for a lasting sensation is an attack upon some + charity or public institution; show up the abuses, and get all the + sentimentalists on your side. The paper gets sympathy for its fearlessness + in serving the public interests. It is always easy to find plenty of + testimony from ill-used convicts and grumbling pensioners.” + </p> + <p> + Undoubtedly Olin Brad was a clever fellow, uncommonly well read in the + surface literatures of foreign origin, and had a keen interest in what he + called the metaphysics of his own time. He had many good qualities, among + them friendliness towards men and women struggling like himself to get up + the ladder, and he laid aside all jealousy when he advised Philip to try + his hand at some practical work on the Spectrum. What puzzled Philip was + that this fabricator of “stories” for the newspaper should call himself a + “realist.” The “story,” it need hardly be explained, is newspaper slang + for any incident, true or invented, that is worked up for dramatic effect. + To state the plain facts as they occurred, or might have occurred, and as + they could actually be seen by a competent observer, would not make a + story. The writer must put in color, and idealize the scene and the people + engaged in it, he must invent dramatic circumstances and positions and + language, so as to produce a “picture.” And this picture, embroidered on a + commonplace incident, has got the name of “news.” The thread of fact in + this glittering web the reader must pick out by his own wits, assisted by + his memory of what things usually are. And the public likes these stories + much better than the unadorned report of facts. It is accustomed to this + view of life, so much so that it fancies it never knew what war was, or + what a battle was, until the novelists began to report them. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brad was in the story stage of his evolution as a writer. His light + facility in it had its attraction for Philip, but down deep in his nature + he felt and the impression was deepened by watching the career of several + bright young men and women on the press—that indulgence in it would + result in such intellectual dishonesty as to destroy the power of + producing fiction that should be true to life. He was so impressed by the + ability and manifold accomplishments of Mr. Brad that he thought it a pity + for him to travel that road, and one day he asked him why he did not go in + for literature. + </p> + <p> + “Literature!” exclaimed Mr. Brad, with some irritation; “I starved on + literature for a year. Who does live on it, till he gets beyond the + necessity of depending on it? There is a lot of humbug talked about it. + You can't do anything till you get your name up. Some day I will make a + hit, and everybody will ask, 'Who is this daring, clever Olin Brad?' Then + I can get readers for anything I choose to write. Look at Champ Lawson. He + can't write correct English, he never will, he uses picturesque words in a + connection that makes you doubt if he knows what they mean. But he did a + dare-devil thing picturesquely, and now the publishers are at his feet. + When I met him the other day he affected to be bored with so much + attention, and wished he had stuck to the livery-stable. He began at + seventeen by reporting a runaway from the point of view of the hostler.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Philip, “isn't it quite in the line of the new movement that + we should have an introspective hostler, who perhaps obeys Sir Philip + Sidney's advice, 'Look into your heart and write'? I chanced the other + night in a company of the unconventional and illuminated, the 'poster' set + in literature and art, wild-eyed and anaemic young women and intensely + languid, 'nil admirari' young men, the most advanced products of the + studios and of journalism. It was a very interesting conclave. Its + declared motto was, 'We don't read, we write.' And the members were on a + constant strain to say something brilliant, epigrammatic, original. The + person who produced the most outre sentiment was called 'strong.' The + women especially liked no writing that was not 'strong.' The strongest man + in the company, and adored by the women, was the poet-artist Courci + Cleves, who always seems to have walked straight out of a fashion-plate, + much deferred to in this set, which affects to defer to nothing, and a + thing of beauty in the theatre lobbies. Mr. Cleves gained much applause + for his well-considered wish that all that has been written in the world, + all books and libraries, could be destroyed, so as to give a chance to the + new men and the fresh ideas of the new era.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir,” said Brad, who did not like this caricature of his friends, + “you don't make any allowance for the eccentricities of genius.” + </p> + <p> + “You would hit it nearer if you said I didn't make allowance for the + eccentricities without genius,” retorted Philip. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied Mr. Brad, taking his leave, “you don't understand your + world. You go your own way and see where you will come out.” + </p> + <p> + And when Philip reflected on it, he wondered if it were not rash to offend + those who had the public ear, and did up the personals and minor + criticisms for the current prints. He was evidently out of view. No + magazine paper of his had gained the slightest notice from these + sublimated beings, who discovered a new genius every month. + </p> + <p> + A few nights after this conversation Mr. Brad was in uncommon spirits at + dinner. + </p> + <p> + “Anything special turned up?” asked Philip. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing much. I've thrown away the chance of the biggest kind of a + novel of American life. Only it wouldn't keep. You look in the Spectrum + tomorrow morning. You'll see something interesting.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it a—” and Philip's incredulous expression supplied the word. + </p> + <p> + “No, not a bit. And the public is going to be deceived this time, sure, + expecting a fake. You know Mavick?” + </p> + <p> + “I've heard of him—the operator, a millionaire.” + </p> + <p> + “A good many times. Used to be minister or consul or something at Rome. A + great swell. It's about his daughter, Evelyn, a stunning girl about + sixteen or seventeen—not out yet.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope it's no scandal.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; she's all right. It's the way she's brought up—shows what + we've come to. They say she's the biggest heiress in America and a raving + beauty, the only child. She has been brought up like the Kohinoor, never + out of somebody's sight. She has never been alone one minute since she was + born. Had three nurses, and it was the business of one of them, in turn, + to keep an eye on her. Just think of that. Never was out of the sight of + somebody in her life. Has two maids now—always one in the room, + night and day.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the parents are afraid she'll be kidnapped, and held for a big + ransom. No, I never saw her, but I've got the thing down to a dot. + Wouldn't I like to interview her, though, get her story, how the world + looks to her. Under surveillance for sixteen years! The 'Prisoner of + Chillon' is nothing to it for romance.” + </p> + <p> + “Just the facts are enough, I should say.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, facts make a good basis, sometimes. I've got 'em all in, but of + course I've worked the thing up for all it is worth. You'll see. I kept it + one day to try and get a photograph. We've got the house and Mavick, but + the girl's can't be found, and it isn't safe to wait. We are going to blow + it out tomorrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI + </h2> + <p> + The Mavick mansion was on Fifth Avenue in the neighborhood of Central + Park. It was one of the buildings in the city that strangers were always + taken to see. In fact, this was a palace not one kind of a palace, but all + kinds of a palace. The clever and ambitious architect of the house had + grouped all the styles of architecture he had ever seen, or of which he + had seen pictures. Here was not an architectural conception, like a sonnet + or a well-constructed novel, but if all the work could have been spread + out in line, in all its variety, there would have been produced a + panorama. The sight of the mansion always caused wonder and generally + ignorant admiration. Its vastness and splendor were felt to be somehow + typical of the New World and of the cosmopolitan city. + </p> + <p> + The cost, in the eyes of the spectators, was a great part of its merits. + No doubt this was a fabulous sum. “You can form a little idea of it,” said + a gentleman to his country friend, “when I tell you that that little bit + there, that little corner of carving and decoration, cost two hundred + thousand dollars! I had this from the architect himself.” + </p> + <p> + “My!” + </p> + <p> + The interior was as fully representative of wealth and of the ambition to + put under one roof all the notable effects of all the palaces in the + world. But it had, what most palaces have not, all the requisites for + luxurious living. The variety of styles in the rooms was bewildering. + Artists of distinction, both foreign and native, had vied with each other + in the decoration of the rooms given over to the display of their genius. + All paganism and all Christianity, history, myth, and the beauties of + nature were spread upon the walls and ceilings. Rare woods, rare marbles, + splendid textures, the product of ancient handiwork and modern looms, + added a certain dignity to the more airy creations of the artists. Many of + the rooms were named from the nations whose styles of decoration and + furnishing were imitated in them, but others had the simple designation of + the gold room, the silver room, the lapis-lazuli room, and so on. It was + not only the show-rooms, the halls, passages, stairways, and galleries + (both of pictures and of curios) that were thus enriched, but the + boudoirs, retiring-rooms, and more private apartments as well. It was not + simply a house of luxury, but of all the comfort that modern invention can + furnish. It was said that the money lavished upon one or two of the noble + apartments would have built a State-house (though not at Albany), and that + the fireplace in the great hall cost as much as an imitation mediaeval + church. These were the things talked about, and yet the portions of this + noble edifice, rich as they were, habitually occupied by the family had + another character—the attractions and conveniences of what we call a + home. Mrs. Mavick used to say that in her apartments she found refuge in a + sublimated domesticity. Mavick's own quarters—not the study off the + library where he received visitors whom it was necessary to impress—had + an executive appearance, and were, in the necessary appliances, more like + the interior bureau of a board of trade. In fact, the witty brokers who + were admitted to its mysteries called it the bucket-shop. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brad's article on “A Prisoned Millionaire” more than equaled Philip's + expectations. No such “story” had appeared in the city press in a long + time. It was what was called, in the language of the period, a work of art—that + is, a sensation, heightened by all the words of color in the language, + applied not only to material things, but to states and qualities of mind, + such as “purple emotions” and “scarlet intrepidity.” It was also + exceedingly complimentary. Mavick himself was one of the powers and + pillars of American society, and the girl was an exquisite exhibition of + woodland bloom in the first flush of spring-time. As he read it over, + Philip thought what a fine advertisement it is to every impecunious noble + in Europe. + </p> + <p> + That morning, before going to his office, Philip strolled up Fifth Avenue + to look at that now doubly, famous mansion. Many others, it appeared, were + moved by the same curiosity. There was already a crowd assembled. A couple + of policemen, on special duty, patrolled the sidewalk in front in order to + keep a passage open, and perhaps to prevent a too impudent inspection. + Opposite the house, on the sidewalk and on door-steps, was a motley + throng, largely made up of toughs and roughs from the East Side, + good-natured spectators who merely wanted to see this splendid prison, and + a moving line of gentlemen and ladies who simply happened to be passing + that way at this time. The curbstone was lined with a score of reporters + of the city journals, each with his note-book. Every window and entrance + was eagerly watched. It was hoped that one of the family might be seen, or + that some servant might appear who could be interviewed. Upon the windows + supposed by the reporters to be those from which the heiress looked, a + strict watch was kept. The number, form, and location of these windows + were accurately noted, the stuff of the curtains described in the phrase + of the upholsterer, and much good language was devoted to the view from + these windows. The shrewdest of the reporters had already sought + information as to the interior from the flower dealers, from upholsterers, + from artists who had been employed in the decorations, and had even + assailed, in the name of the rights of the public whom they represented, + the architects of the building; but their chief reliance was upon the + waiters furnished by the leading caterers on occasions of special + receptions and great dinners, and milliners and dress-makers, who had + penetrated the more domestic apartments. By reason of this extraordinary + article in the newspaper, the public had acquired the right to know all + about the private life of the Mavick family. + </p> + <p> + This right was not acknowledged by Mr. Mavick and his family. Of course + the object of the excitement was wholly ignorant of the cause of it, as no + daily newspaper was ever seen by her that had not been carefully inspected + by the trusted and intelligent governess. The crowd in front of the + mansion was accounted for by the statement that a picture of it had + appeared in one of the low journals, and there was naturally a curiosity + to see it. And Evelyn was told that this was one of the penalties a man + paid for being popular. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mavick, who seldom lost her head, was thoroughly frightened and + upset, and it was a rare occasion that could upset the equanimity of the + late widow, Mrs. Carmen Henderson. She gave way to her passion and + demanded that the offending editor should be pursued with the utmost rigor + of the law. Mr. Mavick was not less annoyed and angry, but he smiled when + his wife talked of pursuing the press with the utmost rigor of the law, + and said that he would give the matter prompt attention. That day he had + an interview with the editor of the Daily Spectrum; which was satisfactory + to both parties. The editor would have said that Mavick behaved like a + gentleman. The result of the interview appeared in the newspaper of the + following morning. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mavick had requested that the offending reporter should be cautioned; + he was too wise to have further attention called to the matter by + demanding his dismissal. Accordingly the reporter was severely + reprimanded, and then promoted. + </p> + <p> + The editorial, which was written by Mr. Olin Brad, and was in his best + Macaulay style, began somewhat humorously by alluding to the curious + interest of the public in ancient history, citing Mr. Froude and Mr. + Carlyle, and the legend of Casper Hauser. It was true, gradually + approaching the case in point, that uncommon precautions had been taken in + the early years of the American heiress, and it was the romance of the + situation that had been laid before the readers of the Spectrum. But there + had been really no danger in our chivalrous, free American society, and + all these precautions were long a thing of the past (which was not true). + In short, with elaboration and great skill, and some humor, the + exaggerations of the former article were minimized, and put in an airy and + unsubstantial light. And then this friend of the people, this exposer of + abuses and champion of virtue, turned and justly scored the sensational + press for prying into the present life of one of the first families in the + country. + </p> + <p> + Incidentally, it was mentioned that the ladies of the family had before + this incident bespoken their passage for their annual visit to Europe, and + that this affair had not disturbed their arrangements (which also was not + true). This casual announcement was intended to draw away attention from + the Fifth Avenue house, and to notify the roughs that it would be useless + to lay any plans. + </p> + <p> + The country press, which had far and wide printed the interesting story, + softened it in accordance with the later development. Possibly no + intelligent person was deceived, but in the estimation of the mass of the + people the Spectrum increased its reputation for enterprise and smartness + and gave also an impression of its fairness. The manager, told Mr. Brad + that the increased sales of the two days permitted the establishment to + give him a vacation of two weeks on full pay, and during these weeks the + manager himself set up a neat and modest brougham. + </p> + <p> + All of which events, only partially understood, Mr. Philip Burnett + revolved in his mind, and wondered if what was called success was worth + the price paid for it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII + </h2> + <p> + The name of Thomas Mavick has lost the prominence and significance it had + at the time the events recorded in this history were taking place. It + seems incredible that the public should so soon have lost interest in him. + His position in the country was most conspicuous. No name was more + frequently in the newspapers. No other person not in official life was so + often interviewed. The reporters instinctively turned to him for + information in matters financial, concerning deals, and commercial, which + were so commonly connected with political, enterprises. No loan was + negotiated without consulting him, no operation was considered safe + without knowing how he was affected towards it, and to ascertain what + Mavick was doing or thinking was a constant anxiety in the Street. Of + course the opinion of a man so powerful was very important in politics, + and any church or sect would be glad to have his support. The fact that he + and his family worshiped regularly at St. Agnes's was a guarantee of the + stability of that church, and incidentally marked the success of the + Christian religion in the metropolis. + </p> + <p> + But the condition of the presence in the public mind of the name of a + great operator and accumulator of money who is merely that is either that + he go on accumulating, so that the magnitude of his wealth has few if any + rivals, or that his name become synonymous with some gigantic cleverness, + if not rascality, so that it is used as an adjective after he and his + wealth have disappeared from the public view. It is different with the + reputation of an equally great financier who has used his ability for the + service of his country. There is no Valhalla for the mere accumulators of + money. They are fortunate if their names are forgotten, and not remembered + as illustrations of colossal selfishness. + </p> + <p> + Mavick may have been the ideal of many a self-made man, but he did not + make his fortune—he married it. And it was suspected that the + circumstances attending that marriage put him in complete control of it. + He came into possession, however, with cultivated shrewdness and tact and + large knowledge of the world, the world of diplomacy as well as of + business. And under his manipulation the vast fortune so acquired was + reported to have been doubled. It was at any rate almost fabulous in the + public estimation. + </p> + <p> + When the charming widow of the late Rodney Henderson, then sojourning in + Rome, placed her attractive self and her still more attractive fortune in + the hands of Mr. Thomas Mavick, United States Minister to the Court of + Italy, she attained a position in the social world which was in accord + with her ambition, and Mavick acquired the means of making the mission, in + point of comparison with the missions of the other powers at the Italian + capital, a credit to the Great Republic. The match was therefore a + brilliant one, and had a sort of national importance. + </p> + <p> + Those who knew Mrs. Mavick in the remote past, when she was the + fascinating and not definitely placed Carmen Eschelle, and who also knew + Mr. Mavick when he was the confidential agent of Rodney Henderson, knew + that their union was a convenient and material alliance, in which the + desire of each party to enjoy in freedom all the pleasures of the world + could be gratified while retaining the social consideration of the world. + Both had always been circumspect. And it may be added, for the information + of strangers, that they thoroughly knew each other, and were participants + in a knowledge that put each at disadvantage, so that their wedded life + was a permanent truce. This bond of union was not ideal, and not the best + for the creation of individual character, but it avoided an exhibition of + those public antagonisms which so grieve and disturb the even flow of the + current of society, and give occasion to so much witty comment on the + institution of marriage itself. + </p> + <p> + When, some two years after Mr. Mavick relinquished the mission to Italy to + another statesman who had done some service to the opposite party, an + heiress was born to the house of Mavick, her appearance in the world + occasioned some disappointment to those who had caused it. Mavick + naturally wished a son to inherit his name and enlarge the gold foundation + upon which its perpetuity must rest; and Mrs. Mavick as naturally shrank + from a responsibility that promised to curtail freedom of action in the + life she loved. Carmen—it was an old saying of the danglers in the + time of Henderson—was a domestic woman except in her own home. + </p> + <p> + However, it is one of the privileges of wealth to lighten the cares and + duties of maternity, and the enlarged household was arranged upon a basis + that did not interfere with the life of fashion and the charitable + engagements of the mother. Indeed, this adaptable woman soon found that + she had become an object of more than usual interest, by her latest + exploit, in the circles in which she moved, and her softened manner and + edifying conversation showed that she appreciated her position. Even the + McTavishes, who were inclined to be skeptical, said that Carmen was + delightful in her new role. This showed that the information Mrs. Mavick + got from the women who took care of her baby was of a kind to touch the + hearts of mothers and spinsters. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, the child was very pretty, and early had winning ways. The + nurse, before the baby was a year old, discovered in her the cleverness of + the father and the grace and fascination of the mother. And it must be + said that, if she did not excite passionate affection at first, she + enlisted paternal and maternal pride in her career. It dawned upon both + parents that a daughter might give less cause for anxiety than a son, and + that in an heiress there were possibilities of an alliance that would give + great social distinction. Considering, therefore, all that she + represented, and the settled conviction of Mrs. Mavick that she would be + the sole inheritor of the fortune, her safety and education became objects + of the greatest anxiety and precaution. + </p> + <p> + It happened that about the time Evelyn was christened there was a sort of + epidemic of stealing children, and of attempts to rob tombs of occupants + who had died rich or distinguished, in the expectation of a ransom. The + newspapers often chronicled mysterious disappearances; parents whose names + were conspicuous suffered great anxiety, and extraordinary precautions + were taken in regard to the tombs of public men. And this was the reason + that the heiress of the house of Mavick became the object of a watchful + vigilance that was probably never before exercised in a republic, and that + could only be paralleled in the case of a sole heir-apparent of royalty. + </p> + <p> + These circumstances resulted in an interference with the laws of nature + which it must be confessed destroyed one of the most interesting studies + in heredity that was ever offered to an historian of social life. What + sort of a child had we a right to expect from Thomas Mavick, diplomatist + and operator, successor to the rights and wrongs of Rodney Henderson, and + Carmen Mavick, with the past of Carmen Eschelle and Mrs. Henderson? Those + who adhered to the strictest application of heredity, in considering the + natural development of Evelyn Mavick, sought refuge in the physiological + problem of the influence of Rodney Henderson, and declared that something + of his New England sturdiness and fundamental veracity had been imparted + to the inheritor of his great fortune. + </p> + <p> + But the visible interference took the form of Ann McDonald, a Scotch + spinster, to whom was intrusted the care of Evelyn as soon as she was + christened. It was merely a piece of good fortune that brought a person of + the qualifications of Ann McDonald into the family, for it is not to be + supposed that Mrs. Mavick had given any thought to the truth that the + important education of a child begins in its cradle, or that in selecting + a care-taker and companion who should later on be a governess she was + consulting her own desire of freedom from the duties of a mother. It was + enough for her that the applicant for the position had the highest + recommendations, that she was prepossessing in appearance, and it was soon + perceived that the guardian was truthful, faithful, vigilant, and of an + affectionate disposition and an innate refinement. + </p> + <p> + Ann McDonald was the only daughter of a clergyman of the Scotch Church, + and brought up in the literary atmosphere common in the most cultivated + Edinburgh homes. She had been accurately educated, and always with the + knowledge that her education might be her capital in life. After the death + of her mother, when she was nineteen, she had been her father's + housekeeper, and when in her twenty-fourth year her father relinquished + his life and his salary, she decided, under the advice of influential + friends, to try her fortune in America. And she never doubted that it was + a providential guidance that brought her into intimate relations with the + infant heiress. It seemed probable that a woman so attractive and so + solidly accomplished would not very long remain a governess, but in fact + her career was chosen from the moment she became interested in the + development of the mind and character of the child intrusted to her care. + It is difficult to see how our modern life would go on as well as it does + if there were not in our homes a good many such faithful souls. It + sometimes seems, in this shifting world, that about the best any of us can + do is to prepare some one else for doing something well. + </p> + <p> + Miss McDonald had a pretty comprehensive knowledge of English literature + and history, and, better perhaps than mere knowledge, a discriminating and + cultivated taste. If her religious education had twisted her view of the + fine arts, she had nevertheless a natural sympathy for the beautiful, and + she would not have been a Scotchwoman if she had not had a love for the + romances of her native land and at heart a “ballad” sentiment for the + cavaliers. If Evelyn had been educated by her in Edinburgh, she might have + been in sentiment a young Jacobite. She had through translations a + sufficient knowledge of the classics to give her the necessary literary + background, and her study of Latin had led her into the more useful + acquisition of French. + </p> + <p> + If she had been free to indulge her own taste, she would have gone far in + natural history, as was evident from her mastery of botany and her + interest in birds. + </p> + <p> + She inspired so much confidence by her good sense, clear-headedness, and + discretion, that almost from the first Evelyn was confided to her sole + care, with only the direction that the baby was never for an instant, + night or day, to be left out of the sight of a trusty attendant. The nurse + was absolutely under her orders, she selected the two maids, and no person + except the parents and the governess could admit visitors to the nursery. + This perfect organization was maintained for many years, and though it + came to be relaxed in details, it was literally true that the heiress was + never alone, and never out of the sight of some trusted person responsible + for her safety. But whatever the changes or relaxation, in holidays, + amusements, travel, or education, the person who formed her mind was the + one who had taught her to obey, to put words together into language, and + to speak the truth, from infancy. + </p> + <p> + It is not necessary to consider Ann McDonald as a paragon. She was simply + an intelligent, disciplined woman, with a strong sense of duty. If she had + married and gone about the ordinary duties of life at the age of + twenty-four, she would probably have been in no marked way distinguished + among women. Her own development was largely due to the responsibility + that was put upon her in the training of another person. In this sense it + was true that she had learned as much as she had imparted. And in nothing + was this more evident than in the range of her literary taste and + judgment. Whatever risks, whatever latitude she might have been disposed + to take with regard to her own mind, she would not take as to the mind of + another, and as a consequence her own standards rose to meet the + situation. That is to say, in a conscientious selection of only the best + for Evelyn, she became more fastidious as to the food for her own mind. + Or, to put it in still another way, in regard to character and culture + generally, the growth of Miss McDonald could be measured by that of + Evelyn. + </p> + <p> + When, from the time Evelyn was seven years old, it became necessary in her + education to call in special tutors in the languages and in mathematics, + and in certain arts that are generally called accomplishments, Miss + McDonald was always present when the lessons were given, so that she + maintained her ascendency and her influence in the girl's mind. It was + this inseparable companionship, at least in all affairs of the mind, that + gave to this educational experiment an exceptional interest to students of + psychology. Nothing could be more interesting than to come into contact + with a mind that from infancy onward had dwelt only upon what is noblest + in literature, and from which had been excluded all that is enervating and + degrading. A remarkable illustration of this is the familiar case of Helen + Keller, whose acquisitions, by reason of her blindness and deafness, were + limited to what was selected for her, and that mainly by one person, and + she was therefore for a long time shielded from a knowledge of the evil + side of life. Yet all vital literature is so close to life, and so full of + its passion and peril, that it supplies all the necessary aliment for the + growth of a sound, discriminating mind; and that knowledge of the world, + as knowledge of evil is euphemistically called, can be safely left out of + a good education. This may be admitted without going into the discussion + whether good principles and standards in literature and morals are a + sufficient equipment for the perils of life. + </p> + <p> + This experiment, of course, was limited in Evelyn's case. She came in + contact with a great deal of life. Her little world was fairly + representative, for it contained her father, her mother, her governess, + the maids and the servants, and occasional visitors, whom she saw freely + as she grew older. The interesting fact was that she was obliged to judge + this world according to the standards of literature, morals, and manners + that had been implanted in her mainly by the influence of one person. The + important part of this experiment of partial exclusion, in which she was + never alone' an experiment undertaken solely for her safety and not for + her training-was seen in her when she became conscious of its abnormal + character, and perceived that she was always under surveillance. It might + have made her exceedingly morbid, aside from its effect of paralyzing her + self-confidence and power of initiation, had it not been for the + exceptionally strong and cheerful nature of her companion. A position more + hateful, even to a person not specially socially inclined, cannot be + imagined than that of always being watched, and never having any assured + privacy. And under such a tutelage and dependence, how in any event could + she be able to take care of herself? What weapons had this heiress of a + great fortune with which to defend herself? What sort of a girl had this + treatment during seventeen years produced? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII + </h2> + <p> + To the private apartment of Mr. Mavick, in the evening of the second + eventful day, where, over his after-dinner cigar, he was amusing himself + with a French novel, enters, after a little warning tap, the mistress of + the house, for, what was a rare occurrence, a little family chat. + </p> + <p> + “So you didn't horsewhip and you didn't prosecute. You preferred to + wriggle out!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mavick, too much pleased with the result to be belligerent, “I + let the newspaper do the wriggling.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear, I can trust you for that. Have you any idea how it got hold + of the details?” + </p> + <p> + “No; you don't think McDonald—” + </p> + <p> + “McDonald! I'd as soon suspect myself. So would you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, everybody knew it already, for that matter. I only wonder that some + newspaper didn't get on to it before. What did Evelyn say?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing more than what you heard at dinner. She thought it amusing that + there should be such a crowd to gaze at the house, simply because a + picture of it had appeared in a newspaper. She thought her father must be + a very important personage. I didn't undeceive her. At times, you know, + dear, I think so myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I've noticed that,” said Mavick, with a good-natured laugh, in which + Carmen joined, “and those times usually coincide with the times that you + want something specially.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be ashamed to take me up that way. I just wanted to talk + about the coming-out reception. You know I had come over to your opinion + that seventeen was perhaps better than eighteen, considering Evelyn's + maturity. When I was seventeen I was just as good as I am now.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't doubt it,” said Mavick, with another laugh. + </p> + <p> + “But don't you see this affair upsets all our arrangements? It's very + vexatious.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see it exactly. By-the-way, what do you think of the escape + suggested by the Spectrum, in the assertion that you and Evelyn had + arranged to go to Europe? The steamer sails tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Think!” exclaimed Carmen. “Do you think I am going to be run, as you call + it, by the newspapers? They run everything else. I'm not politics, I'm not + an institution, I'm not even a revolution. No, I thank you. It answers my + purpose for them to say we have gone.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you can keep indoors a few days. As to the reception, I had + arranged my business for it. I may be in Mexico or Honolulu the following + winter.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we can't have it now. You see that.” + </p> + <p> + “Carmen, I don't care a rap what the public thinks or says. The child's + got to face the world some time, and look out for herself. I fancy she + will not like it as much as you did.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely. Perhaps I liked it because I had to fight it. Evelyn never + will do that.” + </p> + <p> + “She hasn't the least idea what the world is like.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you be too sure of that, my dear; you don't understand yet what a + woman feels and knows. You think she only sees and thinks what she is + told. The conceit of men is most amusing about this. Evelyn is deeper than + you think. The discrimination of that child sometimes positively frightens + me—how she sees into things. It wouldn't surprise me a bit if she + actually knew her father and mother!” + </p> + <p> + “Then she beats me,” said Mavick, with another laugh, “and I've been at it + a long time. Carmen, just for fun, tell me a little about your early + life.” + </p> + <p> + “Well”—there was a Madonna-like smile on her lips, and she put out + the toe of her slender foot and appeared to study it for a moment—“I + was intended to be a nun.” + </p> + <p> + “Spanish or French?” + </p> + <p> + “Just a plain nun. But mamma would not hear of it. Mamma was just a bit + worldly.” + </p> + <p> + “I never should have suspected it,” said Mavick, with equal gravity. “But + how did you live in those early days, way back there?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” and Carmen looked up with the most innocent, open-eyed expression, + “we lived on our income.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally. We all try to do that.” The tone in Mavick's voice showed that + he gave it up. + </p> + <p> + “But, of course,” and Carmen was lively again, “it's much nicer to have a + big income that's certain than a small one that is uncertain.” + </p> + <p> + “It would seem so.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, deary me, it's such a world! Don't you think, dear, that we have had + enough domestic notoriety for one year?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite. It would do for several.” + </p> + <p> + “And we will put it off a year?” + </p> + <p> + “Arrange as you like.” And Mavick stretched up his arms, half yawned, and + took up another cigar. + </p> + <p> + “It will be such a relief to McDonald. She insisted it was too soon.” And + Carmen whirled out of her chair, went behind her husband, lifted with her + delicate fingers a lock of grayish hair on his forehead, deposited the + lightest kiss there—“Nobody in the world knows how good you are + except me,” and was gone. + </p> + <p> + And the rich man, who had gained everything he wanted in life except + happiness, lighted his cigar and sought refuge in a tale of modern life, + that was, however, too much like his own history to be consoling. + </p> + <p> + It must not be supposed from what she said that Mrs. Mavick stood in fear + of her daughter, but it was only natural that for a woman of the world the + daily contact of a pure mind should be at times inconvenient. This pure + mind was an awful touchstone of conduct, and there was a fear that + Evelyn's ignorance of life would prevent her from making the proper + allowances. In her affectionate and trusting nature, which suspected + little evil anywhere, there was no doubt that her father and mother had + her entire confidence and love. But the likelihood was that she would not + be pliant. Under Miss McDonald's influence she had somewhat abstract + notions of what is right and wrong, and she saw no reason why these should + not be applied in all cases. What her mother would have called policy and + reasonable concessions she would have given different names. For getting + on in the world, this state of mind has its disadvantages, and in the + opinion of practical men, like Mavick, it was necessary to know good and + evil. But it was the girl's power of discernment that bothered her mother, + who used often to wonder where the child came from. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, it must not be supposed that the singular training of + Evelyn had absolutely destroyed her inherited tendencies, or made her as + she was growing into womanhood anything but a very real woman, with the + reserves, the weaknesses, the coquetries, the defenses which are the charm + of her sex. Nor was she so ignorant of life as such a guarded personality + might be thought. Her very wide range of reading had liberalized her mind, + and given her a much wider outlook upon the struggles and passions and + failures and misery of life than many another girl of her age had gained + by her limited personal experience. Those who hold the theory that + experience is the only guide are right as a matter of fact, since every + soul seems determined to try for itself and not to accept the accumulated + wisdom of literature or of experienced advisers; but those who come safely + out of their experiences are generally sound by principle which has been + instilled in youth. But it is useless to moralize. Only the event could + show whether such an abnormal training as Evelyn had received was wise. + </p> + <p> + When Mrs. Mavick went to her daughter's apartments she found Evelyn + reading aloud and Miss McDonald at work on an elaborate piece of Bulgarian + embroidery. + </p> + <p> + “How industrious! What a rebuke to me!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see, mamma, how we could be doing less; I've only an audience of + one, and she is wasting her time.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, carissima, it is settled. It's off for a year.” + </p> + <p> + “The reception? Why so?” + </p> + <p> + “Your father cannot arrange it. He has too much on hand this season, and + may be away.” + </p> + <p> + “There, McDonald, we've got a reprieve,” and Evelyn gave a sigh of relief. + </p> + <p> + The Scotch woman smiled, and only said, “Then I shall have time to finish + this.” + </p> + <p> + Evelyn jumped up, threw herself into her mother's lap, and began to smooth + her hair and pet her. “I'm awfully glad. I'd ever so much rather stay in + than come out. Yes, dear little mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Little?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” And the girl pulled her mother from her chair, and made her stand + up to measure. “See, McDonald, almost an inch taller than mamma, and when + I do my hair on top!” + </p> + <p> + “And see, mamma”—the girl was pirouetting on the floor—“I can + do those steps you do. Isn't it Spanish?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather Spanish-American, I guess. This is the way.” + </p> + <p> + Evelyn clapped her hands. “Isn't that lovely!” + </p> + <p> + “You are only a little brownie, after all.” Her mother was holding her at + arm's—length and studying her critically, wondering if she would + ever be handsome. + </p> + <p> + The girl was slender, but not tall. Her figure had her mother's grace, but + not its suggestion of yielding suppleness. She was an undoubted brunette—complexion + olive, hair very dark, almost black except in the sunlight, and low on her + forehead-chin a little strong, and nose piquant to say the least of it. + Certainly features not regular nor classic. The mouth, larger than her + mother's, had full lips, the upper one short, and admirable curves, strong + in repose, but fascinating when she smiled. A face not handsome, but + interesting. And the eyes made you hesitate to say she was not handsome, + for they were large, of a dark hazel and changeable, eyes that flashed + with merriment, or fell into sadness under the long eyelashes; and it + would not be safe to say that they could not blaze with indignation. Not a + face to go wild about, but when you felt her character through it, a face + very winning in its dark virgin purity. + </p> + <p> + “I do wonder where she came from?” Mrs. Mavick was saying to herself, as + she threw herself upon a couch in her own room and took up the latest + Spanish novel. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX + </h2> + <p> + Celia Howard had been, in a way, Philip's inspiration ever since the days + when they quarreled and made up on the banks of the Deer field. And a + fortunate thing for him it was that in his callow years there was a woman + in whom he could confide. Her sympathy was everything, even if her advice + was not always followed. In the years of student life and preparation they + had not often met, but they were constant and painstaking correspondents. + It was to her that he gave the running chronicle of his life, and poured + out his heart and aspirations. Unconsciously he was going to school to a + woman, perhaps the most important part of his education. For, though in + this way he might never hope to understand woman, he was getting most + valuable knowledge of himself. + </p> + <p> + As a guide, Philip was not long in discovering that Celia was somewhat + uncertain. She kept before him a very high ideal; she expected him to be + distinguished and successful, but, her means varied from time to time. Now + she would have him take one path and now another. And Philip learned to + read in this varying advice the changes in her own experience. There was a + time when she hoped he would be a great scholar: there was no position so + noble as that of a university professor or president. Then she turned + short round and extolled the business life: get money, get a position, and + then you can study, write books, do anything you like and be independent. + Then came a time—this was her last year in college—when + science seemed the only thing. That was really a benefit to mankind: + create something, push discovery, dispel ignorance. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Phil, if you could get people to understand about ventilation, the + necessity of pure air, you would deserve a monument. And, besides—this + is an appeal to your lower nature—science is now the thing that + pays.” Theology she never considered; that was just now too uncertain in + its direction. Law she had finally approved; it was still respectable; it + was a very good waiting-ground for many opportunities, and it did not + absolutely bar him from literature, for which she perceived he had a + sneaking fondness. + </p> + <p> + Philip wondered if Celia was not thinking of the law for herself. She had + tried teaching, she had devoted herself for a time to work in a College + Settlement, she had learned stenography, she had talked of learning + telegraphy, she had been interested in women's clubs, in a civic club, in + the political education of women, and was now a professor of economics in + a girl's college. + </p> + <p> + It finally dawned upon Philip, who was plodding along, man fashion, in one + of the old ruts, feeling his way, like a true American, into the career + that best suited him, that Celia might be a type of the awakened American + woman, who does not know exactly what she wants. To be sure, she wants + everything. She has recently come into an open place, and she is + distracted by the many opportunities. She has no sooner taken up one than + she sees another that seems better, or more important in the development + of her sex, and she flies to that. But nothing, long, seems the best + thing. Perhaps men are in the way, monopolizing all the best things. Celia + had never made a suggestion of this kind, but Philip thought she was + typical of the women who push individualism so far as never to take a dual + view of life. + </p> + <p> + “I have just been,” Celia wrote in one of her letters, when she was an + active club woman, “out West to a convention of the Federation of Women's + Clubs. Such a striking collection of noble, independent women! Handsome, + lots of them, and dressed—oh, my friend, dress is still a part of + it! So different from a man's convention! Cranks? Yes, a few left over. It + was a fine, inspiring meeting. But, honestly, I could not exactly make out + what they were federating about, and what they were going to do when they + got federated. It sort of came over me, I am such a weak sister, that + there is such a lot of work done in this world with no object except the + doing of it.” + </p> + <p> + A more recent letter:—“Do you remember Aunt Hepsy, who used to keep + the little thread-and-needle and candy shop in Rivervale? Such a dear, + sweet, contented old soul! Always a smile and a good word for every + customer. I can see her now, picking out the biggest piece of candy in the + dish that she could afford to give for a little fellow's cent. It never + came over me until lately how much good that old woman did in the world. I + remember what a comfort it was to go and talk with her. Well, I am getting + into a frame of mind to want to be an Aunt Hepsy. There is so much sawdust + in everything—No, I'm not low-spirited. I'm just philosophical—I've + a mind to write a life of Aunt Hepsy, and let the world see what a real + useful life is.” + </p> + <p> + And here is a passage from the latest:—“What an interesting story + your friend—I hope he isn't you friend, for I don't half like him—has + made out of that Mavick girl! If I were the girl's mother I should want to + roast him over the coals. Is there any truth in it? + </p> + <p> + “Of course I read it, as everybody did and read the crawl out, and looked + for more. So it is partly our fault, but what a shame it is, the invasion + of family life! Do tell me, if you happen to see her—the girl—driving + in the Park or anywhere—of course you never will—what she + looks like. I should like to see an unsophisticated millionaire-ess! But + it is an awfully interesting problem, invented or not I'm pretty deep in + psychology these days, and I'd give anything to come in contact with that + girl. You would just see a woman, and you wouldn't know. I'd see a soul. + Dear me, if I'd only had the chance of that Scotch woman! Don't you see, + if we could only get to really know one mind and soul, we should know it + all. I mean scientifically. I know what you are thinking, that all women + have that chance. What you think is impertinent—to the subject.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, the story of Evelyn interested everybody. It was taken up + seriously in the country regions. It absorbed New York gossip for two + days, and then another topic took possession of the mercurial city; but it + was the sort of event to take possession of the country mind. New York + millionaires get more than their share of attention in the country press + at all times, but this romance became the subject of household talk and + church and sewing-circle gossip, and all the women were eager for more + details, and speculated endlessly about the possible character and career + of the girl. + </p> + <p> + Alice wrote Philip from Rivervale that her aunt Patience was very much + excited by it. “'The poor thing,' she said, 'always to have somebody + poking round, seeing every blessed thing you do or don't do; it would + drive me crazy. There is that comfort in not having anything much—you + have yourself. You tell Philip that I hope he doesn't go there often. I've + no objection to his being kind to the poor thing when they meet, and doing + neighborly things, but I do hope he won't get mixed up with that set.' It + is very amusing,” Alice continued, “to hear Patience soliloquize about it + and construct the whole drama. + </p> + <p> + “But you cannot say, Philip, that you are not warned (!) and you know that + Patience is almost a prophet in the way she has of putting things + together. Celia was here recently looking after the little house that has + been rented ever since the death of her mother. I never saw her look so + well and handsome, and yet there was a sort of air about her as if she had + been in public a good deal and was quite capable of taking care of + herself. But she was that way when she was little. + </p> + <p> + “I think she is a good friend of yours. Well, Phil, if you do ever happen + to see that Evelyn in the opera, or anywhere, tell me how she looks and + what she has on—if you can.” + </p> + <p> + The story had not specially interested Philip, except as it was connected + with Brad's newspaper prospects, but letters, like those referred to, + received from time to time, began to arouse a personal interest. Of course + merely a psychological interest, though the talk here and there at + dinner-tables stimulated his desire, at least, to see the subject of them. + But in this respect he was to be gratified, in the usual way things + desired happen in life—that is, by taking pains to bring them about. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Brad came back from his vacation his manner had somewhat changed. + He had the air of a person who stands on firm ground. He felt that he was + a personage. He betrayed this in a certain deliberation of speech, as if + any remark from him now might be important. In a way he felt himself + related to public affairs. + </p> + <p> + In short, he had exchanged the curiosity of the reporter for the + omniscience of the editor. And for a time Philip was restrained from + intruding the subject of the Mavick sensation. However, one day after + dinner he ventured: + </p> + <p> + “I see, Mr. Brad, that your hit still attracts attention.” Mr. Brad looked + inquiringly blank. + </p> + <p> + “I mean about the millionaire heiress. It has excited a wide interest.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that! Yes, it gave me a chance,” replied Brad, who was thinking only + of himself. + </p> + <p> + “I've had several letters about it from the country.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes? Well, I suppose,” said Brad, modestly, “that a little country + notoriety doesn't hurt a person.” + </p> + <p> + Philip did not tell his interlocutor that, so far as he knew, nobody in + the country had ever heard the name of Olin Brad, or knew there was such a + person in existence. But he went on: + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. And, besides, there is a great curiosity to know about the + girl. Did you ever see her?” + </p> + <p> + “Only in public. I don't know Mavick personally, and for reasons,” and Mr. + Brad laughed in a superior manner. “It's easy enough to see her.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “Watch out for a Wagner night, and go to the opera. You'll see where + Mavick's box is in the bill. She is pretty sure to be there, and her + mother. There is nothing special about her; but her mother is still a very + fascinating woman, I can tell you. You'll find her sure on a 'Carmen' + night, but not so sure of the girl.” + </p> + <p> + On this suggestion Philip promptly acted. The extra expense of an + orchestra seat he put down to his duty to keep his family informed of + anything that interested them in the city. It was a “Siegfried” night, and + a full house. To describe it all would be very interesting to Alice. The + Mavick box was empty until the overture was half through. Then appeared a + gentleman who looked as if he were performing a public duty, a lady who + looked as if she were receiving a public welcome, and seated between them + a dark, slender girl, who looked as if she did not see the public at all, + but only the orchestra. + </p> + <p> + Behind them, in the shadow, a middle-aged woman in plainer attire. It must + be the Scotch governess. Mrs. Mavick had her eyes everywhere about the + house, and was graciously bowing to her friends. Mr. Mavick coolly and + unsympathetically regarded the house, quite conscious of it, but as if he + were a little bored. You could not see him without being aware that he was + thinking of other things, probably of far-reaching schemes. People always + used to say of Mavick, when he was young and a clerk in a Washington + bureau, that he looked omniscient. At least the imagination of spectators + invested him with a golden hue, and regarded him through the roseate + atmosphere that surrounds a many-millioned man. The girl had her eyes + always on the orchestra, and was waiting for the opening of the world that + lay behind the drop-curtain. Philip noticed that all the evening Mrs. + Mavick paid very little attention to the stage, except when the rest of + the house was so dark that she could distinguish little in it. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately for Philip, in his character of country reporter, the Mavick + box was near the stage, and he could very well see what was going on in + it, without wholly distracting his attention from Wagner's sometimes very + dimly illuminated creation. + </p> + <p> + There are faces and figures that compel universal attention and + admiration. Commonly there is one woman in a theatre at whom all glances + are leveled. It is a mystery why one face makes only an individual appeal, + and an appeal much stronger than that of one universally admired. The + house certainly concerned itself very little about the shy and dark + heiress in the Mavick box, having with regard to her only a moment's + curiosity. But the face instantly took hold of Philip. He found it more + interesting to read the play in her face than on the stage. He seemed + instantly to have established a chain of personal sympathy with her. So + intense was his regard that it seemed as if she must, if there is anything + in the telepathic theory of the interchange of feeling, have been + conscious of it. That she was, however, unconscious of any influence + reaching her except from the stage was perfectly evident. She was absorbed + in the drama, even when the drama was almost lost in darkness, and only an + occasional grunting ejaculation gave evidence that there was at least + animal life responsive to the continual pleading, suggesting, inspiring + strains of the orchestra. In the semi-gloom and groping of the + under-world, it would seem that the girl felt that mystery of life which + the instruments were trying to interpret. + </p> + <p> + At any rate, Philip could see that she was rapt away into that other world + of the past, to a practical unconsciousness of her immediate surroundings. + Was it the music or the poetic idea that held her? Perhaps only the + latter, for it is Wagner's gift to reach by his creations those who have + little technical knowledge of music. At any rate, she was absorbed, and so + perfectly was the progress of the drama repeated in her face that Philip, + always with the help of the orchestra, could trace it there. + </p> + <p> + But presently something more was evident to this sympathetic student of + her face. She was not merely discovering the poet's world, she was finding + out herself. As the drama unfolded, Philip was more interested in this + phase than in the observation of her enjoyment and appreciation. To see + her eyes sparkle and her cheeks glow with enthusiasm during the sword-song + was one thing, but it was quite another when Siegfried began his idyl, + that nature and bird song of the awakening of the whole being to the + passion of love. Then it was that Evelyn's face had a look of surprise, of + pain, of profound disturbance; it was suffused with blushes, coming and + going in passionate emotion; the eyes no longer blazed, but were softened + in a melting tenderness of sympathy, and her whole person seemed to be + carried into the stream of the great life passion. When it ceased she sank + back in her seat, and blushed still more, as if in fear that some one had + discovered her secret. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards, when Philip had an opportunity of knowing Evelyn Mavick, and + knowing her very well, and to some extent having her confidence, he used + to say to himself that he had little to learn—the soul of the woman + was perfectly revealed to him that night of “Siegfried.” + </p> + <p> + As the curtain went down, Mrs. Mavick, whose attention had not been + specially given to the artists before, was clapping her hands in a great + state of excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you applaud, child?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother,” was all the girl could say, with heaving breast and downcast + eyes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X + </h2> + <p> + All winter long that face seemed to get between Philip and his work. It + was an inspiration to his pen when it ran in the way of literature, but a + distinct damage to progress in his profession. He had seen Evelyn again, + more than once, at the opera, and twice been excited by a passing glimpse + of her on a crisp, sunny afternoon in the Mavick carriage in the + Park-always the same bright, eager face. So vividly personal was the + influence upon him that it seemed impossible that she should not be aware + of it—impossible that she could not know there was such a person in + the world as Philip Burnett. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately youth can create its own world. Between the secluded daughter + of millions and the law clerk was a great gulf, but this did not prevent + Evelyn's face, and, in moments of vanity, Evelyn herself, from belonging + to Philip's world. He would have denied—we have a habit of lying to + ourselves quite as much as to others—that he ever dreamed of + possessing her, but nevertheless she entered into his thoughts and his + future in a very curious way. If he saw himself a successful lawyer, her + image appeared beside him. If his story should gain the public attention, + and his occasional essays come to be talked of, it was Evelyn's interest + and approval that he caught himself thinking about. And he had a + conviction that she was one to be much more interested in him as a man of + letters than as a lawyer. This might be true. In Philip's story, which was + very slowly maturing, the heroine fell in love with a young man simply for + himself, and regardless of the fact that he was poor and had his career to + make. But he knew that if his novel ever got published the critics would + call it a romance, and not a transcript of real life. Had not women ceased + to be romantic and ceased to indulge in vagaries of affection? + </p> + <p> + Was it that Philip was too irresolute to cut either law or literature, and + go in, single-minded, for a fortune of some kind, and a place? Or was it + merely that he had confidence in the winning character of his own + qualities and was biding his time? If it was a question of making himself + acceptable to a woman—say a woman like Evelyn—was it not + belittling to his own nature to plan to win her by what he could make + rather than by what he was? + </p> + <p> + Probably the vision he had of Evelyn counted for very little in his + halting decision. “Why don't you put her into a novel?” asked Mr. Brad one + evening. The suggestion was a shock. Philip conveyed the idea pretty + plainly that he hadn't got so low as that yet. “Ah, you fellows think you + must make your own material. You are higher-toned than old Dante.” The + fact was that Philip was not really halting. Every day he was less and + less in love with the law as it was practiced, and, courting reputation, + he would much rather be a great author than a great lawyer. But he kept + such thoughts to himself. He had inherited a very good stock of + common-sense. Apparently he devoted himself to his office work, and about + the occupation of his leisure hours no one was in his confidence except + Celia, and now and then, when he got something into print, Alice. + Professedly Celia was his critic, but really she was the necessary + appreciator, for probably most writers would come to a standstill if there + was no sympathetic soul to whom they could communicate, while they were + fresh, the teeming fancies of their brains. + </p> + <p> + The winter wore along without any incident worth recording, but still + fruitful for the future, as Philip fondly hoped. And one day chance threw + in his way another sensation. Late in the afternoon of a spring day he was + sent from the office to Mavick's house with a bundle of papers to be + examined and signed. + </p> + <p> + “You will be pretty sure to find him,” said Mr. Sharp, “at home about six. + Wait till you do see him. The papers must be signed and go to Washington + by the night mail.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mavick was in his study, and received Philip very civilly, as the + messenger of his lawyers, and was soon busy in examining the documents, + flinging now and then a short question to Philip, who sat at the table + near him. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly there was a tap at the door, and, not waiting for a summons, a + young girl entered, and stopped after a couple of steps. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I didn't know—” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, dear?” said Mr. Mavick, looking up a moment, and then down at + the papers. + </p> + <p> + “Why, about the coachman's baby. I thought perhaps—” She had a paper + in her hand, and advanced towards the table, and then stopped, seeing that + her father was not alone. + </p> + <p> + Philip rose involuntarily. Mr. Mavick looked up quickly. “Yes, presently. + I've just now got a little business with Mr. Burnett.” + </p> + <p> + It was not an introduction. But for an instant the eyes of the young + people met. It seemed to Philip that it was a recognition. Certainly the + full, sweet eyes were bent on him for the second she stood there, before + turning away and leaving the room. And she looked just as true and sweet + as Philip dreamed she would look at home. He sat in a kind of maze for the + quarter of an hour while Mavick was affixing his signature and giving some + directions. He heard all the directions, and carried away the papers, but + he also carried away something else unknown to the broker. After all, he + found himself reflecting, as he walked down the avenue, the practice of + the law has its good moments! + </p> + <p> + What was there in this trivial incident that so magnified it in Philip's + mind, day after day? Was it that he began to feel that he had established + a personal relation with Evelyn because she had seen him? Nothing had + really happened. Perhaps she had not heard his name, perhaps she did not + carry the faintest image of him out of the room with her. Philip had read + in romances of love at first sight, and he had personal experience of it. + Commonly, in romances, the woman gives no sign of it, does not admit it to + herself, denies it in her words and in her conduct, and never owns it + until the final surrender. “When was the first moment you began to love + me, dear?” “Why, the first moment, that day; didn't you know it then?” + This we are led to believe is common experience with the shy and secretive + sex. It is enough, in a thousand reported cases, that he passed her window + on horseback, and happened to look her way. But with such a look! The + mischief was done. But this foundation was too slight for Philip to build + such a hope on. + </p> + <p> + Looking back, we like to trace great results to insignificant, momentary + incidents—a glance, a word, that turned the current of a life. There + was a definite moment when the thought came to Alexander that he would + conquer the world! Probably there was no such moment. The great Alexander + was restless, and at no initial instant did he conceive his scheme of + conquest. Nor was it one event that set him in motion. We confound events + with causes. It happened on such a day. Yes, but it might have happened on + another. But if Philip had not been sent on that errand to Mavick probably + Evelyn would never have met him. What nonsense this is, and what an + unheroic character it makes Philip! Is it supposable that, with such a + romance as he had developed about the girl, he would not some time have + come near her, even if she had been locked up with all the bars and bolts + of a safety deposit? + </p> + <p> + The incident of this momentary meeting was, however, of great consequence. + There is no such feeder of love as the imagination. And fortunate it was + for Philip that his romance was left to grow in the wonder-working process + of his own mind. At first there had been merely a curiosity in regard to a + person whose history and education had been peculiar. Then the sight of + her had raised a strange tumult in his breast, and his fancy began to play + about her image, seen only at a distance and not many times, until his + imagination built up a being of surpassing loveliness, and endowed with + all the attractions that the poets in all ages have given to the sex that + inspires them. But this sort of creation in the mind becomes vague, and + related to literature only, unless it is sustained by some reality. Even + Petrarch must occasionally see Laura at the church door, and dwell upon + the veiled dreamer that passed and perhaps paused a moment to regard him + with sad eyes. Philip, no doubt, nursed a genuine passion, which grew into + an exquisite ideal in the brooding of a poetic mind, but it might in time + have evaporated into thin air, remaining only as an emotional and + educational experience. But this moment in Mr. Mavick's library had given + a solid body to his imaginations, and a more definite turn to his thought + of her. + </p> + <p> + If, in some ordinary social chance, Philip had encountered the heiress, + without this previous wonderworking of his imagination in regard to her, + the probability is that he would have seen nothing especially to + distinguish her from the other girls of her age and newness in social + experience. Certainly the thought that she was the possessor of uncounted + millions would have been, on his side, an insuperable barrier to any + advance. But the imagination works wonders truly, and Philip saw the woman + and not the heiress. She had become now a distinct personality; to be + desired above all things on earth, and that he should see her again he had + no doubt. + </p> + <p> + This thought filled his mind, and even when he was not conscious of it + gave a sort of color to life, refined his perceptions, and gave him almost + sensuous delight in the masterpieces of poetry which had formerly appealed + only to his intellectual appreciation of beauty. + </p> + <p> + He had not yet come to a desire to share his secret with any confidant, + but preferred to be much alone and muse on it, creating a world which was + without evil, without doubt, undisturbed by criticism. In this so real + dream it was the daily office work that seemed unreal, and the company and + gossip of his club a kind of vain show. He began to frequent the + picture-galleries, where there was at least an attempt to express + sentiment, and to take long walks to the confines of the city-confines + fringed with all the tender suggestions of the opening spring. Even the + monotonous streets which he walked were illumined in his eyes, glorified + by the fullness of life and achievement. “Yes,” he said again and again, + as he stood on the Heights, in view of the river, the green wall of Jersey + and the great metropolis spread away to the ocean gate, “it is a beautiful + city! And the critics say it is commonplace and vulgar.” Dear dreamer, it + is a beautiful city, and for one reason and another a million of people + who have homes there think so. But take out of it one person, and it would + have for you no more interest than any other huge assembly of ugly houses. + How, in a lover's eyes, the woman can transfigure a city, a landscape, a + country! + </p> + <p> + Celia had come up to town for the spring exhibitions, and was lodging at + the Woman's Club. Naturally Philip saw much of her, indeed gave her all + his time that the office did not demand. Her company was always for him a + keen delight, an excitement, and in its way a rest. For though she always + criticised, she did not nag, and just because she made no demands, nor + laid any claims on him, nor ever reproached him for want of devotion, her + society was delightful and never dull. They dined together at the Woman's + Club, they experimented on the theatres, they visited the galleries and + the picture-shops, they took little excursions into the suburbs and came + back impressed with the general cheapness and shabbiness, and they talked—talked + about all they saw, all they had read, and something of what they thought. + What was wanting to make this charming camaraderie perfect? Only one + thing. + </p> + <p> + It may have occurred to Philip that Celia had not sufficient respect for + his opinions; she regarded them simply as opinions, not as his. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon, in the Metropolitan Picture-Gallery, Philip had been + expressing enthusiasm for some paintings that Celia thought more + sentimental than artistic, and this reminded her that he was getting into + a general way of admiring everything. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't use, Philip, to care so much for pictures.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I've been seeing more.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't say you like that? Look at the drawing.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it tells the story.” + </p> + <p> + “A story is nothing; it's the way it's told. This is not well told.” + </p> + <p> + “It pleases me. Look at that girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she is domestic. I admit that. But I'm not sure I do not prefer an + impressionistic girl, whom you can't half see, to such a thorough + bread-and-butter miss as this.” + </p> + <p> + “Which would you rather live with?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not obliged to live with either. In fact, I'd rather live with + myself. If it's art, I want art; if it's cooking and sewing, I want + cooking and sewing. If the artist knew enough, he'd paint a woman instead + of a cook.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't care for real life?” + </p> + <p> + “Real life! There is no such thing. You are demonstrating that. You + transform this uninteresting piece of domesticity into an ideal woman, + ennobling her surroundings. She doesn't do it. She is level with them.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be a dreary world if we didn't idealize things.” + </p> + <p> + “So it would. And that is what I complain of in such 'art' as this. I + don't know what has got into you, Phil. I never saw you so exuberant. You + are pleased with everything. Have you had a rise in the office? Have you + finished your novel?” + </p> + <p> + “Neither. No rise. No novel. But Tweedle is getting friendly. Threw an + extra job in my way the other day. Do you think I'd better offer my novel, + when it is done, to Tweedle?” + </p> + <p> + “Tweedle, indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, one of our clients is one of the great publishing firms, and + Tweedle often dines with the publisher.” + </p> + <p> + “For shame, Phil!” + </p> + <p> + Philip laughed. “At any rate, that is no meaner than a suggestion of + Brad's. He says if I will just weave into it a lot of line scenery, and + set my people traveling on the great trunk, stopping off now and then at + an attractive branch, the interested railroads would gladly print it and + scatter it all over the country.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt,” said Celia, sinking down upon a convenient seat. “I begin to + feel as if there were no protection for anything. And, Phil, that great + monster of a Mavick, who is eating up the country, isn't he a client + also?” + </p> + <p> + “Occasionally only. A man like Mavick has his own lawyers and judges.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever see him?” + </p> + <p> + “Just glimpses.” + </p> + <p> + “And that daughter of his, about whom such a fuss was made, I suppose you + never met her?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as I wrote you, at the opera; saw her in her box.” + </p> + <p> + “And—?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she's rather a little thing; rather dark, I told you that; seems + devoted to music.” + </p> + <p> + “And you didn't tell what she wore.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what they all wear. Something light and rather fluffy.” + </p> + <p> + “Just like a man. Is she pretty?” + </p> + <p> + “Ye-e-s; has that effect. You'd notice her eyes.” If Philip had been frank + he would have answered, + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. She's simply adorable,” and Celia would have understood all + about it. + </p> + <p> + “And probably doesn't know anything. Yes, highly educated? I heard that. + But I'm getting tired of 'highly educated'; I see so many of them. I've + been making them now for years. Perhaps I'm one of them. And where am I? + Don't interrupt. I tell you it is a relief to come across a sweet, womanly + ignoramus. What church does she go to?” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “That Mavick girl.” + </p> + <p> + “St. Thomas', I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “That's good—that's devotional. I suppose you go there too, being + brought up a Congregationalist?” + </p> + <p> + “At vespers, sometimes. But, Celia, what is the matter with you? I thought + you didn't care—didn't care to belong to anything?” + </p> + <p> + “I? I belong to everything. Didn't I write you reams about my studies in + psychology? I've come to one conclusion. There are only two persons in the + world who stand on a solid foundation, the Roman Catholic and the + Agnostic. The Roman Catholic knows everything, the Agnostic doesn't know + anything.” + </p> + <p> + Philip was never certain when the girl was bantering him; nor, when she + was in earnest, how long she would remain in that mind and mood. So he + ventured, humorously: + </p> + <p> + “The truth is, Celia, that you know too much to be either. You are what + they call emancipated.” + </p> + <p> + “Emancipated!” And Celia sat up energetically, as if she were now really + interested in the conversation. “Become the slave of myself instead of the + slave of somebody else! That's the most hateful thing to be, emancipated. + I never knew a woman who said she was emancipated who wasn't in some + ridiculous folly or another. Now, Phil, I'm going to tell you something. I + can tell you. You know I've been striving to have a career, to get out of + myself somehow, and have a career for myself. Well, today—mind, I + don't say tomorrow”—(and there was a queer little smile on her lips)—“I + think I will just try to be good to people and things in general, in a + human way.” + </p> + <p> + “And give up education?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. I get my living by education, just as you do, or hope to do, by + law or by letters; it's all the same. But wait. I haven't finished what I + was going to say. The more I go into psychology, trying to find out about + my mind and mind generally, the more mysterious everything is. Do you + know, Phil, that I'm getting into the supernatural? You can't help running + into it. For me, I am not side-tracked by any of the nonsense about + magnetism and telepathy and mind-reading and other psychic + imponderabilities. Isn't it queer that the further we go into science the + deeper we go into mystery? + </p> + <p> + “Now, don't be shocked, I mean it reverently, just as an illustration. Do + you think any one knows really anything more about the operation in the + world of electricity than he does about the operation of the Holy Ghost? + And yet people talk about science as if it were something they had made + themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Celia—” + </p> + <p> + “No, I've talked enough. We are in this world and not in some other, and I + have to make my living. Let's go into the other room and see the old + masters. They, at least, knew how to paint—to paint passion and + character; some of them could paint soul. And then, Phil, I shall be + hungry. Talking about the mind always makes me hungry.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI + </h2> + <p> + Philip was always welcome at his uncle's house in Rivervale. It was, of + course, his home during his college life, and since then he was always + expected for his yearly holiday. The women of the house made much of him, + waited on him, deferred to him, petted him, with a flattering mingling of + tenderness to a little boy and the respect due to a man who had gone into + the world. Even Mr. Maitland condescended to a sort of equality in + engaging Philip in conversation about the state of the country and the + prospects of business in New York. + </p> + <p> + It was July. When Philip went to sleep at night—he was in the front + chamber reserved for guests—the loud murmur of the Deerfield was in + his ears, like a current bearing him away into sweet sleep and dreams in a + land of pleasant adventures. Only in youth come such dreams. Later on the + sophisticated mind, left to its own guidance in the night, wanders amid + the complexities of life, calling up in confusion scenes long forgotten or + repented of, images only registered by a sub-conscious process, dreams to + perplex, irritate, and excite. + </p> + <p> + In the morning the same continuous murmur seemed to awake him into a + peaceful world. Through the open window came in the scents of summer, the + freshness of a new day. How sweet and light was the air! It was indeed the + height of summer. The corn, not yet tasseled, stood in green flexible + ranks, moved by the early breeze. In the river-meadows haying had just + begun. Fields of timothy and clover, yellowing to ripeness, took on a + fresh bloom from the dew, and there was an odor of new-mown grass from the + sections where the scythes had been. He heard the call of the crow from + the hill, the melody of the bobolink along the meadow-brook; indeed, the + birds of all sorts were astir, skimming along the ground or rising to the + sky, keeping watch especially over the garden and the fruit-trees, + carrying food to their nests, or teaching their young broods to fly and to + chirp the songs of summer. And from the woodshed the shrill note of the + scythe under the action of the grindstone. No such vivid realization of + summer as that. + </p> + <p> + Philip stole out the unused front door without disturbing the family. + Whither? Where would a boy be likely to go the first thing? To the barn, + the great cavernous barn, its huge doors now wide open, the stalls vacant, + the mows empty, the sunlight sifting in through the high shadowy spaces. + How much his life had been in that barn! How he had stifled and scrambled + mowing hay in those lofts! On the floor he had hulled heaps of corn, + thrashed oats with a flail—a noble occupation—and many a rainy + day had played there with girls and boys who could not now exactly + describe the games or well recall what exciting fun they were. There were + the racks where he put the fodder for cattle and horses, and there was the + cutting-machine for the hay and straw and for slicing the frozen turnips + on cold winter mornings. + </p> + <p> + In the barn-yard were the hens, just as usual, walking with measured step, + scratching and picking in the muck, darting suddenly to one side with an + elevated wing, clucking, chattering, jabbering endlessly about nothing. + They did not seem to mind him as he stood in the open door. But the + rooster, in his oriental iridescent plumage, jumped upon a fence-post and + crowed defiantly, in warning that this was his preserve. They seemed like + the same hens, yet Philip knew they were all strangers; all the hens and + flaunting roosters he knew had long ago gone to Thanksgiving. The hen is, + or should be, an annual. It is never made a pet. It forms no attachments. + Man is no better acquainted with the hen, as a being, than he was when the + first chicken was hatched. Its business is to live a brief chicken life, + lay, and be eaten. And this reminded Philip that his real occupation was + hunting hens' eggs. And this he did, in the mows, in the stalls, under the + floor-planks, in every hidden nook. The hen's instinct is to be orderly, + and have a secluded nest of her own, and bring up a family. But in such a + communistic body it is a wise hen who knows her own chicken. Nobody denies + to the hen maternal instincts or domestic proclivities, but what an ill + example is a hen community! + </p> + <p> + And then Philip climbed up the hill, through the old grass-plot and the + orchard, to the rocks and the forest edge, and the great view. It had more + meaning to him than when he was a boy, and it was more beautiful. In a + certain peaceful charm, he had seen nothing anywhere in the world like it. + Partly this was because his boyish impressions, the first fresh + impressions of the visible world, came back to him; but surely it was very + beautiful. More experienced travelers than Philip felt its unique charm. + </p> + <p> + When he descended, Alice was waiting to breakfast with him. Mrs. Maitland + declared, with an approving smile on her placid, aging face, that he was + the same good-for-nothing boy. But Alice said, as she sat down to the + little table with Philip, “It is different, mother, with us city folks.” + They were in the middle room, and the windows opened to the west upon the + river-meadows and the wooded hills beyond, and through one a tall + rose-bush was trying to thrust its fragrant bloom. + </p> + <p> + What a dainty breakfast! Alice flushed with pleasure. It was so good of + him to come to them. Had he slept well? Did it seem like home at all? + Philip's face showed that it was home without the need of saying so. Such + coffee-yes, a real aroma of the berry! Just a little more, would he have? + And as Alice raised the silver pitcher, there was a deep dimple in her + sweet cheek. How happy she was! And then the butter, so fresh and cool, + and the delicious eggs—by the way, he had left a hatful in the + kitchen as he came in. Alice explained that she did not make the eggs. And + then there was the journey, the heat in the city, the grateful sight of + the Deerfield, the splendid morning, the old barn, the watering-trough, + the view from the hill everything just as it used to be. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Phil, it is so nice to have you here,” and there were tears in + Alice's eyes, she was so happy. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast Philip strolled down the country road through the village. + How familiar was every step of the way!—the old houses jutting out + at the turns in the road; the glimpse of the river beyond the little + meadow where Captain Rice was killed; the spring under the ledge over + which the snap-dragon grew; the dilapidated ranks of fence smothered in + vines and fireweeds; the cottages, with flower-pots in front; the stores, + with low verandas ornamented with boxes and barrels; the academy in its + green on the hill; the old bridge over which the circus elephant dared not + walk; the new and the old churches, with rival steeples; and, not + familiar, the new inn. + </p> + <p> + And he knew everybody, young and old, at doorways, in the fields or + gardens, and had for every one a hail and a greeting. How he enjoyed it + all, and his self-consciousness added to his pleasure, as he swung along + in his well-fitting city clothes, broad-shouldered and erect—it is + astonishing how much a tailor can do for a man who responds to his + efforts. It is a pleasure to come across such a hero as this in real life, + and not have to invent him, as the saying is, out of the whole cloth. + Philip enjoyed the world, and he enjoyed himself, because it was not quite + his old self, the farmer's boy going on an errand. There must be knowledge + all along the street that he was in the great law office of Hunt, Sharp + & Tweedle. And, besides, Philip's name must be known to all the + readers of magazines in the town as a writer, a name in more than one list + of “contributors.” That was fame. Translated, however, into country + comprehension it was something like this, if he could have heard the + comments after he had passed by: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's Phil Burnett, sure enough; but I'd hardly know him; spruced + up mightily. I wonder what he's at?” + </p> + <p> + “I heard he was down in New York trying to law it. I heard he's been + writin' some for newspapers. Accordin' to his looks, must pay a durn sight + better'n farmin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I always said that boy wa'n't no skeezics.” + </p> + <p> + Almost the first question Philip asked Alice on his return was about the + new inn, the Peacock Inn. + </p> + <p> + “There seemed a good deal of stir about it as I passed.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I forgot to tell you about it. It's the great excitement. Rivervale + is getting known. The Mavicks are there. I hear they've taken pretty much + the whole of it.” + </p> + <p> + “The Mavicks? + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the New York Mavicks, that you wrote us about, that were in the + paper.” + </p> + <p> + “How long have they been there?” + </p> + <p> + “A week. There is Mrs. Mavick and her daughter, and the governess, and two + maids, and a young fellow in uniform—yes, livery—and a + coachman in the same, and a stableful of horses and carriages. It upset + the village like a circus. And they say there's a French chef in white cap + and apron, who comes to the side-door and jabbers to the small boys like + fireworks.” + </p> + <p> + “How did it come about?” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally, I guess; a city family wanting a quiet place for summer in the + country. But you will laugh. Patience first discovered it. One day, + sitting at the window, she saw a two-horse buggy driven by the landlord of + the Peacock, and a gentleman by his side. 'Well, I wonder who that is-city + man certainly. And wherever is he going? May be a railroad man. But there + is nothing the matter with the railroad. Shouldn't wonder if he is going + to see the tunnel. If it was just that, the landlord wouldn't drive him; + he'd send a man. And they keep stopping and pointing and looking round. + No, it isn't the railroad, it's scenery. And what can a man like that want + with scenery? + </p> + <p> + “He does look like a railroad man. It may be tunnel, but it isn't all + tunnel. When the team came back in the afternoon, Patience was again at + the window; she had heard meantime from Jabez that a city man was stopping + at the Peacock. There he goes, and looking round more than ever. They've + stopped by the bridge and the landlord is pointing out. It's not tunnel, + it's scenery. I tell you, he is a city boarder. Not that he cares about + scenery; it's for his family. City families are always trying to find a + grand new place, and he has heard of Rivervale and the Peacock Inn. Maybe + the tunnel had something to do with it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it's like second sight.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Patience says it's just judgment. And she generally hits it. At any + rate, the family is here.” + </p> + <p> + The explanation of their being there—it seemed to Philip + providential—was very simple. Mr. Mavick had plans about the Hoosac + Tunnel that required him to look at it. Mrs. Mavick took advantage of this + to commission him to look at a little inn in a retired village of which + she had heard, and to report on scenery and climate. Warm days and cool + nights and simplicity was her idea. Mavick reported that the place seemed + made for the family. + </p> + <p> + Evelyn was not yet out, but she was very nearly out, and after the late + notoriety Mrs. Mavick dreaded the regular Newport season. And, in the mood + of the moment, she was tired of the Newport palace. She always said that + she liked simplicity—a common failing among people who are not + compelled to observe it. Perhaps she thought she was really fond of rural + life and country ways. As she herself said, + </p> + <p> + “If you have a summer cottage at Newport or Lenox, it is necessary to go + off somewhere and rest.” And then it would be good for Evelyn to live + out-of-doors and see the real country, and, as for herself, as she looked + in the mirror, “I shall drink milk and go to bed early. Henderson used to + say that a month in New Hampshire made another woman of me.” + </p> + <p> + Oh, to find a spot where we could be undisturbed, alone and unknown. That + was the program. But Carmen simply could not be anywhere content if she + were unnoticed. It was not so easy to give up daily luxury, and habits of + ease at the expense of attendants, or the ostentation which had become a + second nature. Therefore the “establishment” went along with her to + Rivervale, and the shy, modest little woman, who had dropped down into the + country simplicity that she so dearly loved, greatly enjoyed the sensation + that her coming produced. It needed no effort on her part to produce the + sensation. The carriage, and coachman and footman in livery, would have + been sufficient; and then the idea of one family being rich enough to take + the whole hotel! + </p> + <p> + The liveries, the foreign cook in his queer cap and apron, and all the + goings-on at the Peacock were the inexhaustible topic of talk in every + farmhouse for ten miles around. Rivervale was a self-respecting town, and + principled against luxury and self-indulgence, and judged with a just and + severe judgment the world of fashion and of the grasping, wicked + millionaires. And now this world with all its vain show had plumped down + in the midst of them. Those who had traveled and seen the ostentation of + cities smiled a superior smile at the curiosity and wonder exhibited, but + even those who had never seen the like were cautious about letting their + surprise appear. Especially in the presence of fashion and wealth would + the independent American citizen straighten his backbone, reassuring + himself that he was as good as anybody. To be sure, people flew to windows + when the elegant equipage dashed by, and everybody found frequent occasion + to drive or walk past the Peacock Inn. It was only the novelty of it, in a + place that rather lacked novelties. + </p> + <p> + And yet there prevailed in the community a vague sense that millions were + there, and a curious expectation of some individual benefit from them. All + the young berry-pickers were unusually active, and poured berries into the + kitchen door of the inn. There was not a housewife who was not a little + more anxious about the product of her churning; not a farmer who did not + think that perhaps cord-wood would rise, that there would be a better + demand for garden “sass,” and more market for chickens, and who did not + regard with more interest his promising colt. When he drove to the village + his rig was less shabby and slovenly in appearance. The young fellows who + prided themselves upon a neat buggy and a fast horse made their turnouts + shine, and dashed past the inn with a self-conscious air. Even the stores + began to “slick up” and arrange their miscellaneous notions more + attractively, and one of them boldly put in a window a placard, “Latest + New York Style.” When the family went to the Congregational church on + Sunday not the slightest notice was taken of them—though every woman + could have told to the last detail what the ladies wore—but some of + the worshipers were for the first time a little nervous about the + performance of the choir, and the deacons heard the sermon chiefly with + reference to what a city visitor would think of it. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mavick was quite equal to the situation. In the church she was + devout, in the village she was affable and friendly. She made + acquaintances right and left, and took a simple interest in everybody and + everything. She was on easy terms with the landlord, who declared, “There + is a woman with no nonsense in her.” She chatted with the farmers who + stopped at the inn door, she bought things at the stores that she did not + want, and she speedily discovered Aunt Hepsy, and loved to sit with her in + the little shop and pick up the traditions and the gossip of the + neighborhood. And she did not confine her angelic visits to the village. + On one pretense and another she made her way into every farmhouse that + took her fancy, penetrated the kitchens and dairies, and got, as she told + McDonald, into the inner life of the people. + </p> + <p> + She must see the grave of Captain Moses Rice. And on this legitimate + errand she one day carried her fluttering attractiveness and patchouly + into the Maitland house. Mrs. Maitland was civil, but no more. Alice was + civil but reserved—a great many people, she said, came to see the + graves in the old orchard. But Mrs. Mavick was not a bit abashed. She + expressed herself delighted with everything. It was such a rest, such a + perfectly lovely country, and everybody was so hospitable! And Aunt Hepsy + had so interested her in the history of the region! But it was difficult + to get her talk responded to. + </p> + <p> + However, when Miss Patience came in she made better headway. She had heard + so much of Miss Maitland's apartments. She herself was interested in + decorations. She had tried to do something in her New York home. But there + were so many ideas and theories, and it was so hard to be natural and + artificial at the same time. She had no doubt she could get some new ideas + from Miss Maitland. Would it be asking too much to see her apartments? She + really felt like a stranger nowhere in Rivervale. Patience was only too + delighted, and took her into her museum of natural history, art, religion, + and vegetation. + </p> + <p> + “She might have gone to the grave-yard without coming into the house,” + Alice remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well,” said her mother, “I think she is very amusing. You shouldn't + be so exclusive, Alice.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, I do believe she paints.” + </p> + <p> + With Patience, Mrs. Mavick felt on surer ground. + </p> + <p> + “How curious, how very curious and delightful it is! Such knowledge of + nature, such art in arrangement.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I just put them up,” said Patience, “as I thought they ought by + rights to be put up.” + </p> + <p> + “That's it. And you have combined everything here. You have given me an + idea. In our house we have a Japan room, and an Indian room, and a Chinese + room, and an Otaheite, and I don't know what—Egyptian, Greek, and + not one American, not a really American. That is, according to American + ideas, for you have everything in these two rooms. I shall write to Mr. + Mavick.” (Mr. Mavick never received the letter.) + </p> + <p> + When she came away it was with a profusion of thanks, and repeated + invitations to drop in at the inn. Alice accompanied her to the first + stone that marked the threshold of the side door, and was bowing her away, + when Mr. Philip swung over the fence by the wood-shed, with a shot-gun on + his shoulder, and swinging in his left hand a gray squirrel by its bushy + tail, and was immediately in front of the group. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” involuntarily from Mrs. Mavick. An introduction was inevitable. + </p> + <p> + “My cousin, Mr. Burnett, Mrs. Mavick.” Philip raised his cap and bowed. + </p> + <p> + “A hunter, I see.” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly, madam. In vacations I like to walk in the woods with a gun.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are not—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Philip, smiling, “unfortunately I cannot do this all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “You are of the city, then?” + </p> + <p> + “With the firm of Hunt, Sharp & Tweedle.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my husband knows them, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen Mr. Mavick,” and Philip bowed again. + </p> + <p> + “How lucky!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mavick had an eye for a fine young fellow—she never denied that—and + Philip's manly figure and easy air were not lost on her. Presently she + said: + </p> + <p> + “We are here for a good part of the summer. Mr. Mavick's business keeps + him in the city and we have to poke about a good deal alone. Now, Miss + Alice, I am so glad I have met your cousin. Perhaps he will show us some + of the interesting places and the beauties of the country he knows so + well.” And she looked sideways at Philip. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he knows the country,” said Alice, without committing herself. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure I shall be delighted to do what I can for you whenever you need + my services,” said Philip, who had reasons for wishing to know the Mavicks + which Alice did not share. + </p> + <p> + “That's so good of you! Excursions, picnics oh, we will arrange. You must + come and help me arrange. And I hope,” with a smile to Alice, “you can + persuade your cousin to join us sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + Alice bowed, they all bowed, and Mrs. Mavick said au revoir, and went + swinging her parasol down the driveway. Then she turned and called back, + “This is the first long walk I have taken.” And then she said to herself, + “Rather stiff, except the young man and the queer old maid. But what a + pretty girl the younger must have been ten years ago! These country + flowers!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Mavick thought herself fortunate in finding, in the social wilderness + of Rivervale, such a presentable young gentleman as Philip. She had + persuaded herself that she greatly enjoyed her simple intercourse with the + inhabitants, and she would have said that she was in deep sympathy with + their lives. No doubt in New York she would relate her summer adventures + as something very amusing, but for the moment this adaptable woman seemed + to herself in a very ingenuous, receptive, and sympathetic state of mind. + Still, there was a limit to the entertaining power of Aunt Hepsy, which + was perceived when she began to repeat her annals of the neighborhood, and + to bring forward again and again the little nuggets of wisdom which she + had evolved in the small circle of her experience. And similarly Mrs. + Mavick became aware that there was a monotony in the ideas brought forward + by the farmers and the farmers' wives, whether in the kitchen or the best + room, which she lighted up by her gracious presence, that it was possible + to be tired of the most interesting “peculiarities” when once their + novelty was exhausted, and that so-called “characters” in the country fail + to satisfy the requirements of intimate or long companionship. Their world + is too narrowly circumscribed. + </p> + <p> + The fact that Philip was a native of the place, and so belonged to a world + that was remote from her own, made her free to seek his aid in making the + summer pass agreeably without incurring any risk of social obligations. + Besides, when she had seen more of him, she experienced a good deal of + pleasure in his company. His foreign travel, his reading, his life in the + city, offered many points of mutual interest, and it was a relief to her + to get out of the narrow range of topics in the provincial thought, and to + have her allusions understood. Philip, on his part, was not slow to see + this, or to perceive that in the higher intellectual ranges, the serious + topics which occupied the attention of the few cultivated people in the + neighborhood, Mrs. Mavick had little interest or understanding, though + there was nothing she did not profess an interest in when occasion + required. Philip was not of a suspicious nature, and it may not have + occurred to him that Mrs. Mavick was simply amusing herself, as she would + do with any agreeable man, young or old, who fell in her way, and would + continue to do so if she reached the age of ninety. + </p> + <p> + On the contrary, it never seemed to occur to Mrs. Mavick, who was + generally suspicious, that Philip was making himself agreeable to the + mother of Evelyn. In her thought Evelyn was still a child, in + leading-strings, and would be till she was formally launched, and the + social gulf between the great heiress and the law clerk and poor writer + was simply impassable. All of which goes to show that the most astute + women are not always the wisest. + </p> + <p> + To one person in Rivervale the coming of Mrs. Mavick and her train of + worldliness was unwelcome. It disturbed the peaceful simplicity of the + village, and it was likely to cloud her pleasure in Philip's visit. She + felt that Mrs. Mavick was taking him away from the sweet serenity of their + life, and that in everything she said or did there was an element of + unrest and excitement. She was careful, however, not to show any of this + apprehension to Philip; she showed it only by an increased affectionate + interest in him and his concerns, and in trying to make the old home more + dear to him. Mrs. Mavick was loud in her praise of Alice to her cousin, + and sought to win her confidence, but she was, after all, a little shy of + her, and probably would have characterized her to a city friend as a sort + of virgin in the Bible. + </p> + <p> + It so happened that day after day went by without giving Philip anything + more than passing glimpses of Evelyn, when she was driving with her mother + or her governess. Yet Rivervale never seemed so ravishingly beautiful to + all his senses. Surely it was possessed by a spirit of romance and poetry, + which he had never perceived before, and he wasted a good deal of time in + gazing on the river, on the gracious meadows, on the graceful contours of + the hills. When he was a lad, in the tree-top, there had been something + stimulating and almost heroic in the scene, which awakened his ambition. + Now it was the idyllic beauty that took possession of him, transformed as + it was by the presence of a woman, that supreme interpreter of nature to a + youth. And yet scarcely a woman—rather a vision of a girl, + impressible still to all the influences of such a scene and to the most + delicate suggestions of unfolding life. Probably he did not analyze this + feeling, but it was Evelyn he was thinking of when he admired the + landscape, breathed with exhilaration the fresh air, and watched the white + clouds sail along the blue vault; and he knew that if she were suddenly to + leave the valley all the light would go out of it and the scene would be + flat to his eyes and torturing to his memory. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mavick he encountered continually in the village. He had taken many + little strolls with her to this or that pretty point of view, they had + exchanged reminiscences of foreign travel, and had dipped a little into + current popular books, so that they had come to be on easy, friendly + terms. Philip's courtesy and deference, and a certain wit and humor of + suggestion applied to ordinary things, put him more and more on a good + footing with her, so much so that she declared to McDonald that really + young Burnett was a genuine “find” in the country. + </p> + <p> + It seems a pity that the important events in our lives are so commonplace. + Philip's meeting with Evelyn, so long thought of and dramatized in his + mind, was not in the least as he had imagined it. When one morning he went + to the Peacock Inn at the summons of Mrs. Mavick, in order to lay out a + plan of campaign, he found Evelyn and her governess seated on the veranda, + with their books. It was Evelyn who rose first and came forward, without, + so far as Philip could see, the least embarrassment of recognition. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Burnett? Mamma will be here in a moment. This is our friend, Miss + McDonald.” + </p> + <p> + The girl's morning costume was very simple, and in her short walking-skirt + she seemed younger even than in the city. She spoke and moved—Philip + noticed that—without the least self-consciousness, and she had a way + of looking her interlocutor frankly in the eyes, or, as Philip expressed + it, “flashing” upon him. + </p> + <p> + Philip bowed to the governess, and, still standing and waving his hand + towards the river, hoped they liked Rivervale, and then added: + </p> + <p> + “I see you can read in the country.” + </p> + <p> + “We pretend to,” said Evelyn, who had resumed her seat and indicated a + chair for Philip, “but the singing of that river, and the bobolinks in the + meadow, and the light on the hills are almost too much for us. Don't you + think, McDonald, it is like Scotland?” + </p> + <p> + “It would be,” the governess replied, “if it rained when it didn't mist, + and there were moors and heather, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I didn't mean all that, but a feeling like that, sweet and retired + and sort of lonesome?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps Miss McDonald means,” said Philip, “that there isn't much to feel + here except what you see.” + </p> + <p> + Miss McDonald looked sharply around at Philip and remarked: “Yes, that's + just it. It is very lovely, like almost any outdoors, if you will give + yourself up to it. You remember, Evelyn, how fascinating the Arizona + desert was? But there was a romantic addition to the colored desolation + because the Spaniards and the Jesuits had been there. Now this place lacks + traditions, legends, romance. You have to bring your romance with you.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is the reason you read here?” + </p> + <p> + “One reason. Especially romances. This charming scenery and the summer + sounds of running water and birds make a nice accompaniment to the + romance.” + </p> + <p> + “But mamma says,” Evelyn interrupted, “there is plenty of legend here, and + tradition and flavor, Indians and early settlers, and even Aunt Hepsy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I confess they don't appeal to me. And as for Indians, Parkman's + descriptions of those savages made me squirm. And I don't believe there + was much more romance about the early settlers than about their + descendants. Isn't it true, Mr. Burnett, that you must have a human + element to make any country interesting?” + </p> + <p> + Philip glanced at Evelyn, whose bright face was kindled with interest in + the discussion, and thought, “Good heavens! if there is not human interest + here, I don't know where to look for it,” but he only said: + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless.” + </p> + <p> + “And why don't you writers do something about it? It is literature that + does it, either in Scotland or Judea.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Philip, stoutly, “they are doing something. I could name half + a dozen localities, even sections of country, that travelers visit with + curiosity just because authors have thrown that glamour over them. But it + is hard to create something out of nothing. It needs time.” + </p> + <p> + “And genius,” Miss McDonald interjected. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, but it took time to transform a Highland sheep-stealer into a + romantic personage.” + </p> + <p> + Miss McDonald laughed. “That is true. Take a modern instance. Suppose + Evangeline had lived in this valley! Or some simple Gretchen about whose + simple story all the world is in sympathy!” + </p> + <p> + “Or,” thought Philip, “some Evelyn.” But he replied, looking at Evelyn, “I + believe that any American community usually resents being made the scene + of a romance, especially if it is localized by any approach to reality.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't that the fault mostly of the writer, who vulgarizes his material?” + </p> + <p> + “The realists say no. They say that people dislike to see themselves as + they are.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely,” said Miss McDonald; “no one sees himself as others see him, + and probably the poet who expressed the desire to do so was simply + attitudinizing.—[Robert Burns: 'O wha gift the Giftie gie us; to see + o'rselves as others see us.' Ed.]—By the way, Mr. Burnett, you know + there is one place of sentiment, religious to be sure, not far from here. + I hope we can go some day to see the home of the 'Mountain Miller.'” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know the place. It is beyond the river, up that steep road running + into the sky, in the next adjoining hill town. I doubt if you find any one + there who lays it much to heart. But you can see the mill.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the Mountain Miller?” asked Evelyn. + </p> + <p> + “A tract that, when I was a girl,” answered Miss McDonald, “used to be + bound up with 'The Dairyman's Daughter' and 'The Shepherd of Salisbury + Plain.' It was the first thing that interested me in New England.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Philip, “it isn't much. Just a tract. But it was written by + Parson Halleck, a great minister and a sort of Pope in this region for + fifty years. It is, so far as I know, the only thing of his that remains.” + </p> + <p> + This tractarian movement was interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Mavick. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Mr. Burnett. I've been down to see Jenkins about his picnic + wagon. Carries six, besides the driver and my man, and the hampers. So, + you see, Miss Alice will have to go. We couldn't go rattling along half + empty. I'll go up and see her this afternoon. So, that's settled. Now + about the time and place. You are the director. Let's sit down and plan it + out. It looks like good weather for a week.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss McDonald says she wants to see the Mountain Miller,” said Philip, + with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “What's that? A monument like your Pulpit Rock?” + </p> + <p> + “No, a tract about a miller.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, something religious. I never heard of it. Well, perhaps we had better + begin with something secular, and work round to that.” + </p> + <p> + So an excursion was arranged for the next day. And as Philip walked home, + thinking how brilliant Evelyn had been in their little talk, he began to + dramatize the excursion. + </p> + <p> + All excursions are much alike, exhilarating in the outset, rarely up to + expectation in the object, wearisome in the return; but, nevertheless, + delightful in the memory, especially if attended with some hardship or + slight disaster. To be free, in the open air, and for a day unconventional + and irresponsible, is the sufficient justification of a country picnic; + but its common attraction is in the opportunity for bringing young persons + of the opposite sex into natural and unrestrained relations. To Philip it + was the first time in his life that a picnic had ever seemed a defensible + means of getting rid of a day. + </p> + <p> + The two persons to whom this excursion was most novel and exciting were + Evelyn and the elder maiden, Alice, who sat together and speedily + developed a sympathy with each other in the enjoyment of the country, and + in a similar poetic temperament, very shy on the part of Alice and very + frank on the part of Evelyn. The whole wild scene along the river was + quite as novel to Alice as to the city girl, because, although she was + familiar with every mile of it and had driven through it a hundred times, + she had never in all her life before, of purpose, gone to see it. No doubt + she had felt its wildness and beauty, but now for the first time she + looked at it as scenery, as she might have looked at a picture in a + gallery. And in the contagion of Evelyn's outspoken enthusiasm she was no + longer afraid to give timid expression to the latent poetry in her own + soul. And daring to express this, she seemed to herself for the first time + to realize vividly the nobility and grace of the landscape. And yet there + was a difference in the appreciation of the two. More widely read and + traveled, Evelyn's imagination took a wider range of comparison and of + admiration, she was appealed to by the large features and the grandiose + effects; while Alice noted more the tenderer aspects, the wayside flowers + and bushes, the exotic-looking plants, which she longed to domesticate in + what might be called the Sunday garden on the terraces in front of her + house. For it is in these little cultivated places by the door-step, + places of dreaming in the summer hours after meeting and at sunset, that + the New England maiden experiences something of that tender religious + sentiment which was not much fed in the barrenness of the Congregational + meeting-house. + </p> + <p> + The Pulpit Rock, in the rough pasture land of Zoar, was reached by a + somewhat tedious climb from the lonely farmhouse, in a sheltered nook, + through straggling woods and gray pastures. It was a vast exposed surface + rising at a slight angle out of the grass and undergrowth. Along the upper + side was a thin line of bushes, and, pushing these aside, the observer was + always startled at the unexpected scene—as it were the raising of a + curtain upon another world. He stood upon the edge of a sheer precipice of + a thousand feet, and looked down upon a green amphitheatre through the + bottom of which the brawling river, an amber thread in the summer foliage, + seemed trying to get an outlet from this wilderness cul de sac. From the + edge of this precipice the first impulse was to start back in surprise and + dread, but presently the observer became reassured of its stability, and + became fascinated by the lonesome wildness of the scene. + </p> + <p> + “Why is it called Pulpit Rock?” asked Mrs. Mavick; “I see no pulpit.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” said Philip, “the name was naturally suggested to a religious + community, whose poetic images are mainly Biblical, and who thought it an + advantageous place for a preacher to stand, looking down upon a vast + congregation in the amphitheatre.” + </p> + <p> + “So it is,” exclaimed Evelyn. “I can see John the Baptist standing here + now, and hear his voice crying in the wilderness.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely,” said Mrs. Mavick, persisting in her doubt, “of course in + Zoar. Anywhere else in the world it would be called the Lover's Leap.” + </p> + <p> + “That is odd,” said Alice; “there was a party of college girls came here + two years ago and made up a story about it which was printed, how an + Indian maiden pursued by a white man ran up this hill as if she had been a + deer, disappeared from his sight through these bushes, and took the fatal + leap. They called it the Indian Maiden's Rock. But it didn't take. It will + always be Pulpit Rock.” + </p> + <p> + “So you see, Miss McDonald,” said Philip, “that writers cannot graft + legends on the old stock.” + </p> + <p> + “That depends upon the writer,” returned the Scotch woman, shortly. “I + didn't see the schoolgirl's essay.” + </p> + <p> + When the luncheon was disposed of, with the usual adaptation to nomadic + conditions, and the usual merriment and freedom of personal comment, and + the wit that seems so brilliant in the open air and so flat in print, Mrs. + Mavick declared that she was tired by the long climb and the unusual + excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it is the Pulpit,” she said, “but I am sleepy; and if you young + people will amuse yourselves, I will take a nap under that tree.” + </p> + <p> + Presently, also, Alice and the governess withdrew to the edge of the + precipice, and Evelyn and Philip were left to the burden of entertaining + each other. It might have been an embarrassing situation but for the fact + that all the rest of the party were in sight, that the girl had not the + least self-consciousness, having had no experience to teach her that there + was anything to be timid about in one situation more than in another, and + that Philip was so absolutely content to be near Evelyn and hear her voice + that there was room for nothing else in his thought. But rather to his + surprise, Evelyn made no talk about the situation or the day, but began at + once with something in her mind, a directness of mental operation that he + found was characteristic of her. + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me, Mr. Burnett, that there is something of what Miss + McDonald regards as the lack of legend and romance in this region in our + life generally.” + </p> + <p> + “I fancy everybody feels that who travels much elsewhere. You mean life + seems a little thin, as the critics say?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, lacks color and background. But, you see, I have no experience. + Perhaps it's owing to Miss McDonald. I cannot get the plaids and tartans + and Jacobins and castles and what-not out of my head. Our landscapes are + just landscapes.” + </p> + <p> + “But don't you think we are putting history and association into them + pretty fast?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know, but that takes a long time. I mean now. Take this lovely + valley and region, how easily it could be made romantic.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so very easy, I fancy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I was thinking about it last night.” And then, as if she saw a + clear connection between this and what she was going to say, “Miss + McDonald says, Mr. Burnett, that you are a writer.” + </p> + <p> + “I? Why, I'm... I'm—a lawyer.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, that's business. That reminds me of what papa said once: 'It's + lucky there is so much law, or half the world, including the lawyers, + wouldn't have anything to do, trying to get around it and evade it.' And + you won't mind my repeating it—I was a mite of a girl—I said, + 'Isn't that rather sophistical, papa?' And mamma put me down'—It + seems to me, child, you are using pretty big words.'” + </p> + <p> + They both laughed. But suddenly Evelyn added: + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you do it?” + </p> + <p> + “Do what?” + </p> + <p> + “Write a story about it—what Miss McDonald calls 'invest the region + with romance.'” + </p> + <p> + The appeal was very direct, and it was enforced by those wonderful eyes + that seemed to Philip to discern his powers, as he felt them, and his + ambitions, and to express absolute confidence in him. His vanity was + touched in its most susceptible spot. Here seemed to be a woman, nay, a + soul, who understood him, understood him even better than Celia, the + lifelong confidante. It is a fatal moment for men and women, that in which + they feel the subtle flattery of being understood by one of the opposite + sex. Philip's estimation of himself rose 'pari passu' with his recognition + of the discernment and intellectual quality of the frank and fascinating + girl who seemed to believe in him. But he restrained himself and only + asked, after a moment of apparent reflection upon the general proposition: + </p> + <p> + “Well, Miss Mavick, you have been here some time. Have you discovered any + material for such use?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, perhaps not, and I might not know what to do with it if I had. But + perhaps you don't mean what I mean. I mean something fitting the setting. + Not the domestic novel. Miss McDonald says we are vulgarized in all our + ideals by so much domesticity. She says that Jennie Deans would have been + just an ordinary, commonplace girl but for Walter Scott.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you want a romance?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I don't know exactly what I do want. But I know it when I see it.” + And Evelyn looked down and appeared to be studying her delicate little + hands, interlacing her taper, ivory fingers—but Philip knew she did + not see them—and then looked up in his face again and said: + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you. This morning as we came up I was talking all the way with + your cousin. It took some time to break the ice, but gradually she began + to say things, half stories, half poetic, not out of books; things that, + if said with assurance, in the city would be called wit. And then I began + to see her emotional side, her pure imagination, such a refinement of + appreciation and justice—I think there is an immovable basis of + justice in her nature—and charity, and I think she'd be heroic, with + all her gentleness, if occasion offered.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Philip, rather lightly, “that you improved your time in + finding out what a rare creature Alice is. But,” and this more gravely, + “it would surprise her that you have found it out.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you. I fancy she has not the least idea what her qualities are, + or her capacities of doing or of suffering, and the world will never know—that + is the point-unless some genius comes along and reveals them.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, through a tragedy, a drama, a story, in which she acts out her whole + self. Some act it out in society. She never will. Such sweetness and + strength and passion—yes, I have no doubt, passion under all the + reserve! I feel it but I cannot describe it; I haven't imagination to make + you see what I feel.” + </p> + <p> + “You come very near it,” said Philip, with a smile. And after a moment the + girl broke out again: + </p> + <p> + “Materials! You writers go searching all round for materials, just as + painters do, fit for your genius.” + </p> + <p> + “But don't you know that the hardest thing to do is the obvious, the thing + close to you?” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say. But you won't mind? It is just an illustration. I went the + other day with mother to Alice's house. She was so sort of distant and + reserved that I couldn't know her in the least as I know her now. And + there was the rigid Puritan, her father, representing the Old Testament; + and her placid mother, with all the spirit of the New Testament; and then + that dear old maiden aunt, representing I don't know what, maybe a blind + attempt through nature and art to escape out of Puritanism; and the + typical old frame farmhouse—why, here is material for the sweetest, + most pathetic idyl. Yes, the Story of Alice. In another generation people + would come long distances to see the valley where Alice lived, and her + spirit would pervade it.” + </p> + <p> + There could be but one end to such a burst of enthusiasm, and both laughed + and felt a relief in a merriment that was, after all, sympathetic. But + Evelyn was a persistent creature, and presently she turned to Philip, + again with those appealing eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Now, why don't you do it?” + </p> + <p> + Philip hesitated a moment and betrayed some embarrassment under the + questioning of the truthful eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I've a good mind to tell you. I have—I am writing something.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that exactly. I couldn't, don't you see, betray and use my own + relatives in that way.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I see that.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't much. I cannot tell how it will come out. I tell you—I + don't mean that I have any right to ask you to keep it as a secret of + mine, but it is this way: If a writer gives away his imagination, his + idea, before it is fixed in form on paper, he seems to let the air of all + the world upon it and it disappears, and isn't quite his as it was before + to grow in his own mind.” + </p> + <p> + “I can understand that,” Evelyn replied. + </p> + <p> + “Well—” and Philip found himself launched. It is so easy to talk + about one's self to a sympathetic listener. He told Evelyn a little about + his life, and how the valley used to seem to him as a boy, and how it + seemed now that he had had experience of other places and people, and how + his studies and reading had enabled him to see things in their proper + relations, and how, finally, gradually the idea for a story in this + setting had developed in his mind. And then he sketched in outline the + story as he had developed it, and left the misty outlines of its + possibilities to the imagination. + </p> + <p> + The girl listened with absorbing interest, and looked the approval which + she did not put in words. Perhaps she knew that a bud will never come to + flower if you pull it in pieces. When Philip had finished he had a + momentary regret for this burst of confidence, which he had never given to + any one else. But in the light of Evelyn's quick approval and + understanding, it was only momentary. Perhaps neither of them thought what + a dangerous game this is, for two young souls to thus unbosom themselves + to each other. + </p> + <p> + A call from Mrs. Mavick brought them to their feet. It was time to go. + Evelyn simply said: + </p> + <p> + “I think the valley, Mr. Burnett, looks a little different already.” + </p> + <p> + As they drove home along the murmuring river through the golden sunset, + the party were mostly silent. Only Mrs. Mavick and Philip, who sat + together, kept up a lively chatter, lively because Philip was elated with + the event of the day, and because the nap under the beech-tree in the open + air had brightened the wits of one of the cleverest women Philip had ever + met. + </p> + <p> + If the valley did seem different to Evelyn, probably she did not think so + far as to own to herself whether this was owing to the outline of the + story, which ran in her mind, or to the presence of the young author. + </p> + <p> + Alice and Philip were set down at the farmhouse, and the company parted + with mutual enthusiasm over the success of the excursion. + </p> + <p> + “She is a much more interesting girl than I thought,” Alice admitted. “Not + a bit fashionable.” + </p> + <p> + “And she likes you.” + </p> + <p> + “Me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your ears would have burned.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am glad, for I think she is sincere.” + </p> + <p> + “And I can tell you another thing. I had a long talk while you were taking + your siesta. She takes an abstract view of things, judging the right and + wrong of them, without reference to conventionalities or the practical + obstacles to carrying out her ideas, as if she had been educated by + reading and not by society. It is very interesting.” + </p> + <p> + “Philip,” and Alice laid her hand on his shoulder, “don't let it be too + interesting.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII + </h2> + <p> + When Philip said that Evelyn was educated in the world of literature and + not in the conflicts of life he had hit the key-note of her condition at + the moment she was coming into the world and would have to act for + herself. The more he saw of her the more was he impressed with the fact + that her discrimination, it might almost be called divination, and her + judgment were based upon the best and most vital products of the human + mind. A selection had evidently been made for her, until she had acquired + the taste, or the habit rather, of choosing only the best for herself. + Very little of the trash of literature, or the ignoble—that is to + say, the ignoble view of life—had come into her mind. Consequently + she judged the world as she came to know it by high standards. And her + mind was singularly pure and free from vulgar images. + </p> + <p> + It might be supposed that this sort of education would have its + disadvantages. The word is firmly fixed in the idea that both for its + pleasure and profit it is necessary to know good and evil. Ignorance of + the evil in the world is, however, not to be predicated of those who are + familiar only with the great masterpieces of literature, for if they are + masterpieces, little or great, they exhibit human nature in all its + aspects. And, further than this, it ought to be demonstrable, a priori, + that a mind fed on the best and not confused by the weak and diluted, or + corrupted by images of the essentially vulgar and vile, would be morally + healthy and best fitted to cope with the social problems of life. The + Testaments reveal about everything that is known about human nature, but + such is their clear, high spirit, and their quality, that no one ever + traced mental degeneration or low taste in literature, or want of virility + in judgment, to familiarity with them. On the contrary, the most vigorous + intellects have acknowledged their supreme indebtedness to them. + </p> + <p> + It is not likely that Philip made any such elaborate analysis of the girl + with whom he was in love, or attempted, except by a general reference to + the method of her training, to account for the purity of her mind and her + vigorous discernment. He was in love with her more subtle and hidden + personality, with the girl just becoming a woman, with the mysterious sex + that is the inspiration of most of the poetry and a good part of the + heroism in the world. And he would have been in love with her, let her + education have been what it might. He was in love before he heard her + speak. And whatever she would say was bound to have a quality of interest + and attraction that could be exercised by no other lips. It might be + argued—a priori again, for the world is bound to go on in its own + way—that there would be fewer marriages if the illusion of the sex + did not suffice for the time to hide intellectual poverty, and, what is + worse, ignobleness of disposition. + </p> + <p> + It was doubtless fortunate for this particular lovemaking, though it did + not seem so to Philip, that it was very much obstructed by lack of + opportunities, and that it was not impaired in its lustre by too much + familiarity. In truth, Philip would have said that he saw very little of + Evelyn, because he never saw her absolutely alone. To be sure he was much + in her presence, a welcome member of the group that liked to idle on the + veranda of the inn, and in the frequent excursions, in which Philip seemed + to be the companion of Mrs. Mavick rather than of her daughter. But she + was never absent from his thought, his imagination was wholly captive to + her image, and the passion grew in these hours of absence until she became + an indispensable associate in all that he was or could ever hope to be. + Alice, who discerned very clearly Mrs. Mavick and her ambition, was + troubled by Philip's absorption and the cruel disappointment in store for + him. To her he was still the little boy, and all her tenderness for him + was stirred to shield him from the suffering she feared. + </p> + <p> + But what could she do? Philip liked to talk about Evelyn, to dwell upon + her peculiarities and qualities, to hear her praised; to this extent he + was confidential with his cousin, but never in regard to his own feeling. + That was a secret concerning which he was at once too humble and too + confident to share with any other. None knew better than he the absurd + presumption of aspiring to the hand of such a great heiress, and yet he + nursed the vanity that no other man could ever appreciate and love her as + he did. + </p> + <p> + Alice was still more distracted and in sympathy with Philip's evident + aspirations by her own love for Evelyn and her growing admiration for the + girl's character. It so happened that mutual sympathy—who can say + how it was related to Philip?—had drawn them much together, and + chance had given them many opportunities for knowing each other. Alice had + so far come out of her shell, and broken the reserve of her life, as to + make frequent visits at the inn, and Mrs. Mavick and Evelyn found it the + most natural and agreeable stroll by the river-side to the farmhouse, + where naturally, while the mother amused herself with the original + eccentricities of Patience, her daughter grew into an intimacy with Alice. + </p> + <p> + As for the feelings of Evelyn in these days—her first experience of + something like freedom in the world—the historian has only universal + experience to guide him. In her heart was working the consciousness that + she had been singled out as worthy to share the confidence of a man in his + most secret ambitions and aspirations, in the dreams of youth which seemed + to her so noble. For these aspirations and dreams concerned the world in + which she had lived most and felt most. + </p> + <p> + If Philip had talked to her as he had to Celia about his plans for success + in life she would have been less interested. But there was nothing to warn + her personally in these unworldly confessions. Nor did Philip ever seem to + ask anything of her except sympathy in his ideas. And then there was the + friendship of Alice, which could not but influence the girl. In the + shelter of that the intercourse of the summer took on natural relations. + For some natures there is no nurture of love like the security of family + protection, under cover of which there is so little to excite the alarm of + a timid maiden. + </p> + <p> + It was fortunate for Philip that Miss McDonald took a liking to him. They + were thrown much together. They were both good walkers, and liked to climb + the hills and explore the wild mountain streams. Philip would have + confessed that he was fond of nature, and fancied there was a sort of + superiority in his attitude towards it to that of his companion, who was + merely interested in plants-just a botanist. This attitude, which she + perceived, amused Miss McDonald. + </p> + <p> + “If you American students,” she said one day when they were seated on a + fallen tree in the forest, and she was expatiating on a rare plant she had + found, “paid no more attention to the classics than to the world you live + in, few of you would get a degree.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, some fellows go in for that sort of thing,” Philip replied. “But I + have noticed that all English women have some sort of fad—plants, + shells, birds, something special.” + </p> + <p> + “Fad!” exclaimed the Scotchwoman. “Yes, I suppose it is, if reading is a + fad. It is one way of finding out about things. You admire what the + Americans call scenery; we, since you provoke me to say it, love nature—I + mean its individual, almost personal manifestations. Every plant has a + distinct character of its own. I saw the other day an American landscape + picture with a wild, uncultivated foreground. There was not a botanical + thing in it. The man who painted it didn't know a sweetbrier from a + thistle. + </p> + <p> + “Just a confused mass of rubbish. It was as if an animal painter should + compose a group and you could not tell whether it was made up of sheep or + rabbits or dogs or foxes or griffins.” + </p> + <p> + “So you want things picked out like a photograph?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, I want nature. You cannot give character to a bit of + ground in a landscape unless you know the characters of its details. A man + is no more fit to paint a landscape than a cage of monkeys, unless he + knows the language of the nature he is dealing with down to the alphabet. + The Japanese know it so well that they are not bothered with minutia, but + give you character.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think that science is an aid to art?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if there is genius to transform it into art. You must know the + intimate habits of anything you paint or write about. You cannot even + caricature without that. They talk now about Dickens being just a + caricaturist. He couldn't have been that if he hadn't known the things he + caricatured. That is the reason there is so little good caricature.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't your idea of painting rather anatomical?” Philip ventured to ask. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think that if Raphael had known nothing of anatomy the world would + have accepted his Sistine Madonna for the woman she is?” was the retort. + </p> + <p> + “I see it is interesting,” said Philip, shifting his ground again, “but + what is the real good of all these botanical names and classifications?” + </p> + <p> + Miss McDonald gave a weary sigh. “Well, you must put things in order. You + studied philology in Germany? The chief end of that is to trace the + development, migration, civilization of the human race. To trace the + distribution of plants is another way to find out about the race. But let + that go. Don't you think that I get more pleasure in looking at all the + growing things we see, as we sit here, than you do in seeing them and + knowing as little about them as you pretend to?” + </p> + <p> + Philip said that he could not analyze the degree of pleasure in such + things, but he seemed to take his ignorance very lightly. What interested + him in all this talk was that, in discovering the mind of the governess, + he was getting nearer to the mind of her pupil. And finally he asked (and + Miss McDonald smiled, for she knew what this conversation, like all others + with him, must ultimately come to): + </p> + <p> + “Does the Mavick family also take to botany?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes. Mrs. Mavick is intimate with all the florists in New York. And + Miss Evelyn, when I take home these specimens, will analyze them and tell + all about them. She is very sharp about such things. You must have noticed + that she likes to be accurate?” + </p> + <p> + “But she is fond of poetry.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of poetry that she understands. She has not much of the emotional + vagueness of many young girls.” + </p> + <p> + All this was very delightful for Philip, and for a long time, on one + pretext or another, he kept the conversation revolving about this point. + He fancied he was very deep in doing this. To his interlocutor he was, + however, very transparent. And the young man would have been surprised and + flattered if he had known how much her indulgence of him in this talk was + due to her genuine liking for him. + </p> + <p> + When they returned to the inn, Mrs. Mavick began to rally Philip about his + feminine taste in woodsy things. He would gladly have thrown botany or + anything else overboard to win the good opinion of Evelyn's mother, but + botany now had a real significance and a new meaning for him. Therefore he + put in a defense, by saying: + </p> + <p> + “Botany, in the hands of Miss McDonald, cannot be called very feminine; it + is a good deal more difficult to understand and master than law.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe that's the reason,” said Mrs. Mavick, “why so many more girls are + eager to study law now than botany.” + </p> + <p> + “Law?” cried Evelyn; “and to practice?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. Don't you think that a bright, clever woman, especially if she + were pretty, would have an advantage with judge and jury?” + </p> + <p> + “Not if judge and jury were women,” Miss McDonald interposed. + </p> + <p> + “And you remember Portia?” Mrs. Mavick continued. + </p> + <p> + “Portia,” said Evelyn; “yes, but that is poetry; and, McDonald, wasn't it + a kind of catch? How beautifully she talked about mercy, but she turned + the sharp edge of it towards the Jew. I didn't like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Miss McDonald replied, “it was a kind of trick, a poet's law. What + do you say, Mr. Burnett?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said Philip, hesitating, “usually it is understood when a man buys + or wins anything that the appurtenances necessary to give him full + possession go with it. Only in this case another law against the Jew was + understood. It was very clever, nothing short of woman's wit.” + </p> + <p> + “Are there any women in your firm, Mr. Burnett?” asked Mrs. Mavick. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet, but I think there are plenty of lawyers who would be willing to + take Portia for a partner.” + </p> + <p> + “Make her what you call a consulting partner. That is just the way with + you men—as soon as you see women succeeding in doing anything + independently, you head them off by matrimony.” + </p> + <p> + “Not against their wills,” said the governess, with some decision. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the poor things are easily hypnotized. And I'm glad they are. The + funniest thing is to hear the Woman's Rights women talk of it as a state + of subjection,” and Mrs. Mavick laughed out of her deep experience. + </p> + <p> + “Rights, what's that?” asked Evelyn. + </p> + <p> + “Well, child, your education has been neglected. Thank McDonald for that.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you know, Evelyn,” the governess explained, “that we have always + said that women had a right to have any employment, or do anything they + were fitted to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that, of course; I thought everybody said that. That is natural. But + I mean all this fuss. I guess I don't understand what you all are talking + about.” And her bright face broke out of its look of perplexity into a + smile. + </p> + <p> + “Why, poor thing,” said her mother, “you belong to the down-trodden sex. + Only you haven't found it out.” + </p> + <p> + “But, mamma,” and the girl seemed to be turning the thing over in her + mind, as was her wont with any new proposition, “there seem to be in + history a good many women who never found it out either.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not so now. I tell you we are all in a wretched condition.” + </p> + <p> + “You look it, mamma,” replied Evelyn, who perfectly understood when her + mother was chaffing. + </p> + <p> + “But I think I don't care so much for the lawyers,” Mrs. Mavick continued, + with more air of conviction; “what I can't stand are the doctors, the + female doctors. I'd rather have a female priest about me than a female + doctor.” + </p> + <p> + This was not altogether banter, for there had been times in Carmen's + career when the externals of the Roman Church attracted her, and she + wished she had an impersonal confidant, to whom she could confess—well, + not everything-and get absolution. And she could make a kind of confidant + of a sympathetic doctor. But she went on: + </p> + <p> + “To have a sharp woman prying into all my conditions and affairs! No, I + thank you. Don't you think so, McDonald?” + </p> + <p> + “They do say,” the governess admitted, “that women doctors haven't as much + consideration for women's whims as men.” And, after a moment, she + continued: + </p> + <p> + “But, for all that, women ought to understand about women better than men + can, and be the best doctors for them.” + </p> + <p> + “So it seems to me,” said Evelyn, appealing to her mother. “Don't you + remember that day you took me down to the infirmary in which you are + interested, and how nice it was, nobody but women for doctors and nurses + and all that? Would you put that in charge of men?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you child!” cried Mrs. Mavick, turning to her daughter and patting + her on the head. “Of course there are exceptions. But I'm not going to be + one of the exceptions. Ah, well, I suppose I am quite behind the age; but + the conduct of my own sex does get on my nerves sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + Evelyn was silent. She was often so when discussions arose. They were apt + to plunge her into deep thought. To those who knew her history, guarded + from close contact with anything but the world of ideas, it was very + interesting to watch her mental attitude as she was day by day emerging + into a knowledge of the actual world and encountering its crosscurrents. + To Philip, who was getting a good idea of what her education had been, an + understanding promoted by his knowledge of the character and attainments + of her governess, her mental processes, it may be safely said, opened a + new world of thought. Not that mental processes made much difference to a + man in his condition, still, they had the effect of setting her + personality still further apart from that of other women. One day when + they happened to be tete-a-tete in one of their frequent excursions—a + rare occasion—Evelyn had said: + </p> + <p> + “How strange it is that so many things that are self-evident nobody seems + to see, and that there are so many things that are right that can't be + done.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the way the world is made,” Philip had replied. She was + frequently coming out with the sort of ideas and questions that are often + proposed by bright children, whose thinking processes are not only fresh + but undisturbed by the sophistries or concessions that experience has + woven into the thinking of our race. “Perhaps it hasn't your faith in the + abstract.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith? I wonder. Do you mean that people do not dare go ahead and do + things?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, partly. You see, everybody is hedged in by circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I do begin to see circumstances. I suppose I'm a sort of a goose—in + the abstract, as you say.” And Evelyn laughed. It was the spontaneous, + contagious laugh of a child. “You know that Miss McDonald says I'm nothing + but a little idealist.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you deny it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. I said, so were the Apostles, all save one—he was a + realist.” + </p> + <p> + It was Philip's turn to laugh at this new definition, and upon this the + talk had drifted into the commonplaces of the summer situation and about + Rivervale and its people. Philip regretted that his vacation would so soon + be over, and that he must say good-by to all this repose and beauty, and + to the intercourse that had been so delightful to him. + </p> + <p> + “But you will write,” Evelyn exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + Philip was startled. + </p> + <p> + “Write?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your novel.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I suppose so,” without any enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “You must. I keep thinking of it. What a pleasure it must be to create a + real drama of life.” + </p> + <p> + So this day on the veranda of the inn when Philip spoke of his hateful + departure next day, and there was a little chorus of protest, Evelyn was + silent; but her silence was of more significance to him than the protests, + for he knew her thoughts were on the work he had promised to go on with. + </p> + <p> + “It is too bad,” Mrs. Mavick exclaimed; “we shall be like a lot of sheep + without a shepherd.” + </p> + <p> + “That we shall,” the governess joined in. “At any rate, you must make us + out a memorandum of what is to be seen and done and how to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Philip, gayly, “I'll write tonight a complete guide to + Rivervale.” + </p> + <p> + “We are awfully obliged to you for what you have done.” Mrs. Mavick was no + doubt sincere in this. And she added, “Well, we shall all be back in the + city before long.” + </p> + <p> + It was a natural thing to say, and Philip understood that there was no + invitation in it, more than that of the most conventional acquaintance. + For Mrs. Mavick the chapter was closed. + </p> + <p> + There were the most cordial hand-shakings and good-bys, and Philip said + good-by as lightly as anybody. But as he walked along the road he knew, or + thought he was sure, that the thoughts of one of the party were going + along with him into his future, and the peaceful scene, the murmuring + river, the cat-birds and the blackbirds calling in the meadow, and the + spirit of self-confident youth in him said not good-by, but au revoir. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV + </h2> + <p> + Of course Philip wrote to Celia about his vacation intimacy with the + Mavicks. It was no news to her that the Mavicks were spending the summer + there; all the world knew that, and society wondered what whim of Carmen's + had taken her out of the regular summer occupations and immured her in the + country. Not that it gave much thought to her, but, when her name was + mentioned, society resented the closing of the Newport house and the loss + of her vivacity in the autumn at Lenox. She is such a hand to set things + going, don't you know? Mr. Mavick never made a flying visit to his family—and + he was in Rivervale twice during the season—that the newspapers did + not chronicle his every movement, and attribute other motives than family + affection to these excursions into New England. Was the Central system or + the Pennsylvania system contemplating another raid? It could not be denied + that the big operator's connection with any great interest raised + suspicion and often caused anxiety. + </p> + <p> + Naturally, thought Celia, in such a little village, Philip would fall in + with the only strangers there, so that he was giving her no news in saying + so. But there was a new tone in his letters; she detected an unusual + reserve that was in itself suspicious. Why did he say so much about Mrs. + Mavick and the governess, and so little about the girl? + </p> + <p> + “You don't tell me,” she wrote, “anything about the Infant Phenomenon. And + you know I am dying to know.” + </p> + <p> + This Philip resented. Phenomenon! The little brown girl, with eyes that + saw so much and were so impenetrably deep, and the mobile face, so alert + and responsive. If ever there was a natural person, it was Evelyn. So he + wrote: + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing to tell; she is not an infant and she is not a + phenomenon. Only this: she has less rubbish in her mind than any person + you ever saw. And I guess the things she does not know about life are not + worth knowing.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” replied Celia; “poor boy! it's the moth and the star. [That's + just like her, muttered Philip, she always assumed to be the older.] But + don't mind. I've come to the conclusion that I am a moth myself, and some + of the lights I used to think stars have fallen. And, seriously, dear + friend, I am glad there is a person who does not know the things not worth + knowing. It is a step in the right direction. I have been this summer up + in the hills, meditating. And I am not so sure of things as I was. I used + to think that all women needed was what is called education—science, + history, literature—and you could safely turn them loose on the + world. It certainly is not safe to turn them loose without education—but + I begin to wonder what we are all coming to. I don't mind telling you that + I have got into a pretty psychological muddle, and I don't see much to + hold on to. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose that Scotch governess is pious; I mean she has a backbone of + what they call dogma; things are right or wrong in her mind—no + haziness. Now, I am going to make a confession. I've been thinking of + religion. Don't mock. You know I was brought up religious, and I am + religious. I go to church—well, you know how I feel and especially + the things I don't believe. I go to church to be entertained. I read the + other day that Cardinal Manning said: 'The three greatest evils in the + world today are French devotional books, theatrical music, and the pulpit + orator. And the last is the worst.' I wonder. I often feel as if I had + been to a performance. No. It is not about sin that I am especially + thinking, but the sinner. One ought to do something. Sometimes I think I + ought to go to the city. You know I was in a College Settlement for a + while. Now I mean something permanent, devoted to the poor as a life + occupation, like a nun or something of that sort. You think this is a + mood? Perhaps. There have always been so many things before me to do, and + I wanted to do them all. And I do not stick to anything? You must not + presume to say that, because I confide to you all my errant thoughts. You + have not confided in me—I don't insinuate that you have anything to + confide but I cannot help saying that if you have found a pure and + clear-minded girl—Heaven knows what she will be when she is a woman + I—I am sorry she is not poor.” + </p> + <p> + But if Philip did not pour out his heart to his old friend, he did open a + lively and frequent correspondence with Alice. Not about the person who + was always in his thoughts—oh, no—but about himself, and all + he was doing, in the not unreasonable expectation that the news would go + where he could not send it directly—so many ingenious ways has love + of attaining its object. And if Alice, no doubt, understood all this, she + was nevertheless delighted, and took great pleasure in chronicling the + news of the village and giving all the details that came in her way about + the millionaire family. This connection with the world, if only by + correspondence, was an outlet to her reserved and secluded life. And her + letters recorded more of her character, of her feeling, than he had known + in all his boyhood. When Alice mentioned, as it were by chance, that + Evelyn had asked, more than once, when she had spoken of receiving + letters, if her cousin was going on with his story, Philip felt that the + connection was not broken. + </p> + <p> + Going on with his story he was, and with good heart. The thought that + “she” might some day read it was inspiration enough. Any real creation, by + pen or brush or chisel, must express the artist and be made in + independence of the demands of a vague public. Art is vitiated when the + commercial demand, which may be a needed stimulus, presides at the + creation. But it is doubtful if any artist in letters, or in form or + color, ever did anything well without having in mind some special person, + whose approval was desired or whose criticism was feared. Such is the + universal need of human sympathy. It is, at any rate, true that Philip's + story, recast and reinspired, was thenceforth written under the spell of + the pure divining eyes of Evelyn Mavick. Unconsciously this was so. For at + this time Philip had not come to know that the reason why so many degraded + and degrading stories and sketches are written is because the writers' + standard is the approval of one or two or a group of persons of vitiated + tastes and low ideals. + </p> + <p> + The Mavicks did not return to town till late in the autumn. By this time + Philip's novel had been submitted to a publisher, or, rather, to state the + exact truth, it had begun to go the rounds of the publishers. Mr. Brad, to + whose nineteenth-century and newspaper eye Philip had shrunk from + confiding his modest creation, but who was consulted in the business, + consoled him with the suggestion that this was a sure way of getting his + production read. There was already in the city a considerable body of + professional “readers,” mostly young men and women, to whom manuscripts + were submitted by the publishers, so that the author could be sure, if he + kept at it long enough, to get a pretty fair circulation for his story. + They were selected because they were good judges of literature and because + they had a keen appreciation of what the public wanted at the moment. Many + of them are overworked, naturally so, in the mass of manuscripts turned + over to their inspection day after day, and are compelled often to adopt + the method of tea-tasters, who sip but do not swallow, for to drink a cup + or two of the decoction would spoil their taste and impair their judgment, + especially on new brands. Philip liked to imagine, as the weeks passed + away—the story is old and need not be retold here—that at any + given hour somebody was reading him. He did not, however, dwell with much + delight upon this process, for the idea that some unknown Rhadamanthus was + sitting in judgment upon him much more wounded his 'amour propre', and + seemed much more like an invading of his inner, secret life and feeling, + than would be an instant appeal to the general public. Why, he thought, it + is just as if I had shown it to Brad himself—apiece of confidence + that he could not bring himself to. He did not know that Brad himself was + a reader for a well-known house—which had employed him on the + strength of his newspaper notoriety—and that very likely he had + already praised the quality of the work and damned it as lacking “snap.” + </p> + <p> + It was, however, weary waiting, and would have been intolerable if his + duties in the law office had not excluded other thoughts from his mind a + good part of the time. There were days when he almost resolved to confine + himself to the solid and remunerative business of law, and give up the + vague aspirations of authorship. But those vague aspirations were in the + end more enticing than the courts. Common-sense is not an antidote to the + virus of the literary infection when once a young soul has taken it. In + his long walks it was not on the law that Philip was ruminating, nor was + the fame of success in it occupying his mind. Suppose he could write one + book that should touch the heart of the world. Would he exchange the + sweetness of that for the fleeting reputation of the most brilliant + lawyer? In short, he magnified beyond all reason the career and reputation + of the author, and mistook the consideration he occupies in the great + world. And what a world it would be if there had not been a continuous + line of such mistaken fools as he! + </p> + <p> + That it was not literature alone that inflated his dreams was evidenced by + the direction his walks took. Whatever their original destination or + purpose, he was sure to pass through upper Fifth Avenue, and walk by the + Mavick mansion. And never without a lift in his spirits. What comfort + there is to a lover in gazing at the blank and empty house once occupied + by his mistress has never been explained; but Philip would have counted + the day lost in which he did not see it. + </p> + <p> + After he heard from Alice that the Mavicks had returned, the house had + still stronger attractions for him, for there was added the chance of a + glimpse of Evelyn or one of the family. Many a day passed, however, before + he mustered up courage to mount the steps and touch the button. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said the servant, “the family is returned, but they is h'out.” + </p> + <p> + Philip left his card. But nothing came of it, and he did not try again. In + fact, he was a little depressed as the days went by. How much doubt and + anxiety, even suffering, might have been spared him if the historian at + that moment could have informed him of a little shopping incident at + Tiffany's a few days after the Mavicks' return. + </p> + <p> + A middle-aged lady and a young girl were inspecting some antiques. The + girl, indeed, had been asking for ancient coins, and they were shown two + superb gold staters with the heads of Alexander and Philip. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't they beautiful?” said the younger. “How lovely one would be for a + brooch!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed,” replied the elder, “and quite in the line of our Greek + reading.” + </p> + <p> + The girl held them in her hand and looked at one and the other with a + student's discrimination. + </p> + <p> + “Which would you choose?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, both are fine. Philip of Macedon has a certain youthful freshness, in + the curling hair and uncovered head. But, of course, Alexander the Great + is more important, and then there is the classic casque. I should take the + Alexander.” The girl still hesitated, weighing the choice in her mind from + the classic point of view. + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless you are right. But”—and she held up the lovely head—“this + is not quite so common, and—and—I think I'll take the Macedon + one. Yes, you may set that for me,” turning to the salesman. + </p> + <p> + “Diamonds or pearls?” asked the jeweler. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, no!” exclaimed the girl; “just the head.” + </p> + <p> + Evelyn's education was advancing. For the first time in her life she had + something to conceal. The privilege of this sort of secret is, however, an + inheritance of Eve. The first morning she wore it at breakfast Mrs. Mavick + asked her what it was. + </p> + <p> + “It's a coin, antique Greek,” Evelyn replied, passing it across the table. + </p> + <p> + “How pretty it is; it is very pretty. Ought to have pearls around it. + Seems to be an inscription on it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is real old. McDonald says it is a stater, about the same as a + Persian daric-something like the value of a sovereign.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed; very interesting.” + </p> + <p> + To give Evelyn her due, it must be confessed that she blushed at this + equivocation about the inscription, and she got quite hot with shame + thinking what would become of her if Philip should ever know that she was + regarding him as a stater and wearing his name on her breast. + </p> + <p> + One can fancy what philosophical deductions as to the education of women + Celia Howard would have drawn out of this coin incident; one of them + doubtless being that a classical education is no protection against love. + </p> + <p> + But for Philip's connection with the thriving firm of Hunt, Sharp & + Tweedle, it is safe to say that he would have known little of the world of + affairs in Wall Street, and might never have gained entrance into that + other world, for which Wall Street exists, that society where its wealth + and ambitious vulgarity are displayed. Thomas Mavick was a client of the + firm. At first they had been only associated with his lawyer, and + consulted occasionally. But as time went on Mr. Mavick opened to them his + affairs more and more, as he found the advantage of being represented to + the public by a firm that combined the highest social and professional + standing with all the acumen and adroitness that his complicated affairs + required. + </p> + <p> + It was a time of great financial feverishness and uncertainty, and of + opportunity for the most reckless adventurers. Houses the most solid were + shaken and crippled, and those which were much extended in a variety of + adventures were put to their wits' ends to escape shipwreck. Financial + operations are perpetual war. It is easy to calculate about the regular + forces, but the danger is from the unexpected “raids” and the bushwhackers + and guerrillas. And since politics has become inextricably involved in + financial speculations (as it has in real war), the excitement and danger + of business on a large scale increase. + </p> + <p> + Philip as a trusted clerk, without being admitted into interior secrets, + came to know a good deal about Mavick's affairs, and to be more than ever + impressed with his enormous wealth and the magnitude of his operations. + From time to time he was sent on errands to Mavick's office, and + gradually, as Mavick became accustomed to him as a representative of the + firm, they came on a somewhat familiar footing, and talked of other things + than business. And Mavick, who was not a bad judge of the capacities of + men, conceived a high idea of Philip's single-mindedness, of his integrity + and general culture, and, as well, of his agreeableness (for Philip had a + certain charm where he felt at ease), while at the same time he discovered + that his mind was more upon something else than law, and that, if his + success in his profession depended upon his adoption of the business + methods of the Street, he could not go very far. Consequently he did not + venture upon the same confidences with him that he habitually did with Mr. + Sharp. Yet, business aside, he had an intellectual pleasure in exchanging + views with Philip which Mr. Sharp's conversation did not offer him. + </p> + <p> + When, therefore, Mrs. Mavick came to consult her husband about the list + for the coming-out reception of Evelyn, Philip found a friend at court. + </p> + <p> + “It is all plain enough,” said Carmen, as she sat down with book and + pencil in hand, “till you come to the young men, the unattached young men. + Here is my visiting-list, that of course. But for the young ladies we must + have more young men. Can't you suggest any?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps. I know a lot of young fellows.” + </p> + <p> + “But I mean available young men, those that count socially. I don't want a + broker's board or a Chamber of Commerce here.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mavick named half a dozen, and Carmen looked for their names in the + social register. “Any more?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you forgot young Burnett, who was with you last summer at Rivervale. + I thought you liked him.” + </p> + <p> + “So I did in Rivervale. Plain farmer people. Yes, he was very nice to us. + I've been thinking if I couldn't send him something Christmas and pay off + the debt.” + </p> + <p> + “He'd think a great deal more of an invitation to your reception.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't understand. You never think of Evelyn's future. We are + asking people that we think she ought to know.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Burnett is a very agreeable fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Fiddlesticks! He is nothing but a law clerk. Worse than that, he is a + magazine writer.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you liked his essays and stories.” + </p> + <p> + “So I do. But you don't want to associate with everybody you like that + way. I am talking about society. You must draw the line somewhere. Oh, I + forgot Fogg—Dr. LeRoy Fogg, from Pittsburg.” And down went the name + of Fogg. + </p> + <p> + “You mean that young swell whose business it is to drive a four-in-hand to + Yonkers and back, and toot on a horn?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what of that? Everybody who is anybody, I mean all the girls, want + to go on his coach.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lord! I'd rather go on the Elevated.” And Mavick laughed very + heartily, for him. “Well, I'll make a compromise. You take Fogg and I'll + take Burnett. He is in a good firm, he belongs to a first-rate club, he + goes to the Hunts' and the Scammels', I hear of him in good places. Come.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you make a point of it. I've nothing against him. But if you + knew the feelings of a mother about her only daughter you would know, that + you cannot be too careful.” + </p> + <p> + When, several days after this conversation, Philip received his big + invitation, gorgeously engraved on what he took to be a sublimated sort of + wrapping-paper, he felt ashamed that he had doubted the sincere friendship + and the goodness of heart of Mrs. Mavick. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV + </h2> + <p> + One morning in December, Philip was sent down to Mr. Mavick's office with + some important papers. He was kept waiting a considerable time in the + outer room where the clerks were at work. A couple of clerks at desks near + the chair he occupied were evidently discussing some one and he overheard + fragments of sentences—“Yes, that's he.” “Well, I guess the old + man's got his match this time.” + </p> + <p> + When he was admitted to the private office, he encountered coming out in + the anteroom a man of striking appearance. For an instant they were face + to face, and then bowed and passed on. The instant seemed to awaken some + memory in Philip which greatly puzzled him. + </p> + <p> + The man had closely cropped black hair, black Whiskers, a little curling, + but also closely trimmed, piercing black eyes, and the complexion of a + Spaniard. The nose was large but regular, the mouth square-cut and firm, + and the powerful jaw emphasized the decision of the mouth. The frame + corresponded with the head. It was Herculean, and yet with no exaggerated + developments. The man was over six feet in height, the shoulders were + square, the chest deep, the hips and legs modeled for strength, and with + no superfluous flesh. Philip noticed, as they fronted each other for an + instant and the stranger raised his hat, that his hands and feet were + smaller than usually accompany such a large frame. The impression was that + of great physical energy, self-confidence, and determined will. The face + was not bad, certainly not in detail, and even the penetrating eyes seemed + at the moment capable of a humorous expression, but it was that of a man + whom you would not like to have your enemy. He wore a business suit of + rough material and fashionable cut, but he wore it like a man who did not + give much thought to his clothes. + </p> + <p> + “What a striking-looking man,” said Philip, motioning with his hand + towards the anteroom as he greeted Mr. Mavick. + </p> + <p> + “Who, Ault?” answered Mavick, indifferently. + </p> + <p> + “Ault! What, Murad Ault?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody else.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible? I thought I saw a resemblance. Several times I have + wondered, but I fancied it only a coincidence of names. It seemed absurd. + Why, I used to know Murad Ault when we were boys. And to think that he + should be the great Murad Ault.” + </p> + <p> + “He hasn't been that for more than a couple of years,” Mavick answered, + with a smile at the other's astonishment, and then, with more interest, + “What do you know about him?” + </p> + <p> + “If this is the same person, he used to live at Rivervale. Came there, no + one knew where from, and lived with his mother, a little withered old + woman, on a little cleared patch up in the hills, in a comfortable sort of + shanty. She used to come to the village with herbs and roots to sell. + Nobody knew whether she was a gypsy or a decayed lady, she had such an + air, and the children were half afraid of her, as a sort of witch. Murad + went to school, and occasionally worked for some farmer, but nobody knew + him; he rarely spoke to any one, and he had the reputation of being a + perfect devil; his only delight seemed to be in doing some dare-devil feat + to frighten the children. We used to say that Murad Ault would become + either a pirate or—” + </p> + <p> + “Broker,” suggested Mr. Mavick, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know much about brokers at that time,” Philip hastened to say, + and then laughed himself at his escape from actual rudeness. + </p> + <p> + “What became of him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he just disappeared. After I went away to school I heard that his + mother had died, and Murad had gone off—gone West it was said. + Nothing was ever heard of him.” + </p> + <p> + The advent and rise of Murad Ault in New York was the sort of phenomenon + to which the metropolis, which picks up its great men as Napoleon did his + marshals, is accustomed. The mystery of his origin, which was at first + against him, became at length an element of his strength and of the fear + he inspired, as a sort of elemental force of unknown power. Newspaper + biographies of him constantly appeared, but he had evaded every attempt to + include him and his portrait in the Lives of Successful Men. The + publishers of these useful volumes for stimulating speculation and + ambition did not dare to take the least liberties with Murad Ault. + </p> + <p> + The man was like the boy whom Philip remembered. Doubtless he appreciated + now as then the value of the mystery that surrounded his name and origin; + and he very soon had a humorous conception of the situation that made him + decline to be pilloried with others in one of those volumes, which won + from a reviewer the confession that “lives of great men all remind us we + may make our lives sublime.” One of the legends current about him was that + he first appeared in New York as a “hand” on a canal-boat, that he got + employment as a check-clerk on the dock, that he made the acquaintance of + politicians in his ward, and went into politics far enough to get a city + contract, which paid him very well and showed him how easily a resolute + man could get money and use it in the city. He was first heard of in Wall + Street as a curbstone broker, taking enormous risks and always lucky. Very + soon he set up an office, with one clerk or errand-boy, and his growing + reputation for sagacity and boldness began to attract customers; his + ventures soon engaged the attention of guerrillas like himself, who were + wont to consult him. They found that his advice was generally sound, and + that he had not only sensitiveness but prescience about the state of the + market. His office was presently enlarged, and displayed a modest sign of + “Murad Ault, Banker and Broker.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ault's operations constantly enlarged, his schemes went beyond the + business of registering other people's bets and taking a commission on + them; he was known as a daring but successful promoter, and he had a + visible ownership in steamships and railways, and projected such vast + operations as draining the Jersey marshes. If he had been a citizen of + Italy he would have attacked the Roman Campagna with the same confidence. + At any rate, he made himself so much felt and seemed to command so many + resources that it was not long before he forced his way into the Stock + Exchange and had a seat in the Board of Brokers. He was at first an odd + figure there. There was something flash about his appearance, and his + heavy double watch-chain and diamond shirt-studs gave him the look of an + ephemeral adventurer. But he soon took his cue, the diamonds disappeared, + and the dress was toned down. There seemed to be two models in the Board, + the smart and neat, and the hayseed style adopted by some of the most wily + old operators, who posed as honest dealers who retained their rural + simplicity. Mr. Ault adopted a middle course, and took the respectable yet + fashionable, solid dress of a man of affairs. + </p> + <p> + There is no other place in the world where merit is so quickly recognized + as in the Stock Exchange, especially if it is backed by brass and a good + head. Ault's audacity made him feared; he was believed to be as + unscrupulous as he was reckless, but this did not much injure his + reputation when it was seen that he was marvelously successful. That Ault + would wreck the market, if he could and it was to his advantage, no one + doubted; but still he had a quality that begot confidence. He kept his + word. Though men might be shy of entering into a contract with Ault, they + learned that what he said he would do he would do literally. He was not a + man of many words, but he was always decided and apparently open, and, as + whatever he touched seemed to thrive, his associates got the habit of + saying, “What Ault says goes.” + </p> + <p> + Murad Ault had married, so it was said, the daughter of a boarding-house + keeper on the dock. She was a pretty girl, had been educated in a convent + (perhaps by his aid after he was engaged to marry her), and was a sweet + mother to a little brood of charming children, and a devout member of her + parish church. Those who had seen Mrs. Ault when her carriage took her + occasionally to Ault's office in the city were much impressed by her + graceful manner and sweet face, and her appearance gave Ault a sort of + anchorage in the region of respectability. No one would have accused Ault + of being devoted to any special kind of religious worship; but he was + equally tolerant of all religions, and report said was liberal in his + wife's church charities. Besides the fact that he owned a somewhat + pretentious house in Sixtieth Street, society had very little knowledge of + him. + </p> + <p> + It was, however, undeniable that he was a power in the Street. No other + man's name was oftener mentioned in the daily journals in connection with + some bold and successful operation. He seemed to thrive on panics, and to + grow strong and rich with every turn of the wheel. There is only one stock + expression in America for a man who is very able and unscrupulous, and + carries things successfully with a high hand—he is Napoleonic. It + needed only a few brilliant operations, madly reckless in appearance but + successful, to give Ault the newspaper sobriquet of the Young Napoleon. + </p> + <p> + “Papa, what does he mean?” asked the eldest boy. “Jim Dustin says the + papers call you Napoleon.” + </p> + <p> + “It means, my boy,” said Ault, with a grim smile, “that I am devoted to + your mother, St. Helena.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't say that, Murad,” exclaimed his wife; “I'm far enough from a saint, + and your destiny isn't the Island.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the Island, mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “It's a place people are sent to for their health.” + </p> + <p> + “In a boat? Can I go?” + </p> + <p> + “You ask too many questions, Sinclair,” said Mr. Ault; “it's time you were + off to school.” + </p> + <p> + There seems to have been not the least suspicion in this household that + the head of it was a pirate. + </p> + <p> + It must be said that Mavick still looked upon Ault as an adventurer, one + of those erratic beings who appear from time to time in the Street, upset + everything, and then disappear. They had been associated occasionally in + small deals, and Ault had more than once appealed to Mavick, as a great + capitalist, with some promising scheme. They had, indeed, co-operated in + reorganizing a Western railway, but seemed to have come out of the + operation without increased confidence in each other. What had occurred + nobody knew, but thereafter there developed a slight antagonism between + the two operators. Ault went no more to consult the elder man, and they + had two or three little bouts, in which Mavick did not get the best of it. + This was not an unusual thing in the Street. Mr. Ault never expressed his + opinion of Mr. Mavick, but it became more and more apparent that their + interests were opposed. Some one who knew both men, and said that the one + was as cold and selfish as a pike, and the other was a most unscrupulous + dare-devil, believed that Mavick had attempted some sort of a trick on + Ault, and that it was the kind of thing that the Spaniard (his complexion + had given him this nickname) never forgot. + </p> + <p> + It is not intended to enter into a defense of the local pool known as the + New York Stock Exchange. It needs none. Some regard it as a necessary + standpipe to promote and equalize distribution, others consult it as a + sort of Nilometer, to note the rise and fall of the waters and the + probabilities of drought or flood. Everybody knows that it is full of the + most gamy and beautiful fish in the world—namely, the speckled + trout, whose honest occupation it is to devour whatever is thrown into the + pool—a body governed by the strictest laws of political economy in + guarding against over-population, by carrying out the Malthusian idea, in + the habit the big ones have of eating the little ones. But occasionally + this harmonious family, which is animated by one of the most conspicuous + traits of human nature—to which we owe very much of our progress—namely, + the desire to get hold of everything within reach, and is such a useful + object-lesson of the universal law of upward struggle that results in the + survival of the fittest, this harmonious family is disturbed by the advent + of a pickerel, which makes a raid, introduces confusion into all the + calculations of the pool, roils the water, and drives the trout into their + holes. + </p> + <p> + The presence in the pool of a slimy eel or a blundering bullhead or a + lethargic sucker is bad enough, but the rush in of the pickerel is the + advent of the devil himself. Until he is got rid of, all the delicate + machinery for the calculation of chances is hopelessly disturbed; and no + one could tell what would become of the business of the country if there + were not a considerable number of devoted men engaged in registering its + fluctuations and the change of values, and willing to back their opinions + by investing their own capital or, more often, the capital of others. + </p> + <p> + This somewhat mixed figure cannot be pursued further without losing its + analogy, becoming fantastic, and violating natural law. For it is matter + of observation that in this arena the pickerel, if he succeeds in clearing + out the pool, suddenly becomes a trout, and is respected as the biggest + and most useful fish in the pond. + </p> + <p> + What is meant is simply that Murad Ault was fighting for position, and + that for some reason, known to himself, Thomas Mavick stood in his way. + Mr. Mavick had never been under the necessity of making such a contest. He + stepped into a commanding position as the manager if not the owner of the + great fortune of Rodney Henderson. His position was undisputed, for the + Street believed with the world in the magnitude of that fortune, though + there were shrewd operators who said that Mavick had more chicane but not + a tenth part of the ability of Rodney Henderson. Mr. Ault had made the + fortune the object of keen scrutiny, when his antagonism was aroused, and + none knew better than he its assailable points. Henderson had died + suddenly in the midst of vast schemes which needed his genius to perfect. + Apparently the Mavick estate was second to only a few fortunes in the + country. Mr. Ault had set himself to find out whether this vast structure + stood upon rock foundations. The knowledge he acquired about it and his + intentions he communicated to no one. But the drift of his mind might be + gathered from a remark he made to his wife one day, when some social + allusion was made to Mavick: “I'll bring down that snob.” + </p> + <p> + The use of such men as Ault in the social structure is very doubtful, as + doubtful as that of a summer tempest or local cyclone, which it is said + clears the air and removes rubbish, but is a scourge that involves the + innocent as often as the guilty. It is popularly supposed that the + disintegration and distribution of a great fortune, especially if it has + been accumulated by doubtful methods, is a benefit to mankind. Mr. Ault + may have shared this impression, but it is unlikely that he philosophized + on the subject. No one, except perhaps his own family, had ever discovered + that he had any sensibilities that could be appealed to, and, if he had + known the ideas beginning to take shape in the mind of the millionaire + heiress in regard to this fortune, he would have approved or comprehended + them as little as did her mother. + </p> + <p> + Evelyn had lived hitherto with little comprehension of her peculiar + position. That the world went well with her, and that no obstacle was + opposed to the gratification of her reasonable desires, or to her impulses + of charity and pity, was about all she knew of her power. But she was now + eighteen and about to appear in the world. Her mother, therefore, had been + enlightening her in regard to her expectations and the career that lay + open to her. And Carmen thought the girl a little perverse, in that this + prospect, instead of exciting her worldly ambition, seemed to affect her + only seriously as a matter of responsibility. + </p> + <p> + In their talks Mrs. Mavick was in fact becoming acquainted with the mind + of her daughter, and learning, somewhat to her chagrin, the limitations of + her education produced by the policy of isolation. + </p> + <p> + To her dismay, she found that the girl did not care much for the things + that she herself cared most for. The whole world of society, its strifes, + ambitions, triumphs, defeats, rewards, did not seem to Evelyn so real or + so important as that world in which she had lived with her governess and + her tutors. And, worse than this, the estimate she placed upon the values + of material things was shockingly inadequate to her position. + </p> + <p> + That her father was a very great man was one of the earliest things Evelyn + began to know, exterior to herself. This was impressed upon her by the + deference paid to him not only at home but wherever they went, and by the + deference shown to her as his daughter. And she was proud of this. He was + not one of the great men whose careers she was familiar with in + literature, not a general or a statesman or an orator or a scientist or a + poet or a philanthropist she never thought of him in connection with these + heroes of her imagination—but he was certainly a great power in the + world. And she had for him a profound admiration, which might have become + affection if Mavick had ever taken the pains to interest himself in the + child's affairs. Her mother she loved, and believed there could be no one + in the world more sweet and graceful and attractive, and as she grew up + she yearned for more of the motherly companionship, for something more + than the odd moments of petting that were given to her in the whirl of the + life of a woman of the world. What that life was, however, she had only + the dimmest comprehension, and it was only in the last two years, since + she was sixteen, that she began to understand it, and that mainly in + contrast to her own guarded life. And she was now able to see that her own + secluded life had been unusual. + </p> + <p> + Not till long after this did she speak to any one of her experience as a + child, of the time when she became conscious that she was never alone, and + that she was only free to act within certain limits. + </p> + <p> + To McDonald, indeed, she had often shown her irritation, and it was only + the strong good sense of the governess that kept her from revolt. It was + not until very recently that it could be explained to her, without putting + her in terror hourly, why she must always be watched and guarded. + </p> + <p> + It had required all the tact and sophistry of her governess to make her + acquiesce in a system of education—so it was called-that had been + devised in order to give her the highest and purest development. That the + education was mainly left to McDonald, and that her parents were simply + anxious about her safety, she did not learn till long afterwards. In the + first years Mrs. Mavick had been greatly relieved to be spared all the + care of the baby, and as the years went on, the arrangement seemed more + and more convenient, and she gave little thought to the character that was + being formed. To Mr. Mavick, indeed, as to his wife, it was enough to see + that she was uncommonly intelligent, and that she had a certain charm that + made her attractive. Mrs. Mavick took it for granted that when it came + time to introduce her into the world she would be like other girls, eager + for its pleasures and susceptible to all its allurements. Of the direction + of the undercurrents of the girl's life she had no conception, until she + began to unfold to her the views of the world that prevailed in her + circle, and what (in the Carmen scheme of life) ought to be a woman's + ambition. + </p> + <p> + That she was to be an heiress Evelyn had long known, that she would one + day have a great fortune at her disposal had indeed come into her serious + thought, but the brilliant use of it in relation to herself, at which her + mother was always lately hinting, came to her as a disagreeable shock. For + the moment the fortune seemed to her rather a fetter than an opportunity, + if she was to fulfill her mother's expectations. These hints were conveyed + with all the tact of which her mother was master, but the girl was + nevertheless somewhat alarmed, and she began to regard the “coming out” as + an entrance into servitude rather than an enlargement of liberty. One day + she surprised Miss McDonald by asking her if she didn't think that rich + people were the only ones not free to do as they pleased? + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear, it is not generally so considered. Most people fancy that + if they had money enough they could do anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course,” said the girl, putting down her stitching and looking + up; “that is not exactly what I mean. They can go in the current, they can + do what they like with their money, but I mean with themselves. Aren't + they in a condition that binds them half the time to do what they don't + wish to do?” + </p> + <p> + “It's a condition that all the world is trying to get into.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. I've been talking with mamma about the world and about society, + and what is expected and what you must live up to.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have always known that you must one day go into the world and + take your share in life.” + </p> + <p> + “That, yes. But I would rather live up to myself. Mamma seems to think + that society will do a great deal for me, that I will get a wider view of + life, that I can do so much for society, and, with my position, mamma + says, have such a career. McDonald, what is society for?” + </p> + <p> + That was such a poser that the governess threw up her hands, and then + laughed aloud, and then shook her head. “Wiser people than you have asked + that question.” + </p> + <p> + “I asked mamma that, for she is in it all the time. She didn't like it + much, and asked, 'What is anything for?' You see, McDonald, I've been with + mamma many a time when her friends came to see her, and they never have + anything to say, never—what I call anything. I wonder if in society + they go about saying that? What do they do it for?” + </p> + <p> + Miss McDonald had her own opinion about what is called society and its + occupations and functions, but she did not propose to encourage this girl, + who would soon take her place in it, in such odd notions. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you know, child, that there is society and society? That it is all + sorts of a world, that it gets into groups and circles about, and that is + the way the world is stirred up and kept from stagnation. And, my dear, + you have just to do your duty where you are placed, and that is all there + is about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be cross, McDonald. I suppose I can think my thoughts?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you can think, and you can learn to keep a good deal that you think + to yourself. Now, Evelyn, haven't you any curiosity to see what this world + we are talking about is like?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I have,” said Evelyn, coming out of her reflective mood into a + girlish enthusiasm. “And I want to see what I shall be like in it. Only—well, + how is that?” And she held out the handkerchief she had been plying her + needle on. + </p> + <p> + Miss McDonald looked at the stitches critically, at the letters T.M. + enclosed in an oval. + </p> + <p> + “That is very good, not too mechanical. It will please your father. The + oval makes a pretty effect; but what are those signs between the letters?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you see? It is a cartouche, and those are hieroglyphics—his + name in Egyptian. I got it out of Petrie's book.” + </p> + <p> + “It certainly is odd.” + </p> + <p> + “And every one of the twelve is going to be different. It is so + interesting to hunt up the signs for qualities. If papa can read it he + will find out a good deal that I think about him.” + </p> + <p> + The governess only smiled for reply. It was so like Evelyn, so different + from others even in the commonplace task of marking handkerchiefs, to work + a little archaeology into her expression of family affection. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mavick's talks with her daughter in which she attempted to give + Evelyn some conception of her importance as the heiress of a great + fortune, of her position in society, what would be expected of her, and of + the brilliant social career her mother imagined for her, had an effect + opposite to that intended. There had been nothing in her shielded life, + provided for at every step without effort, that had given her any idea of + the value and importance of money. + </p> + <p> + To a girl in her position, educated in the ordinary way and mingling with + school companions, one of the earliest lessons would be a comprehension of + the power that wealth gave her; and by the time that she was of Evelyn's + age her opinion of men would begin to be colored by the notion that they + were polite or attentive to her on account of her fortune and not for any + charm of hers, and so a cruel suspicion of selfishness would have entered + her mind to poison the very thought of love. + </p> + <p> + No such idea had entered Evelyn's mind. She would not readily have + understood that love could have any sort of relation to riches or poverty. + And if, deep down in her heart, not acknowledged, scarcely recognized, by + herself, there had begun to grow an image about which she had sweet and + tender thoughts, it certainly did not occur to her that her father's + wealth could make any difference in the relations of friendship or even of + affection. And as for the fortune, if she was, as her mother said, some + day to be mistress of it, she began to turn over in her mind objects quite + different from the display and the career suggested by her mother, and to + think how she could use it. + </p> + <p> + In her ignorance of practical life and of what the world generally values, + of course the scheme that was rather hazy in her mind was simply Quixotic, + as appeared in a conversation with her father one evening while he smoked + his cigar. He had called Evelyn to the library, on the suggestion of + Carmen that he should “have a little talk with the girl.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mavick began, when Evelyn was seated beside him, and he had drawn her + close to him and she had taken possession of his big hand with both her + little hands, about the reception and about balls to come, and the opera, + and what was going on in New York generally in the season, and suddenly + asked: + </p> + <p> + “My dear, if you had a lot of money, what would you do with it?” + </p> + <p> + “What would you?” said the girl, looking up into his face. “What do people + generally do?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” and Mavick hesitated, “they use it to add more to it.” + </p> + <p> + “And then?” pursued the girl. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose they leave it to somebody. Suppose it was left to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't think me silly, papa; I've thought a lot about it, and I shall do + something quite different.” + </p> + <p> + “Different from what?” + </p> + <p> + “You know mamma is in the Orthopedic Hospital, and in the Ragged Schools, + and in the Infirmary, and I don't know what all.” + </p> + <p> + “And wouldn't you help them?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I would help. But everybody does those things, the practical + things, the charities; I mean to do things for the higher life.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mavick took his cigar from his mouth and looked puzzled. “You want to + build a cathedral?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't mean that sort of higher life, I mean civilization, the + things at the top. I read an essay the other day that said it was easy to + raise money for anything mechanical and practical in a school, but nobody + wanted to give for anything ideal.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right,” said her father; “the world is full of cranks. You seem as + vague as your essayist.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you remember, papa, when we were in Oxford how amused you were with + the master, or professor, who grumbled because the college was full of + students, and there wasn't a single college for research? + </p> + <p> + “I asked McDonald afterwards what he meant; that is how I first got my + idea, but I didn't see exactly what it was until recently. You've got to + cultivate the high things—that essay says—the abstract, that + which does not seem practically useful, or society will become low and + material.” + </p> + <p> + “By George!” cried Mavick, with a burst of laughter, “you've got the + lingo. Go on, I want to see where you are going to light.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll tell you some more. You know my tutor is English. McDonald + says she believes he is the most learned man in eighteenth-century + literature living, and his dream is to write a history of it. He is poor, + and engaged all the time teaching, and McDonald says he will die, no + doubt, and leave nothing of his investigations to the world.” + </p> + <p> + “And you want to endow him?” + </p> + <p> + “He is only one. There is the tutor of history. Teach, teach, teach, and + no time or strength left for investigation. You ought to hear him tell of + the things just to be found out in American history. You see what I mean? + It is plainer in the sciences. The scholars who could really make + investigations, and do something for the world, have to earn their living + and have no time or means for experiments. It seems foolish as I say it, + but I do think, papa, there is something in it.” + </p> + <p> + “And what would you do?” + </p> + <p> + Evelyn saw that she was making no headway, and her ideas, exposed to so + practical a man as her father, did seem rather ridiculous. But she struck + out boldly with the scheme that she had been evolving. + </p> + <p> + “I'd found Institutions of Research, where there should be no teaching, + and students who had demonstrated that they had anything promising in + them, in science, literature, languages, history, anything, should have + the means and the opportunity to make investigations and do work. See what + a hard time inventors and men of genius have; it is pitiful.” + </p> + <p> + “And how much money do you want for this modest scheme of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “I hadn't thought,” said Evelyn, patting her father's hand. And then, at a + venture, “I guess about ten millions.” + </p> + <p> + “Whew! Have you any idea how much ten millions are, or how much one + million is?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, ten millions, if you have a hundred, is no more than one million if + you have only ten. Doesn't it depend?” + </p> + <p> + “If it depends upon you, child, I don't think money has any value for you + whatever. You are a born financier for getting rid of a surplus. You ought + to be Secretary of the Treasury.” + </p> + <p> + Mavick rose, lifted up his daughter, and, kissing her with more than usual + tenderness, said, “You'll learn about the world in time,” and bade her + goodnight. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI + </h2> + <p> + Law and love go very well together as occupations, but, when literature is + added, the trio is not harmonious. Either of the two might pull together, + but the combination of the three is certainly disastrous. + </p> + <p> + It would be difficult to conceive of a person more obviously up in the air + than Philip at this moment. He went through his office duties + intelligently and perfunctorily, but his heart was not in the work, and + reason as he would his career did not seem to be that way. He was lured + too strongly by that siren, the ever-alluring woman who sits upon the + rocks and sings so deliciously to youth of the sweets of authorship. He + who listens once to that song hears it always in his ears, through + disappointment and success—and the success is often the greatest + disappointment—through poverty and hope deferred and heart-sickness + for recognition, through the hot time of youth and the creeping incapacity + of old age. The song never ceases. Were the longing and the hunger it + arouses ever satisfied with anything, money for instance, any more than + with fame? + </p> + <p> + And if the law had a feeble hold on him, how much more uncertain was his + grasp on literature. He had thrown his line, he had been encouraged by + nibbles, but publishers were too wary to take hold. It seemed to him that + he had literally cast his bread upon the waters, and apparently at an ebb + tide, and his venture had gone to the fathomless sea. He had put his heart + into the story, and, more than that, his hope of something dearer than any + public favor. As he went over the story in his mind, scene after scene, + and dwelt upon the theme that held the whole in unity, he felt that Evelyn + would be touched by the recognition of her part in the inspiration, and + that the great public must give some heed to it. Perhaps not the great + public—for its liking now ran in quite another direction, but a + considerable number of people like Celia, who were struggling with + problems of life, and the Alices in country homes who still preserved in + their souls a belief in the power of a noble life, and perhaps some + critics who had not rid themselves of the old traditions. If the + publishers would only give him a chance! + </p> + <p> + But if law and literature were to him little more than unsubstantial + dreams, the love he cherished was, in the cool examination of reason, + preposterous. What! the heiress of so many millions, brought up doubtless + in the expectation of the most brilliant worldly alliance, the heiress + with the world presently at her feet, would she look at a lawyer's clerk + and an unsuccessful scribbler? Oh, the vanity of youth and the conceit of + intellect! + </p> + <p> + Down in his heart Philip thought that she might. And he went on nursing + this vain passion, knowing as well as any one can know the social code, + that Mr. Mavick and Mrs. Mavick would simply laugh in his face at such a + preposterous idea. And yet he knew that he had her sympathy in his + ambition, that to a certain extent she was interested in him. The girl was + too guileless to conceal that. And then suppose he should become famous—well, + not exactly famous, but an author who was talked about, and becoming + known, and said to be promising? And then he could fancy Mavick weighing + this sort of reputation in his office scales against money, and Mrs. + Mavick weighing it in her boudoir against social position. He was a fool + to think of it. And yet, suppose, suppose the girl should come to love + him. It would not be lightly. He knew that, by looking into her deep, + clear, beautiful eyes. There were in them determination and tenacity of + purpose as well as the capability of passion. Heavens and earth, if that + girl once loved, there was a force that no opposition could subdue! That + was true. But what had he to offer to evoke such a love? + </p> + <p> + In those days Philip saw much of Celia, who at length had given up + teaching, and had come to the city to try her experiment, into which she + was willing to embark her small income. She had taken a room in the midst + of poverty and misery on the East Side, and was studying the situation. + </p> + <p> + “I am not certain,” she said, “whether I or any one else can do anything, + or whether any organization down there can effect much. But I will find + out.” + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you lonesome—and disgusted?” asked Philip. + </p> + <p> + “Disgusted? You might as well be disgusted with one thing as another. I am + generally disgusted with the way things go. But, lonely? No, there is too + much to do and to learn. And do you know, Philip, that people are more + interesting over there, more individual, have more queer sorts of + character. I begin to believe, with a lovely philanthropist I know, who + had charge of female criminals, that 'wicked women are more interesting + than good women.'” + </p> + <p> + “You have struck a rich mine of interest in New York, then.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be cynical, Phil. There are different kinds of interest. Stuff! But + I won't explain.” And then, abruptly changing the subject, “Seems to me + you have something on your mind lately. Is it the novel?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “The publishers haven't decided?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid they have.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Philip, do you know that I think the best thing that could happen + to you would be to have the story rejected.” + </p> + <p> + “It has been rejected several times,” said Philip. “That didn't seem to do + me any good.” + </p> + <p> + “But finally, so that you would stop thinking about it, stop expecting + anything that way, and take up your profession in earnest.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a nice comforter!” retorted Philip, with a sort of smirking grin + and a look of keen inspection, as if he saw something new in the character + of his adviser. “What has come over you? Suppose I should give you that + sort of sympathy in the projects you set your heart on?” + </p> + <p> + “It does seem hard and mean, doesn't it? I knew you wouldn't like it. That + is, not now. But it is for your lifetime. As for me, I've wanted so many + things and I've tried so many things. And do you know, Phil, that I have + about come to the conclusion that the best things for us in this world are + the things we don't get.” + </p> + <p> + “You are always coming to some new conclusion.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. But just look at it rationally. Suppose your story is + published, cast into the sea of new books, and has a very fair sale. What + will you get out of it? You can reckon how many copies at ten cents a copy + it will need to make as much as some writers get for a trivial magazine + paper. Recognition? Yes, from a very few people. Notoriety? You would soon + find what that is. Suppose you make what is called a 'hit.' If you did not + better that with the next book, you would be called a failure. And you + must keep at it, keep giving the public something new all the time, or you + will drop out of sight. And then the anxiety and the strain of it, and the + temptation, because you must live, to lower your ideal, and go down to + what you conceive to be the buying public. And if your story does not take + the popular fancy, where will you be then?” + </p> + <p> + “Celia, you have become a perfect materialist. You don't allow anything + for the joy of creation, for the impulse of a man's mind, for the delight + in fighting for a place in the world of letters.” + </p> + <p> + “So it seems to you now. If you have anything that must be said, of course + you ought to say it, no matter what comes after. If you are looking round + for something you can say in order to get the position you covet, that is + another thing. People so deceive themselves about this. I know literary + workers who lead a dog's life and are slaves to their pursuit, simply + because they have deceived themselves in this. I want you to be free and + independent, to live your own life and do what work you can in the world. + There, I've said it, and of course you will go right on. I know you. And + maybe I am all wrong. When I see the story I may take the other side and + urge you to go on, even if you are as poor as a church-mouse, and have to + be under the harrow of poverty for years.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you have some curiosity to see the story?” + </p> + <p> + “You know I have. And I know I shall like it. It isn't that, Phil; it is + what is the happiest career for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will send it to you when it comes back.” + </p> + <p> + But the unexpected happened. It did not come back. One morning Philip + received a letter from the publishers that set his head in a whirl. The + story was accepted. The publisher wrote that the verdict of the readers + was favorable, and he would venture on it, though he cautioned Mr. Burnett + not to expect a great commercial success. And he added, as to terms, it + being a new name, though he hoped one that would become famous, that the + copyright of ten per cent. would not begin until after the sale of the + first thousand copies. + </p> + <p> + The latter part of the letter made no impression on Philip. So long as the + book was published, and by a respectable firm, he was indifferent as a + lord to the ignoble details of royalty. The publisher had recognized the + value of the book, and it was accepted on its merits. That was enough. The + first thing he did was to enclose the letter to Celia, with the simple + remark that he would try to sympathize with her in her disappointment. + </p> + <p> + Philip would have been a little less jubilant if he had known how the + decision of the publishing house was arrived at. It was true that the + readers had reported favorably, but had refused to express any opinion on + the market value. The manuscript had therefore been put in the graveyard + of manuscripts, from which there is commonly no resurrection except in the + funeral progress of the manuscript back to the author. But the head of the + house happened to dine at the house of Mr. Hunt, the senior of Philip's + law firm. Some chance allusion was made by a lady to an article in a + recent magazine which had pleased her more than anything she had seen + lately. Mr. Hunt also had seen it, for his wife had insisted on reading it + to him, and he was proud to say that the author was a clerk in his office—a + fine fellow, who, he always fancied, had more taste for literature than + for law, but he had the stuff in him to succeed in anything. The publisher + pricked up his ears and asked some questions. He found that Mr. Burnett + stood well in the most prominent law firm in the city, that ladies of + social position recognized his talent, that he dined here and there in a + good set, and that he belonged to one of the best clubs. When he went to + his office the next morning he sent for the manuscript, looked it over + critically, and then announced to his partners that he thought the thing + was worth trying. + </p> + <p> + In a day or two it was announced in the advertising lists as forthcoming. + There it stared Philip in the face and seemed to be the only conspicuous + thing in the journal. He had not paid much attention before to the + advertisements, but now this department seemed the most interesting part + of the paper, and he read every announcement, and then came back and read + his over and over. There it stood:—“On Saturday, The Puritan Nun. An + Idyl. By Philip Burnett.” + </p> + <p> + The naming of the book had been almost as difficult as the creation. His + first choice had been “The Lily of the Valley,” but Balzac had pre-empted + that. And then he had thought of “The Enclosed Garden” (Hortus Clausus), + the title of a lovely picture he had seen. That was Biblical, but in the + present ignorance of the old scriptures it would be thought either + agricultural or sentimental. It is not uncommon that a book owes its + notoriety and sale to its title, and it is not easy to find a title that + will attract attention without being too sensational. The title chosen was + paradoxical, for while a nun might be a puritan, it was unthinkable that a + Puritan should be a nun. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brad said he liked it, because it looked well and did not mean + anything; he liked all such titles, the “Pious Pirate,” the “Lucid + Lunatic,” the “Sympathetic Siren,” the “Guileless Girl,” and so on. + </p> + <p> + The announcement of publication had the effect of putting Philip in high + spirits for the Mavick reception-spirits tempered, however, by the + embarrassment natural to a modest man that he would be painfully + conspicuous. This first placarding of one's name is a peculiar and mixed + sensation. The letters seem shamefully naked, and the owner seems exposed + and to have parted with a considerable portion of his innate privacy. His + first fancy is that everybody will see it. But this fancy only comes once. + With experience he comes to doubt if anybody except himself will see it. + </p> + <p> + To those most concerned the Mavick reception was the event of a lifetime. + To the town—that is, to a thousand or two persons occupying in their + own eyes an exclusive position it was one of the events of the season, + and, indeed, it was the sensation for a couple of days. The historian of + social life formerly had put upon him the task of painfully describing all + that went to make such an occasion brilliant—the house itself, the + decorations, the notable company, men distinguished in the State or the + Street, women as remarkable for their beauty as for their courage in its + exhibition, the whole world of fashion and of splendid extravagance upon + which the modiste and the tailor could look with as much pride as the + gardener does upon a show of flowers which his genius has brought to + perfection. + </p> + <p> + The historian has no longer this responsibility. It is transferred to a + kind of trust. A race of skillful artists has arisen, who, in combination + with the caterers, the decorators, and the milliners, produce a composite + piece of literature in which all details are woven into a splendid whole—a + composition rhetorical, humorous, lyrical, a noble apotheosis of wealth + and beauty which carefully satisfies individual vanity and raises in the + mind a noble picture of modern civilization. The pen and the pencil + contribute to this splendid result in the daily chronicle of our life. + Those who are not present are really witnesses of the scene, and this + pictorial and literary triumph is justified in the fact that no other + effort of the genius of reproduction is so eagerly studied by the general + public. Not only in the city, but in the remote villages, these accounts + are perused with interest, and it must be taken as an evidence of the new + conception of the duties of the favored of fortune to the public pleasure + that the participants in these fetes overcome, though reluctantly, their + objection to notoriety. + </p> + <p> + No other people in the world are so hospitable as the Americans, and so + willing to incur discomfort in showing hospitality. No greater proof of + this can be needed than the effort to give princely entertainments in + un-princely houses, where opposing streams of guests fight for progress in + scant passages and on narrow stairways, and pack themselves in stifling + rooms. The Mavick house, it should be said, was perfectly adapted to the + throng that seemed to fill but did not crowd it. The spacious halls, the + noble stairways, the ample drawing-rooms, the ballroom, the music-room, + the library, the picture-gallery, the dining-room, the conservatory—into + these the crowd flowed or lingered without confusion or annoyance and in a + continual pleasure of surprise. “The best point of view,” said an artist + of Philip's acquaintance, “is just here.” They were standing in the great + hall looking up at that noble gallery from which flowed down on either + hand a broad stairway. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know there was so much beauty in New York. It never before had + such an opportunity to display itself. There is room for the exhibition of + the most elaborate toilets, and the costumes really look regal in such a + setting.” + </p> + <p> + When Philip was shown to the dressing-room, conscious that the servant was + weighing him lightly in the social scale on account of his early arrival, + he found a few men who were waiting to make their appearance more + seasonable. They were young men, who had the air of being bored by this + sort of thing, and greeted each other with a look of courteous surprise, + as much as to say, “Hello! you here?” One of them, whom Philip knew + slightly, who had the reputation of being the distributer if not the + fountain of social information, and had the power of attracting gossip as + a magnet does iron filings, gave Philip much valuable information + concerning the function. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Mavick has done it this time. Everybody has tumbled in. Washington + is drained of its foreign diplomats, the heavy part of the cabinet is + moved over to represent the President, who sent a gracious letter, the + select from Boston, the most ancient from Philadelphia, and I know that + Chicago comes in a special train. Oh, it's the thing. I assure you there + was a scramble for invitations in the city. Lots of visiting nobility—Count + de l'Auney, I know, and that little snob, Lord Montague.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Crewe Monmouth Fitzwilliam, the Marquis of Montague, eldest son of + the Duke of Tewkesbury. He's a daisy. + </p> + <p> + “They say he is over here looking for capital to carry on his peer + business when he comes into it. Don't know who put up the money for the + trip. These foreigners keep a sharp eye on our market, I can tell you. + They say she is a nice little girl, rather a blue-stocking, face rather + intelligent than pretty, but Montague won't care for that—excuse the + old joke, but it is the figure Monte is after. He hasn't any manners, but + he's not a bad sort of a fellow, generally good-natured, immensely pleased + with New York, and an enthusiastic connoisseur in club drinks.” + </p> + <p> + At the proper hour—the hour, it came into, his mind, when the dear + ones at Rivervale had been long in sleep, lulled by the musical flow of + the Deerfield—Philip made his way to the reception room, where there + actually was some press of a crowd, in lines, to approach the attraction + of the evening, and as he waited his turn he had leisure to observe the + brilliant scene. There was scarcely a person in the room he knew. One or + two ladies gave him a preoccupied nod, a plain little woman whom he had + talked with about books at a recent dinner smiled upon him encouragingly. + But what specially impressed him at the moment was the seriousness of the + function, the intentness upon the presentation, and the look of worry on + the faces of the women in arranging trains and avoiding catastrophes. + </p> + <p> + As he approached he fancied that Mr. Mavick looked weary and bored, and + that a shade of abstraction occasionally came over his face as if it were + difficult to keep his thoughts on the changing line. + </p> + <p> + But his face lighted up a little when he took Philip's hand and exchanged + with him the commonplaces of the evening. But before this he had to wait a + moment, for he was preceded by an important personage. A dapper little + figure, trim, neat, at the moment drew himself up before Mrs. Mavick, + brought his heels together with a click, and made a low bow. Doubtless + this was the French count. Mrs. Mavick was radiant. Philip had never seen + her in such spirits or so fascinating in manner. + </p> + <p> + “It is a great honor, count.” + </p> + <p> + “It ees to me,” said the count, with a marked accent; “I assure you it is + like Paris in ze time of ze monarchy. Ah, ze Great Republic, madame—so + it was in France in ze ancien regime. Ah, mademoiselle! Permit me,” and he + raised her hand to his lips; “I salute—is it not” (turning to Mrs. + Mavick)—“ze princess of ze house?” + </p> + <p> + The next man who shook hands with the host, and then stood in an easy + attitude before the hostess, attracted Philip's attention strongly, for he + fancied from the deference shown him it must be the lord of whom he had + heard. He was a short, little man, with heavy limbs and a clumsy figure, + reddish hair, very thin on the crown, small eyes that were not improved in + expression by white eyebrows, a red face, smooth shaven and freckled. It + might have been the face of a hostler or a billiard-marker. + </p> + <p> + “I am delighted, my lord, that you could make room in your engagements to + come.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Mrs. Mavick, I wouldn't have missed it,” said my lord, with easy + assurance; “I'd have thrown over anything to have come. And, do you know” + (looking about him coolly), “it's quite English, 'pon my honor, quite + English—St. James and that sort of thing.” + </p> + <p> + “You flatter me, my lord,” replied the lady of the house, with a winning + smile. + </p> + <p> + “No, I do assure you, it's bang-up. Ah, Miss Mavick, delighted, delighted. + Most charming. Lucky for me, wasn't it? I'm just in time.” + </p> + <p> + “You've only recently come over, Lord Montague?” asked Evelyn. + </p> + <p> + “Been here before—Rockies, shooting, all that. Just arrived now—beastly + trip, beastly.” + </p> + <p> + “And so you were glad to land?” + </p> + <p> + “Glad to land anywhere. But New York suits me down to the ground. It goes, + as you say over here. You know Paris?” + </p> + <p> + “We have been in Paris. You prefer it?” + </p> + <p> + “For some thing. Paris as it was in the Empire. For sport, no. For horses, + no. And” (looking boldly into her face) “when you speak of American women, + Paris ain't in it, as you say over here.” + </p> + <p> + And the noble lord, instead of passing on, wheeled about and took a + position near Evelyn, so that he could drop his valuable observations into + her ear as occasion offered. + </p> + <p> + To Philip Mrs. Mavick was civil, but she did not beam upon him, and she + did not detain him longer than to say, “Glad to see you.” But Evelyn—could + Philip be deceived?—she gave him her hand cordially and looked into + his eyes trustfully, as she had the habit of doing in the country, and as + if it were a momentary relief to her to encounter in all this parade a + friend. + </p> + <p> + “I need not say that I am glad you could come. And oh” (there was time + only for a word), “I saw the announcement. Later, if you can, you will + tell me more about it.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Montague stared at him as if to say, “Who the deuce are you?” and as + Philip met his gaze he thought, “No, he hasn't the manner of a stable boy; + no one but a born nobleman could be so confident with women and so + supercilious to men.” + </p> + <p> + But my lord, was little in his thought. It was the face of Evelyn that he + saw, and the dainty little figure; the warmth of the little hand still + thrilled him. So simple, and only a bunch of violets in her corsage for + all ornament! The clear, dark complexion, the sweet mouth, the wonderful + eyes! What could Jenks mean by intimating that she was plain? + </p> + <p> + Philip drifted along with the crowd. He was very much alone. And he + enjoyed his solitude. A word and a smile now and then from an acquaintance + did not tempt him to come out of his seclusion. The gay scene pleased him. + He looked for a moment into the ballroom. At another time he would have + tried his fortune in the whirl. But now he looked on as at a spectacle + from which he was detached. He had had his moment and he waited for + another. The voluptuous music, the fascinating toilets, the beautiful + faces, the graceful forms that were woven together in this shifting + kaleidoscope, were, indeed, a part of his beautiful dream. But how unreal + they all were! There was no doubt that Evelyn's eyes had kindled for him + as for no one else whom she had greeted. She singled him out in all this + crush, her look, the cordial pressure of her hand, conveyed the feeling of + comradeship and understanding. This was enough to fill his thought with + foolish anticipations. Is there any being quite so happy, quite so stupid, + as a lover? A lover, who hopes everything and fears everything, who goes + in an instant from the heights of bliss to the depths of despair. + </p> + <p> + When the “reception” was over and the company was breaking up into groups + and moving about, Philip again sought Evelyn. But she was the centre of a + somewhat noisy group, and it was not easy to join it. + </p> + <p> + Yet it was something that he could feast his eyes on her and was rewarded + by a look now and then that told him she was conscious of his presence. + Encouraged by this, he was making his way to her, when there was a + movement towards the supper-room, and Mrs. Mavick had taken the arm of the + Count de l'Auney, and the little lord was jauntily leading away Evelyn. + Philip had a pang of disgust and jealousy. Evelyn was actually chatting + with him and seemed amused. Lord Montague was evidently laying himself out + to please and exerting all the powers of his subtle humor and exploiting + his newly acquired slang. That Philip could hear as they moved past him. + “The brute!” Philip said to himself, with the injustice which always + clouds the estimate of a lover of a rival whose accomplishments differ + from his own. + </p> + <p> + In the supper-room, however, in the confusion and crowding of it, Philip + at length found his opportunity to get to the side of Evelyn, whose smile + showed him that he was welcome. It was in that fortunate interval when + Lord Montague was showing that devotion to women was not incompatible with + careful attention to terrapin and champagne. Philip was at once inspired + to say: + </p> + <p> + “How lovely it is! Aren't you tired?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. Everybody is very kind, and some are very amusing. I am + learning a great deal,” and there was a quizzical look in her eyes, “about + the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Philip, “t's all here.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so. But do you know,” and there was quite an ingenuous blush in + her cheeks as she said it, “it isn't half so nice, Mr. Burnett, as a + picnic in Zoar.” + </p> + <p> + “So you remember that?” Philip had not command of himself enough not to + attempt the sentimental. + </p> + <p> + “You must think I have a weak memory,” she replied, with a laugh. “And the + story? When shall we have it?” + </p> + <p> + “Soon, I hope. And, Miss Mavick, I owe so much of it to you that I hope + you will let me send you the very first copy from the press.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you? And do you Of course I shall be pleased and” (making him a + little curtsy) “honored, as one ought to say in this company.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Montague was evidently getting uneasy, for his attention was + distracted from the occupation of feeding. + </p> + <p> + “No, don't go Lord Montague, an old friend, Mr. Burnett.” + </p> + <p> + “Much pleased,” said his lordship, looking round rather inquiringly at the + intruder. “I can't say much for the champagne—ah, not bad, you know—but + I always said that your terrapin isn't half so nasty as it looks.” And his + lordship laughed most good-humoredly, as if he were paying the American + nation a deserved compliment. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Philip, “we have to depend upon France for the champagne, but + the terrapin is native.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so, and devilish good! That ain't bad, 'depend upon France for the + champagne!' There is nothing like your American humor, Miss Mavick.” + </p> + <p> + “It needs an Englishman to appreciate it,” replied Evelyn, with a twinkle + in her eyes which was lost upon her guest. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of these courtesies Philip bowed himself away. The party was + over for him, though he wandered about for a while, was attracted again by + the music to the ballroom, and did find there a dinner acquaintance with + whom he took a turn. The lady must have thought him a very uninteresting + or a very absent-minded companion. + </p> + <p> + As for Lord Montague, after he had what he called a “go” in the + dancing-room, he found his way back to the buffet in the supper-room, and + the historian says that he greatly enjoyed himself, and was very amusing, + and that he cultivated the friendship of an obliging waiter early in the + morning, who conducted his lordship to his cab. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII + </h2> + <p> + The morning after The Puritan Nun was out, as Philip sat at his office + desk, conscious that the eyes of the world were on him, Mr. Mavick + entered, bowed to him absent-mindedly, and was shown into Mr. Hunt's room. + </p> + <p> + Philip had dreaded to come to the office that morning and encounter the + inquisition and perhaps the compliments of his fellow-clerks. He had seen + his name in staring capitals in the book-seller's window as he came down, + and he felt that it was shamefully exposed to the public gaze, and that + everybody had seen it. The clerks, however, gave no sign that the event + had disturbed them. He had encountered many people he knew on the street, + but there had been no recognition of his leap into notoriety. Not a fellow + in the club, where he had stopped a moment, had treated him with any + increased interest or deference. In the office only one person seemed + aware of his extraordinary good fortune. Mr. Tweedle had come to the desk + and offered his hand in his usual conciliatory and unctuous manner. + </p> + <p> + “I see by the paper, Mr. Burnett, that we are an author. Let me + congratulate you. Mrs. Tweedle told me not to come home without bringing + your story. Who publishes it?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be much honored,” said Philip, blushing, “if Mrs. Tweedle will + accept a copy from me.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mean that, Mr. Burnett; but, of course, gift of the author—Mrs. + Tweedle will be very much pleased.” + </p> + <p> + In half an hour Mr. Mavick came out, passed him without recognition, and + hurried from the office, and Philip was summoned to Mr. Hunt's room. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to go to Washington immediately, Mr. Burnett. Return by the + night train. You can do without your grip? Take these papers to Buckston + Higgins—you see the address—who represents the British + Argentine syndicate. Wait till he reads them and get his reply. Here is + the money for the trip. Oh, after Mr. Higgins writes his answer, ask him + if you can telegraph me 'yes' or 'no.' Good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + While Philip was speeding to Washington, an important conference was + taking place in Murad Ault's office. He was seated at his desk, and before + him lay two despatches, one from Chicago and a cable from London. Opposite + him, leaning forward in his chair, was a lean, hatchet-faced man, with + keen eyes and aquiline nose, who watched his old curbstone confidant like + a cat. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, Wheatstone,” said Mr. Ault, with an unmoved face, bringing + his fist down on the table, “now is the time to sell these three stocks.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said Mr. Wheatstone, with a look of wonder, “they are about the + strongest on the list. Mavick controls them.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he?” said Ault. “Then he can take care of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any news, Mr. Ault?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing to speak of,” replied Ault, grimly. “It just looks so to me. All + you've got to do is to sell. Make a break this afternoon, about two or + three points off.” + </p> + <p> + “They are too strong,” protested Mr. Wheatstone. + </p> + <p> + “That is just the reason. Everybody will think something must be the + matter, or nobody would be fool enough to sell. You keep your eye on the + Spectrum this afternoon and tomorrow morning. About Organization and one + or two other matters.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, they do say that Mavick is in Argentine up to his neck,” said the + broker, beginning to be enlightened. + </p> + <p> + “Is he? Then you think he would rather sell than buy?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wheatstone laughed and looked admiringly at his leader. “He may have + to.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ault took up the cable cipher and read it to himself again. If Mr. + Hunt had known its contents he need not have waited for Philip to + telegraph “no” from Washington. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right, Wheatstone. It's the biggest thing you ever struck. Pitch + 'em overboard in the morning. The Street is shaky about Argentine. + There'll be h—-to pay before half past twelve. I guess you can + safely go ten points. Lower yet, if Mavick's brokers begin to unload. I + guess he will have to unless he can borrow. Rumor is a big thing, + especially in a panic, eh? Keep your eye peeled. And, oh, won't you ask + Babcock to step round here?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Babcock came round, and had his instructions when to buy. He had the + reputation of being a reckless broker, and not a safe man to follow. + </p> + <p> + The panic next day, both in London and New York, was long remembered. In + the unreasoning scare the best stocks were sacrificed. Small country + “investors” lost their stakes. Some operators were ruined. Many men were + poorer at the end of the scrimmage, and a few were richer. Murad Ault was + one of the latter. Mavick pulled through, though at an enormous cost, and + with some diminution of the notion of his solidity. The wise ones + suspected that his resources had been overestimated, or that they were not + so well at his command as had been supposed. + </p> + <p> + When he went home that night he looked five years older, and was too worn + and jaded to be civil to his family. The dinner passed mostly in silence. + Carmen saw that something serious had happened. Lord Montague had called. + </p> + <p> + “Eh, what did he want?” said Mavick, surlily. + </p> + <p> + Carmen looked up surprised. “What does anybody after a reception call + for?” + </p> + <p> + “The Lord only knows.” + </p> + <p> + “He is the funniest little man,” Evelyn ventured to say. + </p> + <p> + “That is no way, child, to speak of the son of a duke,” said Mavick, + relaxing a little. + </p> + <p> + Carmen did not like the tone in which this was said, but she prudently + kept silent. And presently Evelyn continued: + </p> + <p> + “He asked for you, papa, and said he wanted to pay his respects.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad he wants to pay anything,” was the ungracious answer. Still + Evelyn was not to be put down. + </p> + <p> + “It was such a bright day in the Park. What were you doing all day, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear, I was engaged in Research; you will be pleased to know. + Looking after those ten millions.” + </p> + <p> + When the dinner was over, Carmen followed Mr. Mavick to his study. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing uncommon. It's a beastly hole down there. The Board used to be + made up of gentlemen. Now there are such fellows as Ault, a black-hearted + scoundrel.” + </p> + <p> + “But he has no influence. He is nothing socially,” said Carmen. + </p> + <p> + “Neither is a wolf or a cyclone. But I don't care to talk about him. Don't + you see, I don't want to be bothered?” + </p> + <p> + While these great events were taking place Philip was enjoying all the + tremors and delights of expectation which attend callow authorship. He did + not expect much, he said to himself, but deep down in his heart there was + that sweet hope, which fortunately always attends young writers, that his + would be an exceptional experience in the shoal of candidates for fame, + and he was secretly preparing himself not to be surprised if he should + “awake one morning and find himself famous.” + </p> + <p> + The first response was from Celia. She wrote warm-heartedly. She wrote at + length, analyzing the characters, recalling the striking scenes, and + praising without stint the conception and the working out of the character + of the heroine. She pointed out the little faults of construction and of + language, and then minimized them in comparison with the noble motive and + the unity and beauty of the whole. She told Philip that she was proud of + him, and then insisted that, when his biography, life, and letters was + published, it would appear, she hoped, that his dear friend had just a + little to do with inspiring him. It was exactly the sort of letter an + author likes to receive, critical, perfectly impartial, and with entire + understanding of his purpose. All the author wants is to be understood. + </p> + <p> + The letter from Alice was quite of another sort, a little shy in speaking + of the story, but full of affection. “Perhaps, dear Phil,” she wrote, “I + ought not to tell you how much I like it, how it quite makes me blush in + its revelation of the secrets of a New England girl's heart. I read it + through fast, and then I read it again slowly. It seemed better even the + second time. I do think, Phil, it is a dear little book. Patience says she + hopes it will not become common; it is too fine to be nosed about by the + ordinary. I suppose you had to make it pathetic. Dear me! that is just the + truth of it. Forgive me for writing so freely. I hope it will not be long + before we see you. To think it is done by little Phil!” + </p> + <p> + The most eagerly expected acknowledgment was, however, a disappointment. + Philip knew Mrs. Mavick too well by this time to expect a letter from her + daughter, but there might have been a line. But Mrs. Mavick wrote herself. + Her daughter, she said, had asked her to acknowledge the receipt of his + very charming story. When he had so many friends it was very thoughtful in + him to remember the acquaintances of last summer. She hoped the book would + have the success it deserved. + </p> + <p> + This polite note was felt to be a slap in the face, but the effect of it + was softened a little later by a cordial and appreciative letter from Miss + McDonald, telling the author what great delight and satisfaction they had + had in reading it, and thanking him for a prose idyl that showed in the + old-fashioned way that common life was not necessarily vulgar. + </p> + <p> + The critics seemed to Philip very slow in letting the public know of the + birth of the book. Presently, however, the little notices, all very much + alike, began to drop along, longer or shorter paragraphs, commonly in + undiscriminating praise of the beauty of the story, the majority of them + evidently written by reviewers who sat down to a pile of volumes to be + turned off, and who had not more than five or ten minutes to be lost. + Rarely, however, did any one condemn it, and that showed that it was + harmless. Mr. Brad had given it quite a lift in the Spectrum. The notice + was mainly personal—the first work of a brilliant young man at the + bar who was destined to go high in his profession, unless literature + should, fortunately for the public, have stronger attractions for him. + That such a country idyl should be born amid law-books was sufficiently + remarkable. It was an open secret that the scene of the story was the + birthplace of the author—a lovely village that was brought into + notice a summer ago as the chosen residence of Thomas Mavick and his + family. + </p> + <p> + Eagerly looked for at first, the newspaper notices soon palled upon + Philip, the uniform tone of good-natured praise, unanimous in the + extravagance of unmeaning adjectives. Now and then he welcomed one that + was ill-natured and cruelly censorious. That was a relief. And yet there + were some reviews of a different sort, half a dozen in all, and half of + them from Western journals, which took the book seriously, saw its pathos, + its artistic merit, its failure of construction through inexperience. A + few commended it warmly to readers who loved ideal purity and could + recognize the noble in common life. And some, whom Philip regarded as + authorities, welcomed a writer who avoided sensationalism, and predicted + for him an honorable career in letters, if he did not become + self-conscious and remained true to his ideals. The book clearly had not + made a hit, the publishers had sold one edition and ordered half another, + and no longer regarded the author as a risk. But, better than this, the + book had attracted the attention of many lovers of literature. Philip was + surprised day after day by meeting people who had read it. His name began + to be known in a small circle who are interested in the business, and it + was not long before he had offers from editors, who were always on the + lookout for new writers of promise, to send something for their magazines. + And, perhaps more flattering than all, he began to have society + invitations to dine, and professional invitations to those little + breakfasts that publishers give to old writers and to young whose names + are beginning to be spoken of. All this was very exhilarating and + encouraging. And yet Philip was not allowed to be unduly elated by the + attention of his fellow-craftsmen, for he soon found that a man's + consequence in this circle, as well as with the great public, depended + largely upon the amount of the sale of his book. How else should it be + rated, when a very popular author, by whom Philip sat one day at luncheon, + confessed that he never read books? + </p> + <p> + “So,” said Mr. Sharp, one morning, “I see you have gone into literature, + Mr. Burnett.” + </p> + <p> + “Not very deep,” replied Philip with a smile, as he rose from his desk. + </p> + <p> + “Going to drop law, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't had occasion to drop much of anything yet,” said Philip, still + smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Oh well, two masters, you know,” and Mr. Sharp passed on to his room. + </p> + <p> + It was not, however, Mr. Sharp's opinion that Philip was concerned about. + The polite note from Mrs. Mavick stuck in his mind. It was a civil way of + telling him that all summer debts were now paid, and that his relations + with the house of Mavick were at an end. This conclusion was forced upon + him when he left his card, a few days after the reception, and had the ill + luck not to find the ladies at home. The situation had no element of + tragedy in it, but Philip was powerless. He could not storm the house. He + had no visible grievance. There was nothing to fight. He had simply run + against one of the invisible social barriers that neither offer resistance + nor yield. No one had shown him any discourtesy that society would + recognize as a matter of offense. Nay, more than that, it could have no + sympathy with him. It was only the case of a presumptuous and poor young + man who was after a rich girl. The position itself was ignoble, if it were + disclosed. + </p> + <p> + Yet fortune, which sometimes likes to play the mischief with the best + social arrangements, did give Philip an unlooked-for chance. At a dinner + given by the lady who had been Philip's only partner at the Mavick + reception, and who had read his story and had written to “her partner” a + most kind little note regretting that she had not known she was dancing + with an author, and saying that she and her husband would be delighted to + make his acquaintance, Philip was surprised by the presence of the Mavicks + in the drawing-room. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Mavick seemed especially pleased + when they encountered him, and in fact his sole welcome from the family + was in the eyes of Evelyn. + </p> + <p> + The hostess had supposed that the Mavicks would be pleased to meet the + rising author, and in still further carrying out her benevolent purpose, + and with, no doubt, a sympathy in the feelings of the young, Mrs. Van + Cortlandt had assigned Miss Mavick to Mr. Burnett. It was certainly a + natural arrangement, and yet it called a blank look to Mrs. Mavick's face, + that Philip saw, and put her in a bad humor which needed an effort for her + to conceal it from Mr. Van Cortlandt. The dinner-party was large, and her + ill-temper was not assuaged by the fact that the young people were seated + at a distance from her and on the same side of the table. + </p> + <p> + “How charming your daughter is looking, Mrs. Mavick!” Mr. Van Cortlandt + began, by way of being agreeable. Mrs. Mavick inclined her head. “That + young Burnett seems to be a nice sort of chap; Mrs. Van Cortlandt says he + is very clever.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't read his book. They say he is a lawyer.” + </p> + <p> + “Lawyer's clerk, I believe,” said Mrs. Mavick, indifferently. + </p> + <p> + “Authors are pretty plenty nowadays.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a fact. Everybody writes. I don't see how all the poor devils + live.” Mr. Van Cortlandt had now caught the proper tone, and the + conversation drifted away from personalities. + </p> + <p> + It was a very brilliant dinner, but Philip could not have given much + account of it. He made an effort to be civil to his left-hand neighbor, + and he affected an ease in replying to cross-table remarks. He fancied + that he carried himself very well, and so he did for a man unexpectedly + elevated to the seventh heaven, seated for two hours beside the girl whose + near presence filled him with indescribable happiness. Every look, every + tone of her voice thrilled him. How dear she was! how adorable she was! + How radiantly happy she seemed to be whenever she turned her face towards + him to ask a question or to make a reply! + </p> + <p> + At moments his passion seemed so overmastering that he could hardly + restrain himself from whispering, “Evelyn, I love you.” In a hundred ways + he was telling her so. And she must understand. She must know that this + was not an affair of the moment, but that there was condensed in it all + the constant devotion of months and months. + </p> + <p> + A woman, even any girl with the least social experience, would have seen + this. Was Evelyn's sympathetic attention, her evident enjoyment in talking + with him, any evidence of a personal interest, or only a young girl's + enjoyment of her new position in the world? That she liked him he was + sure. Did she, was she beginning in any degree to return his passion? He + could not tell, for guilelessness in a woman is as impenetrable as + coquetry. + </p> + <p> + Of what did they talk? A stenographer would have made a meagre report of + it, for the most significant part of this conversation of two fresh, + honest natures was not in words. One thing, however, Philip could bring + away with him that was not a mere haze of delicious impressions. She had + been longing, she said, to talk to him about his story. She told him how + eagerly she had read it, and in talking about its meaning she revealed to + him her inner thought more completely than she could have done in any + other way, her sympathy with his mind, her interest in his work. + </p> + <p> + “Have you begun another?” she asked, at last. + </p> + <p> + “No, not on paper.” + </p> + <p> + “But you must. It must be such a world to you. I can't imagine anything so + fine as that. There is so much about life to be said. To make people see + it as it is; yes, and as it ought to be. Will you?” + </p> + <p> + “You forget that I am a lawyer.” + </p> + <p> + “And you prefer to be that, a lawyer, rather than an author?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not exactly what I prefer, Miss Mavick.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? Does anybody do anything well if his heart is not in it?” + </p> + <p> + “But circumstances sometimes compel a man.” + </p> + <p> + “I like better for men to compel circumstances,” the girl exclaimed, with + that disposition to look at things in the abstract that Philip so well + remembered. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I do not make myself understood. One must have a career.” + </p> + <p> + “A career?” And Evelyn looked puzzled for a moment. “You mean for himself, + for his own self?” There is a lawyer who comes to see papa. I've been in + the room sometimes, when they don't mind. Such talk about schemes, and how + to do this and that, and twisting about. And not a word about anything any + of the time. And one day when he was waiting for papa I talked with him. + You would have been surprised. + </p> + <p> + “I told papa that I could not find anything to interest him. Papa laughed + and said it was my fault, he was one of the sharpest lawyers in the city. + Would you rather be that than to write?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all lawyers are not like that. And, don't you know, literature + doesn't pay.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have heard that.” And then she thought a minute and with a + quizzical look continued: “That is such a queer word, 'pay.' McDonald says + that it pays to be good. Do you think, Mr. Burnett, that law would pay + you?” + </p> + <p> + Evidently the girl had a standard of judging people that was not much in + use. + </p> + <p> + Before they rose from the table, Philip asked, speaking low, “Miss Mavick, + won't you give me a violet from your bunch in memory of this evening?” + </p> + <p> + Evelyn hesitated an instant, and then, without looking up, disengaged + three, and shyly laid them at her left hand. “I like the number three + better.” + </p> + <p> + Philip covered the flowers with his hand, and said, “I will keep them + always.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a long time,” Evelyn answered, but still without looking up. But + when they rose the color mounted to her cheeks, and Philip thought that + the glorious eyes turned upon him were full of trust. + </p> + <p> + “It is all your doing,” said Carmen, snappishly, when Mavick joined her in + the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “What is?” + </p> + <p> + “You insisted upon having him at the reception.” + </p> + <p> + “Burnett? Oh, stuff, he isn't a fool!” + </p> + <p> + There was not much said as the three drove home. Evelyn, flushed with + pleasure and absorbed in her own thoughts, saw that something had gone + wrong with her mother and kept silent. Mr. Mavick at length broke the + silence with: + </p> + <p> + “Did you have a good time, child?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” replied Evelyn, cheerfully, “and Mrs. Van Cortlandt was very + sweet to me. Don't you think she is very hospitable, mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “Tries to be,” Mrs. Mavick replied, in no cordial tone. “Good-natured and + eccentric. She picks up the queerest lot of people. You can never know + whom you will not meet at her house. Just now she goes in for being + literary.” + </p> + <p> + Evelyn was not so reticent with McDonald. While she was undressing she + disclosed that she had had a beautiful evening, that she was taken out by + Mr. Burnett, and talked about his story. + </p> + <p> + “And, do you know, I think I almost persuaded him to write another.” + </p> + <p> + “It's an awful responsibility,” dryly said the shrewd Scotch woman, + “advising young men what to do.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII + </h2> + <p> + Upon the recollection of this dinner Philip maintained his hope and + courage for a long time. The day after it, New York seemed more brilliant + to him than it had ever been. In the afternoon he rode down to the + Battery. It was a mild winter day, with a haze in the atmosphere that + softened all outlines and gave an enchanting appearance to the harbor + shores. The water was silvery, and he watched a long time the craft plying + on it—the businesslike ferry-boats, the spiteful tugs, the great + ocean steamers, boldly pushing out upon the Atlantic through the Narrows + or cautiously drawing in as if weary with the buffeting of the waves. The + scene kindled in him a vigorous sense of life, of prosperity, of longing + for the activity of the great world. + </p> + <p> + Clearly he must do something and not be moping in indecision. Uncertainty + is harder to bear than disaster itself. When he thought of Evelyn, and he + always thought of her, it seemed cowardly to hesitate. Celia, after her + first outburst of enthusiasm, had returned to her cautious advice. The law + was much surer. Literature was a mere chance. Why not be content with his + little success and buckle down to his profession? Perhaps by-and-by he + would have leisure to indulge his inclination. The advice seemed sound. + </p> + <p> + But there was Evelyn, with her innocent question. + </p> + <p> + “Would the law pay you?” Evelyn? Would he be more likely to win her by + obeying the advice of Celia, or by trusting to Evelyn's inexperienced + discernment? Indeed, what chance was there to win her at all? What had he + to offer her? + </p> + <p> + His spirits invariably fell when he thought of submitting his pretensions + to the great man of Wall Street or to his worldly wife. Already it was the + gossip of the clubs that Lord Montague was a frequent visitor at the + Mavicks', that he was often seen in their box at the opera, and that Mrs. + Mavick had said to Bob Shafter that it was a scandal to talk of Lord + Montague as a fortune-hunter. He was a most kind-hearted, domestic man. + She should not join in the newspaper talk about him. He belonged to an old + English family, and she should be civil to him. Generally she did not + fancy Englishmen, and this one she liked neither better nor worse because + he had a title. And when you came to that, why shouldn't any American girl + marry her equal? + </p> + <p> + As to Montague, he was her friend, and she knew that he had not the least + intention at present of marrying anybody. And then the uncharitable gossip + went on, that there was the Count de l'Auney, and that Mrs. Mavick was + playing the one off against the other. + </p> + <p> + As the days went on and spring began to appear in the light, fleeting + clouds in the blue sky and in the greening foliage in the city squares, + Philip became more and more restless. The situation was intolerable. + Evelyn he could never see. Perhaps she wondered that he made no effort to + see her. Perhaps she never thought of him at all, and simply, like an + obedient child, accepted her mother's leading, and was getting to like + that society life which was recorded in the daily journals. What did it + matter to him whether he stuck to the law or launched himself into the + Bohemia of literature, so long as doubt about Evelyn haunted him day and + night? If she was indifferent to him, he would know the worst, and go + about his business like a man. Who were the Mavicks, anyway? + </p> + <p> + Alice had written him once that Evelyn was a dear girl, no one could help + loving her; but she did not like the blood of father and mother. “And + remember, Phil—you must let me say this—there is not a drop of + mean blood in your ancestors.” + </p> + <p> + Philip smiled at this. He was not in love with Mrs. Mavick nor with her + husband. They were for him simply guardians of a treasure he very much + coveted, and yet they were to a certain extent ennobled in his mind as the + authors of the being he worshiped. If it should be true that his love for + her was returned, it would not be possible even for them to insist upon a + course that would make their daughter unhappy for life. They might reject + him—no doubt he was a wholly unequal match for the heiress—but + could they, to the very end, be cruel to her? + </p> + <p> + Thus the ingenuous young man argued with himself, until it seemed plain to + him that if Evelyn loved him, and the conviction grew that she did, all + obstacles must give way to this overmastering passion of his life. If he + were living in a fool's paradise he would know it, and he ventured to put + his fortune to the test of experiment. The only manly course was to gain + the consent of the parents to ask their daughter to marry him; if not + that, then to be permitted to see her. He was nobly resolved to pledge + himself to make no proposals to her without their approval. + </p> + <p> + This seemed a very easy thing to do until he attempted it. He would simply + happen into Mr. Mavick's office, and, as Mr. Mavick frequently talked + familiarly with him, he would contrive to lead the conversation to Evelyn, + and make his confession. He mapped out the whole conversation, and even to + the manner in which he would represent his own prospects and ambitions and + his hopes of happiness. Of course Mr. Mavick would evade, and say that it + would be a long time before they should think of disposing of their + daughter's hand, and that—well, he must see himself that he was in + no position to support a wife accustomed to luxury; in short, that one + could not create situations in real life as he could in novels, that + personally he could give him no encouragement, but that he would consult + his wife. + </p> + <p> + This dream got no further than a private rehearsal. When he called at Mr. + Mavick's office he learned that Mr. Mavick had gone to the Pacific coast, + and that he would probably be absent several weeks. But Philip could not + wait. He resolved to end his torture by a bold stroke. He wrote to Mrs. + Mavick, saying that he had called at Mr. Mavick's office, and, not finding + him at home, he begged that she would give him an interview concerning a + matter of the deepest personal interest to himself. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mavick understood in an instant what this meant. She had feared it. + Her first impulse was to write him a curt note of a character that would + end at once all intercourse. On second thought she determined to see him, + to discover how far the affair had gone, and to have it out with him once + for all. She accordingly wrote that she would have a few minutes at half + past five the next day. + </p> + <p> + As Philip went up the steps of the Mavick house at the appointed hour, he + met coming out of the door—and it seemed a bad omen—Lord + Montague, who seemed in high spirits, stared at Philip without + recognition, whistled for his cab, and drove away. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mavick received him politely, and, without offering her hand, asked + him to be seated. Philip was horribly embarrassed. The woman was so cool, + so civil, so perfectly indifferent. He stammered out something about the + weather and the coming spring, and made an allusion to the dinner at Mrs. + Van Cortlandt's. Mrs. Mavick was not in the mood to help him with any + general conversation, and presently said, looking at her watch: + </p> + <p> + “You wrote me that you wanted to consult me. Is there anything I can do + for you?” + </p> + <p> + “It was a personal matter,” said Philip, getting control of himself. + </p> + <p> + “So you wrote. Mr. Mavick is away, and if it is in regard to anything in + your office, any promotion, you know, I don't understand anything about + business.” And Mrs. Mavick smiled graciously. + </p> + <p> + “No, it is not about the office. I should not think of troubling my + friends in that way. It is just that—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see,” Mrs. Mavick interrupted, with good-humor, “it's about the + novel. I hear that it has sold very well. And you are not certain whether + its success will warrant your giving up your clerkship. Now as for me,” + and she leaned back in her chair, with the air of weighing the chances in + her mind, “it doesn't seem to me that a writer—” + </p> + <p> + “No, it is not that,” said Philip, leaning forward and looking her full in + the face with all the courage he could summon, “it is your daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried Mrs. Mavick, in a tone of incredulous surprise. + </p> + <p> + “I was afraid you would think me very presumptuous.” + </p> + <p> + “Presumptuous! Why, she is a child. Do you know what you are talking + about?” + </p> + <p> + “My mother married at eighteen,” said Philip, gently. + </p> + <p> + “That is an interesting piece of information, but I don't see its bearing. + Will you tell me, Mr. Burnett, what nonsense you have got into your head?” + </p> + <p> + “I want,” and Philip spoke very gently—“I want, Mrs. Mavick, + permission to see your daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I thought in Rivervale, Mr. Burnett, that you were a gentleman. You + presume upon my invitation to this house, in an underhand way, to—What + right have you?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mavick was so beside herself that she could hardly speak. The lines + in her face deepened into wrinkles and scowls. There was something + malevolent and mean in it. Philip was astonished at the transformation. + And she looked old and ugly in her passion. + </p> + <p> + “You!” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “It is only this, Mrs. Mavick,” and Philip spoke calmly, though his blood + was boiling at her insulting manner—“it is only this—I love + your daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have told her this?” + </p> + <p> + “No, never, never a word.” + </p> + <p> + “Does she know anything of this absurd, this silly attempt?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid not.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Then you have spared yourself one humiliation. My daughter's + affections are not likely to be placed where her parents do not approve. + Her mother is her only confidante. I can tell you, Mr. Burnett, and when + you are over this delusion you will thank me for being so plain with you, + my daughter would laugh at the idea of such a proposal. But I will not + have her annoyed by impecunious aspirants.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam!” cried Philip, rising, with a flushed face, and then he remembered + that he was talking to Evelyn's mother, and uttered no other word. + </p> + <p> + “This is ended.” And then, with a slight change of manner, she went on: + “You must see how impossible it is. You are a man of honor. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to think well of you. I shall trust to your honor that you + will never try, by letter or otherwise, to hold any communication with + her.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall obey you,” said Philip, quite stiffly, “because you are her + mother. But I love her, and I shall always love her.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mavick did not condescend to any reply to this, but she made a cold + bow of dismissal and turned away from him. He left the house and walked + away, scarcely knowing in which direction he went, anger for a time being + uppermost in his mind, chagrin and defeat following, and with it the + confused feeling of a man who has passed through a cyclone and been landed + somewhere amid the scattered remnants of his possessions. + </p> + <p> + As he strode away he was intensely humiliated. He had been treated like an + inferior. He had voluntarily put himself in a position to be insulted. + Contempt had been poured upon him, his feelings had been outraged, and + there was no way in which he could show his resentment. Presently, as his + anger subsided, he began to look at the matter more sanely. What had + happened? He had made an honorable proposal. But what right had he to + expect that it would be favorably considered? He knew all along that it + was most unlikely that Mrs. Mavick would entertain for a moment idea of + such a match. He knew what would be the unanimous opinion of society about + it. In the case of any other young man aspiring to the hand of a rich + girl, he knew very well what he should have thought. + </p> + <p> + Well, he had done nothing dishonorable. And as he reviewed the bitter + interview he began to console himself with the thought that he had not + lost his temper, that he had said nothing to be regretted, nothing that he + should not have said to the mother of the girl he loved. There was an + inner comfort in this, even if his life were ruined. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mavick, on the contrary, had not so good reason to be satisfied with + herself. It was a principle of her well-ordered life never to get into a + passion, never to let herself go, never to reveal herself by intemperate + speech, never to any one, except occasionally to her husband when his cold + sarcasm became intolerable. She felt, as soon as the door closed on + Philip, that she had made a blunder, and yet in her irritation she + committed a worse one. She went at once to Evelyn's room, resolved to make + it perfectly sure that the Philip episode was ended. She had had + suspicions about her daughter ever since the Van Cortlandt dinner. She + would find out if they were justified, and she would act decidedly before + any further mischief was done. Evelyn was alone, and her mother kissed her + fondly several times and then threw herself into an easy-chair and + declared she was tired. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, I have had such an unpleasant interview.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” said Evelyn, seating herself on the arm of the chair and + putting her arm round her mother's neck. “With whom, mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, with that Mr. Burnett.” Mrs. Mavick felt a nervous start in the arm + that caressed her. + </p> + <p> + “Here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he came to see your father, I fancy, about some business. I think he + is not getting on very well.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, his book—” + </p> + <p> + “I know, but that amounts to nothing. There is not much chance for a + lawyer's clerk who gets bitten with the idea that he can write.” + </p> + <p> + “If he was in trouble, mamma,” said Evelyn, softly, “then you were good to + him.” + </p> + <p> + “I tried to be,” Mrs. Mavick half sighed, “but you can't do anything with + such people” (by 'such people' Mrs. Mavick meant those who have no money) + “when they don't get on. They are never reasonable. And he was in such an + awful bad temper. You cannot show any kindness to such people without + exposing yourself. I think he presumes upon his acquaintance with your + father. It was most disagreeable, and he was so rude” (a little thrill in + the arm again)—“well, not exactly rude, but he was not a bit nice to + me, and I am afraid I showed by my looks that I was irritated. He was just + as disagreeable as he could be. + </p> + <p> + “He met Lord Montague on the steps, and he had something spiteful to say + about him. I had to tell him he was presuming a good deal on his + acquaintance, and that I considered his manner insulting. He flung out of + the house very high and mighty.” + </p> + <p> + “That was not a bit like him, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “We didn't know him. That is all. Now we do, and I am thankful we do. He + will never come here again.” + </p> + <p> + Evelyn was very still for a moment, and then she said: “I'm very sorry for + it all. It must be some misunderstanding.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, it is dreadful to be so disappointed in people. But we have to + learn. I don't know anything about his misunderstanding, but I did not + misunderstand what he said. At any rate, after such an exposition we can + have no further intercourse with him. You will not care to see any one who + treated your mother in this way? If you love me, you cannot be friendly + with him. I know you would not like to be.” + </p> + <p> + Evelyn did not reply for a moment. Her silence revealed the fact to the + shrewd woman that she had not intervened a day too soon. + </p> + <p> + “You promise me, dear, that you will put the whole thing out of your + mind?” and she drew her daughter closer to her and kissed her. + </p> + <p> + And then Evelyn said slowly: “I shall not have any friends whom you do not + approve, but, mamma, I cannot be unjust in my mind.” + </p> + <p> + And Mrs. Mavick had the good sense not to press the question further. She + still regarded Evelyn as a child. Her naivete, her simplicity, her + ignorance of social conventions and of the worldly wisdom which to Mrs. + Mavick was the sum of all knowledge misled her mother as to her power of + discernment and her strength of character. Indeed, Mrs. Mavick had only + the slightest conception of that range of thought and feeling in which the + girl habitually lived, and of the training which at the age of eighteen + had given her discipline, and great maturity of judgment as well. She + would be obedient, but she was incapable of duplicity, and therefore she + had said as plainly as possible that whatever the trouble might be she + would not be unjust to Philip. + </p> + <p> + The interview with her mother left her in a very distressed state of mind. + It is a horrible disillusion when a girl begins to suspect that her mother + is not sincere, and that her ideals of life are mean. This knowledge may + exist with the deepest affection—indeed, in a noble mind, with an + inward tenderness and an almost divine pity. How many times have we seen a + daughter loyal to a frivolous, worldly-minded, insincere mother, shielding + her and exhibiting to the censorious world the utmost love and trust! + </p> + <p> + Evelyn was far from suspecting the extent of her mother's duplicity, but + her heart told her that an attempt had been made to mislead her, and that + there must be some explanation of Philip's conduct that would be + consistent with her knowledge of his character. And, as she endeavored to + pierce this mystery, it dawned upon her that there had been a method in + throwing her so much into the society of Lord Montague, and that it was + unnatural that such a friend as Philip should be seen so seldom—only + twice since the days in Rivervale. Naturally the very reverse of + suspicious, she had been dreaming on things to come in the seclusion of + her awakening womanhood, without the least notion that the freedom of her + own soul was to be interfered with by any merely worldly demands. But now + things that had occurred, and that her mother had said, came back to her + with a new meaning, and her trustful spirit was overwhelmed. And there, in + the silence of her chamber, began the fierce struggle between desire and + what she called her duty—a duty imposed from without. + </p> + <p> + She began to perceive that she was not free, that she was a part of a + social machine, the power of which she had not at all apprehended, and + that she was powerless in its clutch. She might resist, but peace was + gone. She had heretofore found peace in obedience, but when she consulted + her own heart she knew that she could not find peace in obedience now. To + a girl differently reared, perhaps, subterfuge, or some manoeuvring + justified by the situation, might have been resorted to. But such a thing + never occurred to Evelyn. Everything looked dark before her, as she more + clearly understood her mother's attitude, and for the first time in years + she could do nothing but give way to emotions. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Evelyn, you have been crying!” exclaimed the governess, who came to + seek her. “What is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Evelyn arose and threw herself on her friend's neck for a moment, and + then, brushing away the tears, said, with an attempt to smile, “Oh, + nothing; I got thinking, thinking, thinking, and Don't you ever get blue, + McDonald?” + </p> + <p> + “Not often,” said the Scotchwoman, gravely. “But, dear, you have nothing + in the world to make you so.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, nothing;” and then she broke down again, and threw herself upon + McDonald's bosom in a passion of sobbing. “I can't help it. Mamma says + Phil—Mr. Burnett—is never to come to this house again. What + have I done? And he will think—he will think that I hate him.” + </p> + <p> + McDonald drew the girl into her lap, and with uncommon gentleness + comforted her with caresses. + </p> + <p> + “Dear child,” she said, “crosses must come into our lives; we cannot help + that. Your mother is no doubt doing what she thinks best for your own + happiness. Nothing can really hurt us for long, you know that well, except + what we do to ourselves. I never told you why I came to this country—I + didn't want to sadden you with my troubles—but now I want you to + understand me better. It is a long story.” + </p> + <p> + But it was not very long in the telling, for the narrator found that what + seemed to her so long in the suffering could be conveyed to another in + only a few words. And the story was not in any of its features new, except + to the auditor. There had been a long attachment, passionate love and + perfect trust, long engagement, marriage postponed because both were poor, + and the lover struggling into his profession, and then, it seemed sudden + and unaccountable, his marriage with some one else. “It was not like him,” + said the governess in conclusion; “it was his ambition to get on that + blinded him.” + </p> + <p> + “And he, was he happy?” asked Evelyn. + </p> + <p> + “I heard that he was not” (and she spoke reluctantly); “I fear not. How + could he be?” And the governess seemed overwhelmed in a flood of tender + and painful memories. “That was over twenty years ago. And I have been + happy, my darling, I have had such a happy life with you. + </p> + <p> + “I never dreamed I could have such a blessing. And you, child, will be + happy too; I know it.” + </p> + <p> + And the two women, locked in each other's arms, found that consolation in + sympathy which steals away half the grief of the world. Ah! who knows a + woman's heart? + </p> + <p> + For Philip there was in these days no such consolation. It was a man's way + not to seek any, to roll himself up in his trouble like a hibernating + bear. And yet there were times when he had an intolerable longing for a + confidant, for some one to whom he could relieve himself of part of his + burden by talking. To Celia he could say nothing. Instinct told him that + he should not go to her. Of the sympathy of Alice he was sure, but why + inflict his selfish grief on her tender heart? But he was writing to her + often, he was talking to her freely about his perplexities, about leaving + the office and trusting himself to the pursuit of literature in some way. + And, in answer to direct questions, he told her that he had seen Evelyn + only a few times, and, the fact was, that Mrs. Mavick had cut him dead. He + could not give to his correspondent a very humorous turn to this + situation, for Alice knew—had she not seen them often together, and + did she not know the depths of Philip's passion? And she read between the + lines the real state of the case. Alice was indignant, but she did not + think it wise to make too much of the incident. Of Evelyn she wrote + affectionately—she knew she was a noble and high-minded girl. As to + her mother, she dismissed her with a country estimate. “You know, Phil, + that I never thought she was a lady.” + </p> + <p> + But the lover was not to be wholly without comfort. He met by chance one + day on the Avenue Miss McDonald, and her greeting was so cordial that he + knew that he had at least one friend in the house of Mavick. + </p> + <p> + It was a warm spring day, a stray day sent in advance, as it were, to warn + the nomads of the city that it was time to move on. The tramps in + Washington Square felt the genial impulse, and, seeking the shaded + benches, began to dream of the open country, the hospitable farmhouses, + the nooning by wayside springs, and the charm of wandering at will among a + tolerant and not too watchful people. Having the same abundant leisure, + the dwellers up-town—also nomads—were casting in their minds + how best to employ it, and the fortunate ones were already gathering + together their flocks and herds and preparing to move on to their camps at + Newport or among the feeding-hills of the New-England coast. + </p> + <p> + The foliage of Central Park, already heavy, still preserved the freshness + of its new birth, and invited the stroller on the Avenue to its protecting + shade. At Miss McDonald's suggestion they turned in and found a secluded + seat. + </p> + <p> + “I often come here,” she said to Philip; “it is almost as peaceful as the + wilderness itself.” + </p> + <p> + To Philip also it seemed peaceful, but the soothing influence he found in + it was that he was sitting with the woman who saw Evelyn hourly, who had + been with her only an hour ago. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, in reply to a question, “everybody is well. We are going + to leave town earlier than usual this summer, as soon as Mr. Mavick + returns. Mrs. Mavick is going to open her Newport house; she says she has + had enough of the country. It is still very amusing to me to see how you + Americans move about with the seasons, just like the barbarians of + Turkestan, half the year in summer camps and half the year in winter + camps.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” said Philip, “it is because the social pasturage gets poor.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe,” replied the governess, continuing the conceit, “only the horde + keeps pretty well together, wherever it is. I know we are to have a very + gay season. Lots of distinguished foreigners and all that.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Philip, “don't England and the Continent long for the presence + of Americans in the season in the same way?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly. It is the shop-keepers and hotels that sigh for the + Americans. I don't think that American shop-keepers expect much of + foreigners.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are going soon? I suppose Miss Mavick is eager to go also,” said + Philip, trying to speak indifferently. + </p> + <p> + Miss McDonald turned towards him with a look of perfect understanding, and + then replied, “No, not eager; she hasn't been in her usual spirits lately—no, + not ill—and probably the change will be good for her. It is her + first season, you know, and that is always exciting to a girl. Perhaps it + is only the spring weather.” + </p> + <p> + It was some moments before either of them spoke again, and then Miss + McDonald looked up—“Oh, Mr. Burnett, I have wanted to see you and + have a talk with you about your novel. I could say so little in my note. + We read it first together and then I read it alone, rather to sit in + judgment on it, you know. I liked it better the second time, but I could + see the faults of construction, and I could see, too, why it will be more + popular with a few people than with the general public. You don't mind my + saying—” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, the words of a friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know, are sometimes hardest to bear. Well, it is lovely, ideal, + but it seems to me you are still a little too afraid of human nature. You + are afraid to say things that are common. And the deep things of life are + pretty much all common. No, don't interrupt me. I love the story just as + it is. I am glad you wrote it as you did. It was natural, in your state of + experience, that you should do it. But in your next, having got rid of + what was on top of your mind, so to speak, you will take a firmer, more + confident hold of life. You are not offended?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed,” cried Philip. “I am very grateful. No doubt you are right. + It seems to me, now that I am detached from it, as if it were only a sort + of prelude to something else.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you must not let my single opinion influence you too much, for I + must in honesty tell you another thing. Evelyn will not have a word of + criticism of it. She says it is like a piece of music, and the impudent + thing declares that she does not expect a Scotchwoman to understand + anything but ballad music.” + </p> + <p> + Philip laughed at this, such a laugh as he had not indulged in for many + days. “I hope you don't quarrel about such a little thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Not seriously. She says I may pick away at the story—and I like to + see her bristle up—but that she looks at the spirit.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless her,” said Philip under his breath. + </p> + <p> + Miss McDonald rose, and they walked out into the Avenue again. How + delightful was the genial air, the light, the blue sky of spring! How the + brilliant Avenue, now filling up with afternoon equipages, sparkled in the + sunshine! + </p> + <p> + When they parted, Miss McDonald gave him her hand and held his a moment, + looking into his eyes. “Mr. Burnett, authors need some encouragement. When + I left Evelyn she was going to her room with your book in her hand.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX + </h2> + <p> + Why should not Philip trust the future? He was a free man. He had given no + hostages to fortune. Even if he did not succeed, no one else would be + involved in his failure. Why not follow his inclination, the dream of his + boyhood? + </p> + <p> + He was at liberty to choose for himself. Everybody in America is; this is + the proclamation of its blessed independence. Are we any better off for + the privilege of following first one inclination and then another, which + is called making a choice? Are they not as well off, and on the whole as + likely to find their right place, who inherit their callings in life, + whose careers are mapped out from the cradle by circumstance and + convention? How much time do we waste in futile experiment? Freedom to try + everything, which is before the young man, is commonly freedom to excel in + nothing. + </p> + <p> + There are, of course, exceptions. The blacksmith climbs into a city + pulpit. The popular preacher becomes an excellent insurance agent. The + saloon-keeper develops into the legislator, and wears the broadcloth and + high hat of the politician. The brakeman becomes the railway magnate, and + the college graduate a grocer's clerk, and the messenger-boy, picking up + by chance one day the pen, and finding it run easier than his legs, + becomes a power on a city journal, and advises society how to conduct + itself and the government how to make war and peace. All this adds to the + excitement and interest of life. On the whole, we say that people get + shaken into their right places, and the predetermined vocation is often a + mistake. There is the anecdote of a well-known clergyman who, being in a + company with his father, an aged and distinguished doctor of divinity, + raised his monitory finger and exclaimed, “Ah, you spoiled a first-rate + carpenter when you made a poor minister of me.” + </p> + <p> + Philip thought he was calmly arguing the matter with himself. How often do + we deliberately weigh such a choice as we would that of another person, + testing our inclination by solid reason? Perhaps no one could have told + Philip what he ought to do, but every one who knew him, and the + circumstances, knew what he would do. He was, in fact, already doing it + while he was paltering with his ostensible profession. But he never would + have confessed, probably he would then have been ashamed to confess, how + much his decision to break with the pretense of law was influenced by the + thought of what a certain dark little maiden, whose image was always in + his mind, would wish him to do, and by the very remarkable fact that she + was seen going to her room with his well-read story in her hand. Perhaps + it was under her pillow at night! + </p> + <p> + Good-luck seemed to follow his decision—as it often does when a man + makes a questionable choice, as if the devil had taken an interest in his + downward road to prosperity. But Philip really gained a permanent + advantage. The novel had given him a limited reputation and very little + money. Yet it was his stepping-stone, and when he applied to his + publishers and told them of his decision, they gave him some work as a + reader for the house. At first this was fitful and intermittent, but as he + showed both literary discrimination and tact in judging of the market, his + services were more in request, and slowly he acquired confidential + relations with the house. Whatever he knew, his knowledge of languages and + his experience abroad, came into play, and he began to have more + confidence in himself, as he saw that his somewhat desultory education + had, after all, a market value. + </p> + <p> + The rather long period of his struggle, which is a common struggle, and + often disheartening, need not be dwelt on here. We can anticipate by + saying that he obtained in the house a permanent and responsible + situation, with an income sufficient for a bachelor without habits of + self-indulgence. It was not the crowning of a noble ambition, it was not + in the least the career he had dreamed of, but it gave him support and a + recognized position, and, above all, did not divert him from such creative + work as he was competent to do. Nay, he found very soon that the feeling + of security, without any sordid worry, gave freedom to his imagination. + There was something stimulating in the atmosphere of books and manuscripts + and in that world of letters which seems so large to those who live in it. + Fortunately, also, having a support, he was not tempted to debase his + talent by sensational ventures. What he wrote for this or that magazine he + wrote to please himself, and, although he saw no fortune that way, the + little he received was an encouragement as well as an appreciable addition + to his income. + </p> + <p> + There are two sorts of success in letters as in life generally. The one is + achieved suddenly, by a dash, and it lasts as long as the author can keep + the attention of the spectators upon his scintillating novelties. When the + sparks fade there is darkness. How many such glittering spectacles this + century has witnessed! + </p> + <p> + There is another sort of success which does not startlingly or at once + declare itself. Sometimes it comes with little observation. The reputation + is slowly built up, as by a patient process of nature. It is curious, as + Philip wrote once in an essay, to see this unfolding in Lowell's life. + There was no one moment when he launched into great popularity—nay, + in detail, he seemed to himself not to have made the strike that ambition + is always expecting. But lo! the time came when, by universal public + consent, which was in the nature of a surprise to him, he had a high and + permanent place in the world of letters. + </p> + <p> + In anticipating Philip's career, however, it must not be understood that + he had attained any wide public recognition. He was simply enrolled in the + great army of readers and was serving his apprenticeship. He was + recognized as a capable man by those who purvey in letters to the + entertainment of the world. Even this little foothold was not easily + gained in a day, as the historian discovered in reading some bundles of + old letters which Philip wrote in this time of his novitiate to Celia and + to his cousin Alice. + </p> + <p> + It was against Celia's most strenuous advice that he had trusted himself + to a literary career. “I see, my dear friend,” she wrote, in reply to his + announcement that he was going that day to Mr. Hunt to resign his + position, “that you are not happy, but whatever your disappointment or + disillusion, you will not better yourself by surrendering a regular + occupation. You live too much in the imagination already.” + </p> + <p> + Philip fancied, with that fatuity common to his sex, that he had worn an + impenetrable mask in regard to his wild passion for Evelyn, and did not + dream that, all along, Celia had read him like an open book. She judged + Philip quite accurately. It was herself that she did not know, and she + would have repelled as nonsense the suggestion that her own restlessness + and her own changing experiments in occupation were due to the unsatisfied + longings of a woman's heart. + </p> + <p> + “You must not think,” the letter went on, “that I want to dictate, but I + have noticed that men—it may be different with women—only + succeed by taking one path and diligently walking in it. And literature is + not a career, it is just a toss up, a lottery, and woe to you if you once + draw a lucky number—you will always be expecting another... You say + that I am a pretty one to give advice, for I am always chopping and + changing myself. Well, from the time you were a little boy, did I ever + give you but one sort of advice? I have been constant in that. And as to + myself, you are unjust. I have always had one distinct object in life, and + that I have pursued. I wanted to find out about life, to have experience, + and then do what I could do best, and what needed most to be done. Why did + I not stick to teaching in that woman's college? Well, I began to have + doubts, I began to experiment on my pupils. You will laugh, but I will + give you a specimen. One day I put a question to my literature class, and + I found out that not one of them knew how to boil potatoes. They were all + getting an education, and hardly one of them knew how much the happiness + of a home depends upon having the potatoes mealy and not soggy. It was so + in everything. How are we going to live when we are all educated, without + knowing how to live? Then I found that the masses here in New York did not + know any better than the classes how to live. Don't think it is just a + matter of cooking. It is knowing how, generally, to make the most of + yourself and of your opportunities, and have a nice world to live in, a + thrifty, self-helpful, disciplined world. Is education giving us this? And + then we think that organization will do it, organization instead of + self-development. We think we can organize life, as they are trying to + organize art. They have organized art as they have the production of + cotton. + </p> + <p> + “Did I tell you I was in that? No? I used to draw in school, and after I + had worked in the Settlement here in New York, and while I was working + down on the East Side, it came over me that maybe I had one talent wrapped + in a napkin; and I have been taking lessons in Fifty-seventh Street with + the thousand or two young women who do not know how to boil potatoes, but + are pursuing the higher life of art. I did not tell you this because I + knew you would say that I am just as inconsistent as you are. But I am + not. I have demonstrated the fact that neither I nor one in a hundred of + those charming devotees to art could ever earn a living by art, or do + anything except to add to the mediocrity of the amazing art product of + this free country. + </p> + <p> + “And you will ask, what now? I am going on in the same way. I am going to + be a doctor. In college I was very well up in physiology and anatomy, and + I went quite a way in biology. So you see I have a good start. I am going + to attend lectures and go into a hospital, as soon as there is an opening, + and then I mean to practice. One essential for a young doctor I have in + advance. That is patients. I can get all I want on the East Side, and I + have already studied many of them. Law and medicine are what I call real + professions.” + </p> + <p> + However Celia might undervalue the calling that Philip had now entered on, + he had about this time evidence of the growing appreciation of literature + by practical business men. He was surprised one day by a brief note from + Murad Ault, asking him to call at his office as soon as convenient. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ault received him in his private office at exactly the hour named. + Evidently Mr. Ault's affairs were prospering. His establishment presented + every appearance of a high-pressure business perfectly organized. The + outer rooms were full of industrious clerks, messengers were constantly + entering and departing in a feverish rapidity, servants moved silently + about, conducting visitors to this or that waiting-room and answering + questions, excited speculators in groups were gesticulating and + vociferating, and in the anteroom were impatient clients awaiting their + turn. In the inner chamber, however, was perfect calm. There at his table + sat the dark, impenetrable operator, whose time was exactly apportioned, + serene, saturnine, or genial, as the case might be, listening attentively, + speaking deliberately, despatching the affair in hand without haste or the + waste of a moment. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ault arose and shook hands cordially, and then went on, without delay + for any conventional talk. + </p> + <p> + “I sent for you, Mr. Burnett, because I wanted your help, and because I + thought I might do you a good turn. You see” (with a grim smile) “I have + not forgotten Rivervale days. My wife has been reading your story. I don't + have much time for such things myself, but her constant talk about it has + given me an idea. I want to suggest to you the scene of a novel, one that + would be bound to be a good seller. + </p> + <p> + “I could guarantee a big circulation. I have just become interested in one + of the great transcontinental lines.” He named the most picturesque of + them—one that he, in fact, absolutely controlled. “Well, I want a + story, yes, I guess a good love-story—a romance of reality you might + call it—strung on that line. You take the idea?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said Philip, half amused at the conceit and yet complimented by the + recognition of his talent, “I don't know anything about railroads—how + they are run, cost of building, prospect of traffic, engineering + difficulties, all that—nothing whatever.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better. It is a literary work I want, not a brag about the + road or a description of its enterprise. You just take the line as your + scene. Let the story run on that. The company, don't you see, must not in + any way be suspected with having anything to do with it, no mention of its + name as a company, no advertisement of the road on a fly-leaf or cover. + Just your own story, pure and simple.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Philip, more and more astonished at this unlooked-for + expansion of the literary field, “I could not embark on an enterprise of + such magnitude.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Mr. Ault, complacently, “that will be all arranged. Just a + pleasure trip, as far as that goes. You will have a private car, well + stocked, a photographer will go along, and I think—don't you? a + water-color artist. You can take your own time, stop when and where you + choose—at the more stations the better. It ought to be profusely + illustrated with scenes on the line—yes, have colored plates, all + that would give life and character to your story. Love on a Special, some + such title as that. It would run like oil. I will arrange to have it as a + serial in one of the big magazines, and then the book would be bound to + go. The company, of course, can have nothing to do with it, but I can tell + you privately that it would rather distribute a hundred thousand copies of + a book of good literature through the country than to encourage the + railway truck that is going now. + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't wonder, Mr. Burnett, if the public would be interested in + having the Puritan Nun take that kind of a trip.” And Mr. Ault ended his + explanation with an interrogatory smile. + </p> + <p> + Philip hesitated a moment, trying to grasp the conception of this business + use of literature. Mr. Ault resumed: + </p> + <p> + “It isn't anything in the nature of an advertisement. Literature is a + power. Why, do you know—of course you did not intend it—your + story has encouraged the Peacock Inn to double its accommodations, and + half the farmhouses in Rivervale are expecting summer boarders. The + landlord of the Peacock came to see me the other day, and he says + everything is stirred up there, and he has already to enlarge or refuse + application.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very kind in you, Mr. Ault, to think of me in that connection, but + I fear you have over-estimated my capacity. I could name half a dozen men + who could do it much better than I could. They know how to do it, they + have that kind of touch. I have been surprised at the literary ability + engaged by the great corporations.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ault made a gesture of impatience. “I wouldn't give a damn for that + sort of thing. It is money thrown away. If I should get one of the popular + writers you refer to, the public would know he was hired. If you lay your + story out there, nobody will suspect anything of the sort. It will be a + clean literary novel. Not travel, you understand, but a story, and the + more love in it the better. It will be a novelty. You can run your car + sixty miles an hour in exciting passages, everything will work into it. + When people travel on the road the pictures will show them the scenes of + the story. It is a big thing,” said Mr. Ault in conclusion. + </p> + <p> + “I see it is,” said Philip, rising at the hint that his time had expired. + “I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Ault, for your confidence in me. But + it is a new idea. I will have to think it over.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, think it over. There is money in it. You would not start till about + midsummer. Good-day.” + </p> + <p> + A private car! Travel like a prince! Certainly literature was looking up + in the commercial world. Philip walked back to his publishers with a + certain elasticity of step, a new sense of power. Yes, the power of the + pen. And why not? No doubt it would bring him money and spread his name + very widely. There was nothing that a friendly corporation could not do + for a favorite. He would then really be a part of the great, active, + enterprising world. Was there anything illegitimate in taking advantage of + such an opportunity? Surely, he should remain his own master, and write + nothing except what his own conscience approved. But would he not feel, + even if no one else knew it, that he was the poet-laureate of a + corporation? + </p> + <p> + And suddenly, as he thought how the clear vision of Evelyn would plunge to + the bottom of such a temptation, he felt humiliated that such a + proposition should have been made to him. Was there nothing, nobody, that + commercialism did not think for sale and to be trafficked in? + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, he wrote to Alice about it, describing the proposal as it + was made to him, without making any comment on it. + </p> + <p> + Alice replied speedily. “Isn't it funny,” she wrote, “and isn't it + preposterous? I wonder what such people think? And that horrid young + pirate, Ault, a patron of literature! My dear, I cannot conceive of you as + the Pirate's Own. Dear Phil, I want you to succeed. I do want you to make + money, a lot of it. I like to think you are wanted and appreciated, and + that you can get paid better and better for what you do. Sell your + manuscripts for as good a price as you can get. Yes, dear, sell your + manuscripts, but don't sell your soul.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX + </h2> + <p> + Did Miss McDonald tell Evelyn of her meeting with Philip in Central Park? + The Scotch loyalty to her service would throw a doubt upon this. At the + same time, the Scotch affection, the Scotch sympathy with a true and + romantic passion, and, above all, the Scotch shrewdness, could be trusted + to do what was best under the circumstances. That she gave the least hint + of what she said to Mr. Burnett concerning Evelyn is not to be supposed + for a moment. Certainly she did not tell Mrs. Mavick. Was she a person to + run about with idle gossip? But it is certain that Evelyn knew that Philip + had given up his situation in the office, that he had become a reader for + a publishing house, that he had definitely decided to take up a literary + career. And somehow it came into her mind that Philip knew that this + decision would be pleasing to her. + </p> + <p> + According to the analogy of other things in nature, it would seem that + love must have something to feed on to sustain it. But it is remarkable + upon how little it can exist, can even thrive and become strong, and + develop a power of resistance to hostile influences. Once it gets a + lodgment in a woman's heart, it is an exclusive force that transforms her + into a heroine of courage and endurance. No arguments, no reason, no + considerations of family, of position, of worldly fortune, no prospect of + immortal life, nothing but doubt of faith in the object can dislodge it. + The woman may yield to overwhelming circumstances, she may even by her own + consent be false to herself, but the love lives, however hidden and + smothered, so long as the vital force is capable of responding to a true + emotion. Perhaps nothing in human life is so pathetic as this survival in + old age of a youthful, unsatisfied love. It may cease to be a passion, it + may cease to be a misery, it may have become only a placid sentiment, yet + the heart must be quite cold before this sentiment can cease to stir it on + occasion—for the faded flower is still in the memory the bloom of + young love. + </p> + <p> + They say that in the New Education for women love is not taken into + account in the regular course; it is an elective study. But the immortal + principle of life does not care much for organization, and says, as of + old, they reckon ill who leave me out. + </p> + <p> + In the early season at Newport there was little to distract the attention + and much to calm the spirit. Mrs. Mavick was busy in her preparation for + the coming campaign, and Evelyn and her governess were left much alone, to + drive along the softly lapping sea, to search among the dells of the rocky + promontory for wild flowers, or to sit on the cliffs in front of the + gardens of bloom and watch the idle play of the waves, that chased each + other to the foaming beach and in good-nature tossed about the cat-boats + and schooners and set the white sails shimmering and dipping in the + changing lights. And Evelyn, drinking in the beauty and the peace of it, + no doubt, was more pensive than joyous. Within the last few months life + had opened to her with a suddenness that half frightened her. + </p> + <p> + It was a woman who sat on the cliffs now, watching the ocean of life, no + longer a girl into whose fresh soul the sea and the waves and the air, and + the whole beauty of the world, were simply responsive to her own gayety + and enjoyment of living. It was not the charming scene that held her + thought, but the city with its human struggle, and in that struggle one + figure was conspicuous. In such moments this one figure of youth + outweighed for her all that the world held besides. It was strange. Would + she have admitted this? Not in the least, not even to herself, in her + virgin musings; nevertheless, the world was changed for her, it was more + serious, more doubtful, richer, and more to be feared. + </p> + <p> + It was not too much to say that one season had much transformed her. She + had been so ignorant of the world a year ago. She had taken for granted + all that was abstractly right. Now she saw that the conventions of life + were like sand-dunes and barriers in the path she was expected to walk. + She had learned for one thing what money was. Wealth had been such an + accepted part of her life, since she could remember, that she had attached + no importance to it, and had only just come to see what distinctions it + made, and how it built a barrier round about her. She had come to know + what it was that gave her father position and distinction; and the + knowledge had been forced upon her by all the obsequious flattery of + society that she was, as a great heiress, something apart from others. + This position, so much envied, may be to a sensitive soul an awful + isolation. + </p> + <p> + It was only recently that Evelyn had begun to be keenly aware of the + circumstances that hedged her in. They were speaking one day as they sat + upon the cliffs of the season about to begin. In it Evelyn had always had + unalloyed, childish delight. Now it seemed to her something to be borne. + </p> + <p> + “McDonald,” the girl said, abruptly, but evidently continuing her line of + thought, “mamma says that Lord Montague is coming next week.” + </p> + <p> + “To be with us?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. He is to stay with the Danforth-Sibbs. Mamma says that as he is a + stranger here we must be very polite to him, and that his being here will + give distinction to the season. Do you like him?” There was in Evelyn + still, with the penetration of the woman, the naivete of the child. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot say that he is personally very fascinating, but then I have + never talked with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma says he is very interesting about his family, and their place in + England, and about his travels. He has been in the South Sea Islands. I + asked him about them. He said that the natives were awfully jolly, and + that the climate was jolly hot. Do you know, McDonald, that you can't get + anything out of him but exclamations and slang. I suppose he talks to + other people differently. I tried him. At the reception I asked him who + was going to take Tennyson's place. He looked blank, and then said, 'Er—I + must have missed that. What place? Is he out?'” + </p> + <p> + Miss McDonald laughed, and then said, “You don't understand the classes in + English life. Poetry is not in his line. You see, dear, you couldn't talk + to him about politics. He is a born legislator, and when he is in the + House of Lords he will know right well who is in and who is out. You + mustn't be unjust because he seems odd to you and of limited intelligence. + Just that sort of youth is liable to turn up some day in India or + somewhere and do a mighty plucky thing, and become a hero. I dare say he + is a great sportsman.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he quite warmed up about shooting. He told me about going for yak in + the snow mountains south of Thibet. Bloody cold it was. Nasty beast, if + you didn't bring him down first shot. No, I don't doubt his courage nor + his impudence. He looks at me so, that I can't help blushing. I wish mamma + wouldn't ask him.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear, we must live in the world as it is. You are not responsible + for Lord Montague.” + </p> + <p> + “And I know he will come,” the girl persisted in her line of thought. + </p> + <p> + “When he called the day before we came away, he asked a lot of questions + about Newport, about horses and polo and golf, and all that, and were the + roads good. And then, 'Do you bike, Miss Mavick?' + </p> + <p> + “I pretended not to understand, and said I was still studying with my + governess and I hadn't got all the irregular verbs yet. For once, he + looked quite blank, and after a minute he said, 'That's very good, you + know!' McDonald, I just hate him. He makes me so uneasy.” + </p> + <p> + “But don't you know, child,” said Miss McDonald, laughing, “that we are + required to love our enemies?” + </p> + <p> + “So I would,” replied the girl, quickly, “if he were an enemy and would + keep away. Ah, me! McDonald, I want to ask you something. Do you suppose + he would hang around a girl who was poor, such a sweet, pretty, dear + creature as Alice Maitland, who is a hundred times nicer than I am?” + </p> + <p> + “He might,” said Miss McDonald, still quizzically. “They say that like + goes to like, and it is reported that the Duke of Tewkesbury is as good as + ruined.” + </p> + <p> + “Do be serious, McDonald.” The girl nestled up closer to her and took her + hand. “I want to ask you one question more. Do you think—no, don't + look at me, look away off at that sail do you-think that, if I had been + poor, Mr. Burnett would have seen me only twice, just twice, all last + season?” + </p> + <p> + Miss McDonald put her arm around Evelyn and clasped the little figure + tight. “You must not give way to fancies. We cannot, as life is arranged, + be perfectly happy, but we can be true to ourselves, and there is scarcely + anything that resolution and patience cannot overcome. I ought not to talk + to you about this, Evelyn. But I must say one thing: I think I can read + Philip Burnett. Oh, he has plenty of self-esteem, but, unless I mistake + him, nothing could so mortify him as to have it said that he was pursuing + a girl for the sake of her fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “And he wouldn't!” cried the girl, looking up and speaking in an unsteady + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Let me finish. He is, so I think, the sort of man that would not let any + fortune, or anything else, stand in the way when his heart was concerned. + I somehow feel that he could not change—faithfulness, that is his + notion. If he only knew—” + </p> + <p> + “He never shall! he never shall!” cried the girl in alarm—“never!” + </p> + <p> + “And you think, child, that he doesn't know? Come! That sail has been + coming straight towards us ever since we sat here, never tacked once. That + is omen enough for one day. See how the light strikes it. Come!” + </p> + <p> + The Newport season was not, after all, very gay. Society has become so + complex that it takes more than one Englishman to make a season. Were it + the business of the chronicler to study the evolution of this lovely + watering-place from its simple, unconventional, animated days of natural + hospitality and enjoyment, to its present splendid and palatial isolation + of a society—during the season—which finds its chief + satisfaction in the rivalry of costly luxury and in an atmosphere of what + is deemed aristocratic exclusiveness, he would have a theme attractive to + the sociologist. But such a noble study is not for him. His is the humble + task of following the fortunes of certain individuals, more or less + conspicuous in this astonishing flowering of a democratic society, who + have become dear to him by long acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + It was not the fault of Mrs. Mavick that the season was so frigid, its + glacial stateliness only now and then breaking out in an illuminating + burst of festivity, like the lighting-up of a Montreal ice-palace. Her + spacious house was always open, and her efforts, in charity enterprises + and novel entertainments, were untiring to stimulate a circulation in the + languid body of society. + </p> + <p> + This clever woman never showed more courage or more tact than in this + campaign, and was never more agreeable and fascinating. She was even + popular. If she was not accepted as a leader, she had a certain standing + with the leaders, as a person of vivacity and social influence. Any + company was eager for her presence. Her activity, spirit, and affability + quite won the regard of the society reporters, and those who know Newport + only through the newspapers would have concluded that the Mavicks were on + the top of the wave. She, however, perfectly understood her position, and + knew that the sweet friends, who exchanged with her, whenever they met, + the conventional phrases of affection commented sarcastically upon her + ambitions for her daughter. It was, at the same time, an ambition that + they perfectly understood, and did not condemn on any ethical grounds. + Evelyn was certainly a sweet girl, rather queerly educated, and never + likely to make much of a dash, but she was an heiress, and why should not + her money be put to the patriotic use of increasing the growing + Anglo-American cordiality? + </p> + <p> + Lord Montague was, of course, a favorite, in demand for all functions, and + in request for the private and intimate entertainments. He was an + authority in the stables and the kennels, and an eager comrade in all the + sports of the island. His easy manner, his self-possession everywhere, + even his slangy talk, were accepted as evidence that he was above + conventionalities. “The little man isn't a beauty,” said Sally McTabb, + “but he shows 'race.'” He might be eccentric, but when you came to know + him you couldn't help liking the embryo duke in him. + </p> + <p> + In fact, things were going very well with Mrs. Mavick, except in her own + household. There was something there that did not yield, that did not flow + with her plans. With Lord Montague she was on the most intimate and + confidential relations. He was almost daily at the house. Often she drove + with him; frequently Evelyn was with them. Indeed, the three came to be + associated in the public mind. There could be no doubt of the intentions + of the young nobleman. That he could meet any opposition was not + conceived. + </p> + <p> + The noble lord, since they had been in Newport, had freely opened his mind + to Mrs. Mavick, and on a fit occasion had formally requested her + daughter's hand. Needless to say that he was accepted. Nay, more, he felt + that he was trusted like a son. He was given every opportunity to press + his suit. Somewhat to his surprise, he did not appear to make much + headway. He was rarely able to see her alone, even for a moment. Such + evasiveness in a young girl to a man of his rank astonished him. There + could be no reason for it in himself; there must be some influence at work + unknown to his social experience. + </p> + <p> + He did not reproach Mrs. Mavick with this, but he let her see that he was + very much annoyed. + </p> + <p> + “If I had not your assurance to the contrary, Mrs. Mavick,” he said one + day in a pet, “I should think she shunned me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, Lord Montague, that could not be. I told you that she had had a + peculiar education; she is perfectly ignorant of the world, she is shy, + and—well, for a girl in her position, she is unconventional. She is + so young that she does not yet understand what life is.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean she does not know what I offer her?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear Lord Montague, did you ever offer her anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Not flat, no,” said my lord, hesitating. “Every time I approach her she + shies off like a young filly. There is something I don't understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Evelyn,” and Mrs. Mavick spoke with feeling, “is an affectionate and + dutiful child. She has never thought of marriage. The prospect is all new + to her. But I am sure she would learn to love you if she knew you and her + mind were once turned upon such a union. My lord, why not say to her what + you feel, and make the offer you intend? You cannot expect a young girl to + show her inclination before she is asked.” And Mrs. Mavick laughed a + little to dispel the seriousness. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove! that's so, good enough. I'll do it straight out. I'll tell her + to take it or leave it. No, I don't mean that, of course. I'll tell her + that I can't live without her—that sort of thing, you know. And I + can't, that's just the fact.” + </p> + <p> + “You can leave it confidently to her good judgment and to the friendship + of the family for you.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Montague was silent for a moment, and seemed to be looking at a + problem in his shrewd mind. For he had a shrewd mind, which took in the + whole situation, Mrs. Mavick and all, with a perspicacity that would have + astonished that woman of the world. + </p> + <p> + “There is one thing, perhaps I ought not to say it, but I have seen it, + and it is in my head that it is that—I beg your pardon, madam—that + damned governess.” + </p> + <p> + The shot went home. The suggestion, put into language that could be more + easily comprehended than defended, illuminated Mrs. Mavick's mind in a + flash, seeming to disclose the source of an opposition to her purposes + which secretly irritated her. Doubtless it was the governess. It was her + influence that made Evelyn less pliable and amenable to reason than a + young girl with such social prospects as she had would naturally be. + Besides, how absurd it was that a young lady in society should still have + a governess. A companion? The proper companion for a girl on the edge of + matrimony was her mother! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXI + </h2> + <p> + This idea, once implanted in Mrs. Mavick's mind, bore speedy fruit. No one + would have accused her of being one of those uncomfortable persons who are + always guided by an inflexible sense of justice, nor could it be said that + she was unintelligently unjust. Facile as she was, in all her successful + life she had never acted upon impulse, but from a conscience keenly alive + to what was just to herself. Miss McDonald was in the way. And Mrs. Mavick + had one quality of good generalship—she acted promptly on her + convictions. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Mavick came over next day to spend Sunday in what was called in + print the bosom of his family, he looked very much worn and haggard and + was in an irritated mood. He had been very little in Newport that summer, + the disturbed state of business confining him to the city. And to a man of + his age, New York in midsummer in a panicky season is not a recreation. + </p> + <p> + The moment Mrs. Mavick got her husband alone she showed a lively + solicitude about his health. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it has been dreadfully hot in the city?” + </p> + <p> + “Hot enough. Everything makes it hot.” + </p> + <p> + “Has anything gone wrong? Has that odious Ault turned up again?” + </p> + <p> + “Turned up is the word. Half the time that man is a mole, half the time a + bull in a china-shop. He sails up to you bearing your own flag, and when + he gets aboard he shows the skull and cross-bones.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it so bad as that?” + </p> + <p> + “As bad as what? He is a bad lot, but he is just an adventurer—a + Napoleon who will get his Waterloo before fall. Don't bother about things + you don't understand. How are things down here?” + </p> + <p> + “Going swimmingly.” “So I judged by the bills. How is the lord?” + </p> + <p> + “Now don't be vulgar, Tom. You must keep up your end. Lord Montague is + very nice; he is a great favorite here.” + </p> + <p> + “Does Evelyn like him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she likes him; she likes him very much.” + </p> + <p> + “She didn't show it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, she is awfully shy. And she is rather afraid of him, the big title + and all that. And then she has never been accustomed to act for herself. + She is old enough to be independent and to take her place in the world. At + her age I was not in leading-strings.” + </p> + <p> + “I should say not,” said Mavick. + </p> + <p> + “Except in obedience to my mother,” continued Carmen, not deigning to + notice the sarcasm. “And I've been thinking that McDonald—” + </p> + <p> + “So you want to get rid of her?” + </p> + <p> + “What a brutal way of putting it! No. But if Evelyn is ever to be + self-reliant it is time she should depend more on herself. You know I am + devoted to McDonald. And, what is more, I am used to her. I wasn't + thinking of her. You don't realize that Evelyn is a young lady in society, + and it has become ridiculous for her to still have a governess. Everybody + would say so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, call her a companion.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, don't you see it would be the same? She would still be under her + influence and not able to act for herself.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do? Turn her adrift after eighteen—what is + it, seventeen?—years of faithful service?” + </p> + <p> + “How brutally you put it. I'm going to tell McDonald just how it is. She + is a sensible woman, and she will see that it is for Evelyn's good. And + then it happens very luckily. Mrs. Van Cortlandt asked me last winter if I + wouldn't let her have McDonald for her little girl when we were through + with her. She knew, of course, that we couldn't keep a governess much + longer for Evelyn. I am going to write to her. She will jump at the + chance.” + </p> + <p> + “And McDonald?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she likes Mrs. Van Cortlandt. It will just suit her.” + </p> + <p> + “And Evelyn? That will be another wrench.” Men are so foolishly + tender-hearted about women. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I know it seems hard, and will be for a little. But it is for + Evelyn's good, I am perfectly sure.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mavick was meditating. It was a mighty unpleasant business. But he was + getting tired of conflict. There was an undercurrent in the lives of both + that made him shrink from going deep into any domestic difference. It was + best to yield. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Carmen, I couldn't have the heart to do it. She has been Evelyn's + constant companion all the child's life. Ah, well, it's your own affair. + Only don't stir it up till after I am gone. I must go to the city early + Monday morning.” + </p> + <p> + Because Mavick, amid all the demands of business and society, and his + ambitions for power in the world of finance and politics, had not had much + time to devote to his daughter, it must not be supposed that he did not + love her. In the odd moments at her service she had always been a delight + to him; and, in truth, many of his ambitions had centred in the + intelligent, affectionate, responsive child. But there had been no time + for much real comradeship. + </p> + <p> + This Sunday, however, and it was partly because of pity for the shock he + felt was in store for her, he devoted himself to her. They had a long walk + on the cliff, and he talked to her of his life, of his travels, and his + political experience. She was a most appreciative listener, and in the + warmth of his confidence she opened her mind to him, and rather surprised + him by her range of intelligence and the singular uprightness of her + opinions, and more still by her ready wit and playfulness. It was the + first time she had felt really free with her father, and he for the first + time seemed to know her as she was in her inner life. When they returned + to the house, and she was thanking him with a glow of enthusiasm for such + a lovely day, he lifted her up and kissed her, with an emotion of + affection that brought tears to her eyes. + </p> + <p> + A couple of days elapsed before Mrs. Mavick was ready for action. During + this time she had satisfied herself, by apparently casual conversation + with her daughter and Miss McDonald, that the latter would be wholly out + of sympathy with her intentions in regard to Evelyn. Left to herself she + judged that her daughter would look with more favor upon the brilliant + career offered to her by Lord Montague. When, therefore, one morning the + governess was summoned to her room, her course was decided on. She + received Miss McDonald with more than usual cordiality. She had in her + hand a telegram, and beamed upon her as the bearer of good news. + </p> + <p> + “I have an excellent offer for you, Miss McDonald.” + </p> + <p> + “An offer for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, from Mrs. Van Cortlandt, to be the governess of her daughter, a + sweet little girl of six. She has often spoken about it, and now I have an + urgent despatch from her. She is in need of some one at once, and she + greatly prefers you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean, Mrs. Mavick, that—you—want—that I am to + leave Evelyn, and you?” The room seemed to whirl around her. + </p> + <p> + “It is not what we want, McDonald,” said Mrs. Mavick calmly and still + beaming, “but what is best. Your service as governess has continued much + longer than could have been anticipated, and of course it must come to an + end some time. You understand how hard this separation is for all of us. + Mr. Mavick wanted me to express to you his infinite obligation, and I am + sure he will take a substantial way of showing it. Evelyn is now a young + lady in society, and of course it is absurd for her to continue under + pupilage. It will be best for her, for her character, to be independent + and learn to act for herself in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she—has Evelyn—” + </p> + <p> + “No, I have said nothing to her of this offer, which is a most + advantageous one. Of course she will feel as we do, at first.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, all these years, all her life, since she was a baby, not a day, not + a night, Evelyn, and now—so sweet, so dear—why Mrs. Mavick!” + And the Scotch woman, dazed, with a piteous appeal in her eyes, trying in + vain to control her face, looked at her mistress. + </p> + <p> + “My dear McDonald, you must not take it that way. It is only a change. You + are not going away really, we shall all be in the same city. I am sure you + will—like your new home. Shall I tell Mrs. Van Cortlandt?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell Mrs. Van Cortlandt? Yes, tell her, thanks. I will go—soon—at + once. In a little time, to get-ready. Thanks.” The governess rose and + stood a moment to steady herself. All her life was in ruins. The blow + crushed her. And she had been so happy. In such great peace. It seemed + impossible. To leave Evelyn! She put out her hand as if to speak. Did Mrs. + Mavick understand what she was doing? That it was the same as dragging a + mother away from her child? But she said nothing. Words would not come. + Everything seemed confused and blank. She sank into her chair. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, Mrs. Mavick, I think I am not very strong this morning.” And + presently she stood on her feet again and steadied herself. “You will + please tell Evelyn before—before I see her.” And she walked out of + the room as one in a trance. + </p> + <p> + The news was communicated to Evelyn, quite incidentally, in the manner + that all who knew Mrs. Mavick admired in her. Evelyn had just been in and + out of her mother's room, on one errand and another, and was going out + again, when her mother said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, by-the-way, Evelyn, at last we have got a splendid place for + McDonald.” + </p> + <p> + Evelyn turned, not exactly comprehending. “A place for McDonald? For + what?” + </p> + <p> + “As governess, of course. With Mrs. Van Cortlandt.” + </p> + <p> + “What! to leave us?” The girl walked back to her mother's chair and stood + before her in an attitude of wonder and doubt. “You don't mean, mamma, + that she is going away for good?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a great chance for her. I have been anxious for some time about + employment for her, now that you do not need a governess—haven't + really for a year or two.” + </p> + <p> + “But, mamma, it can't be. She is part of us. She belongs to the family; + she has been in it almost as long as I have. Why, I have been with her + every day of my life. To go away? To give her up? Does she know?” + </p> + <p> + “Does she know? What a child! She has accepted Mrs. Van Cortlandt's offer. + I telegraphed for her this morning. Tomorrow she goes to town to get her + belongings together. Mrs. Van Cortlandt needs her at once. I am sorry to + see, my dear, that you are thinking only of yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Of myself?” The girl had been at first confused, and, as the idea forced + itself upon her mind, she felt weak, and trembled, and was deadly pale. + But when the certainty came, the enormity and cruelty of the dismissal + aroused her indignation. “Myself!” she exclaimed again. Her eyes blazed + with a wrath new to their tenderness, and, stepping back and stamping her + foot; she cried out: “She shall not go! It is unjust! It is cruel!” + </p> + <p> + Her mother had never seen her child like that. She was revealing a spirit + of resistance, a temper, an independence quite unexpected. And yet it was + not altogether displeasing. Mrs. Mavick's respect for her involuntarily + rose. And after an instant, instead of responding with severity, as was + her first impulse, she said, very calmly: + </p> + <p> + “Naturally, Evelyn, you do not like to part with her. None of us do. But + go to your room and think it over reasonably. The relations of childhood + cannot last forever.” + </p> + <p> + Evelyn stood for a moment undecided. Her mother's calm self-control had + not deceived her. She was no longer a child. It was a woman reading a + woman. All her lifetime came back to her to interpret this moment. In the + reaction of the second, the deepest pain was no longer for herself, nor + even for Miss McDonald, but for a woman who showed herself so insensible + to noble feeling. Protest was useless. But why was the separation desired? + She did not fully see, but her instinct told her that it had a relation to + her mother's plans for her; and as life rose before her in the society, in + the world, into which she was newly launched, she felt that she was alone, + absolutely alone. She tried to speak, but before she could collect her + thoughts her mother said: + </p> + <p> + “There, go now. It is useless to discuss the matter. We all have to learn + to bear things.” + </p> + <p> + Evelyn went away, in a tumult of passion and of shame, and obeyed her + impulse to go where she had always found comfort. + </p> + <p> + Miss McDonald was in her own room. Her trunk was opened. She had taken her + clothes from the closet. She was opening the drawers and laying one + article here and another there. She was going from closet to bureau, + opening this door and shutting that in her sitting-room and bedroom, in an + aimless, distracted way. Out of her efforts nothing had so far come but + confusion. It seemed an impossible dream that she was actually packing up + to go away forever. + </p> + <p> + Evelyn entered in a haste that could not wait for permission. + </p> + <p> + “Is it true?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + McDonald turned. She could not speak. Her faithful face was gray with + suffering. Her eyes were swollen with weeping. For an instant she seemed + not to comprehend, and then a flood of motherly feeling overcame her. She + stretched out her arms and caught the girl to her breast in a passionate + embrace, burying her face in her neck in a vain effort to subdue her + sobbing. + </p> + <p> + What was there to say? Evelyn had come to her refuge for comfort, and to + Evelyn the comforter it was she herself who must be the comforter. + Presently she disengaged herself and forced the governess into an easy + chair. She sat down on the arm of the chair and smoothed her hair and + kissed her again and again. + </p> + <p> + “There. I'm going to help you. You'll see you have not taught me for + nothing.” She jumped up and began to bustle about. “You don't know what a + packer I am.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew it must come some time,” she was saying, with a weary air, as she + followed with her eyes the light step of the graceful girl, who was + beginning to sort things and to bring order out of the confusion, holding + up one article after another and asking questions with an enforced + cheerfulness that was more pathetic than any burst of grief. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. There, that is laid in smooth.” She pretended to be thinking + what to put in next, and suddenly she threw herself into McDonald's lap + and began to talk gayly. “It is all my fault, dear; I should have stayed + little. And it doesn't make any difference. I know you love me, and oh, + McDonald, I love you more, a hundred times more, than ever. If you did not + love me! Think how dreadful that would be. And we shall not be + separated-only by streets, don't you know. They can't separate us. I know + you want me to be brave. And some day, perhaps” (and she whispered in her + ear—how many hundred times had she told her girl secrets in that + way!), “if I do have a home of my own, then—” + </p> + <p> + It was not very cheerful talk, however it seemed to be, but it was better + than silence, and in the midst of it, with many interruptions, the packing + was over, and some sort of serenity was attained even by Miss McDonald. + “Yes, dear heart, we have love and trust and hope.” But when the + preparations were all made, and Evelyn went to her own room, there did not + seem to be so much hope, nor any brightness in the midst of this first + great catastrophe of her life. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXII + </h2> + <p> + The great Mavick ball at Newport, in the summer long remembered for its + financial disasters, was very much talked about at the time. Long after, + in any city club, a man was sure to have attentive listeners if he, began + his story or his gossip with the remark that he was at the Mavick ball. + </p> + <p> + It attracted great attention, both on account of the circumstances that + preceded it and the events which speedily followed, and threw a light upon + it that gave it a spectacular importance. The city journals made a feature + of it. They summoned their best artists to illustrate it, and illuminate + it in pen-and-ink, half-tones, startling colors, and photographic + reproductions, sketches theatrical, humorous, and poetic, caricatures, + pictures of tropical luxury and aristocratic pretension; in short, all the + bewildering affluence of modern art which is brought to bear upon the + aesthetic cultivation of the lowest popular taste. They summoned their + best novelists to throw themselves recklessly upon the English language, + and extort from it its highest expression in color and lyrical beauty, the + novelists whose mission it is, in the newspaper campaign against realism, + to adorn and dramatize the commonest events of life, creating in place of + the old-fashioned “news” the highly spiced “story,” which is the ideal + aspiration of the reporter. + </p> + <p> + Whatever may be said about the power of the press, it is undeniable that + it can set the entire public thinking and talking about any topic, however + insignificant in itself, that it may elect to make the sensation of the + day—a wedding, a murder, a political scandal, a divorce, a social + event, a defalcation, a lost child, an unidentified victim of accident or + crime, an election, or—that undefined quickener of patriotism called + a casus belli. It can impose any topic it pleases upon the public mind. In + case there is no topic, it is necessary to make one, for it is an + indefeasible right of the public to have news. + </p> + <p> + These reports of the Mavick ball had a peculiar interest for at least two + people in New York. Murad Ault read them with a sardonic smile and an + enjoyment that would not have been called altruistic. Philip searched them + with the feverish eagerness of a maiden who scans the report of a battle + in which her lover has been engaged. + </p> + <p> + All summer long he had lived upon stray bits of news in the society + columns of the newspapers. To see Evelyn's name mentioned, and only + rarely, as a guest at some entertainment, and often in connection with + that of Lord Montague, did not convey much information, nor was that + little encouraging. Was she well? Was she absorbed in the life of the + season? Did she think of him in surroundings so brilliant? Was she, + perhaps, unhappy and persecuted? No tidings came that could tell him the + things that he ached to know. + </p> + <p> + Only recently intelligence had come to him that at the same time wrung his + heart with pity and buoyed him up with hope. He had not seen Miss McDonald + since her dismissal, for she had been only one night in the city, but she + had written to him. Relieved by her discharge of all obligations of + silence, she had written him frankly about the whole affair, and, indeed, + put him in possession of unrecorded details and indications that filled + him with anxiety, to be sure, but raised his courage and strengthened his + determination. If Evelyn loved him, he had faith that no manoeuvres or + compulsion could shake her loyalty. And yet she was but a girl; she was + now practically alone, and could she resist the family and the social + pressure? Few women could, few women do, effectively resist under such + circumstances. With one of a tender heart, duty often takes the most + specious and deceiving forms. In yielding to the impulses of her heart, + which in her inexperience may be mistaken, has a girl the right—from + a purely rational point of view—to set herself against, nay, to + destroy, the long-cherished ambitions of her parents for a brilliant + social career for her, founded upon social traditions of success? For what + had Mr. Mavick toiled? For what had Mrs. Mavick schemed all these years? + Could the girl throw herself away? Such disobedience, such disregard for + social law, would seem impossible to her mother. + </p> + <p> + Some of the events that preceded the Mavick ball throw light upon that + interesting function. After the departure of Miss McDonald, Mrs. Mavick, + in one of her confidential talks with her proposed son-in-law, confessed + that she experienced much relief. An obstacle seemed to be removed. + </p> + <p> + In fact, Evelyn rather surprised her mother by what seemed a calm + acceptance of the situation. There was no further outburst. If the girl + was often preoccupied and seemed listless, that was to be expected, on the + sudden removal of the companion of her lifetime. + </p> + <p> + But she did not complain. She ceased after a while to speak of McDonald. + If she showed little enthusiasm in what was going on around her, she was + compliant, she fell in at once with her mother's suggestions, and went and + came in an attitude of entire obedience. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't best for you to keep up a correspondence, my dear, now that you + know that McDonald is nicely settled—all reminiscent correspondence + is very wearing—and, really, I am more than delighted to see that + you are quite capable of walking alone. Do you know, Evelyn, that I am + more and more proud of you every day, as my daughter. I don't dare to tell + you half the nice things that are said of you. It would make you vain.” + And the proud mother kissed her affectionately. The letters ceased. If the + governess wrote, Evelyn did not see the letters. + </p> + <p> + As the days went by, Lord Montague, in high and confident spirits, became + more and more a familiar inmate of the house. Daily he sent flowers to + Evelyn; he contrived little excursions and suppers; he was marked in his + attentions wherever they went. “He is such a dear fellow,” said Mrs. + Mavick to one of her friends; “I don't know how we should get on without + him.” + </p> + <p> + Only, in the house, owing to some unnatural perversity of circumstances, + he did not see much of Evelyn, never alone for more than a moment. It is + wonderful what efficient, though invisible, defenses most women, when they + will, can throw about themselves. + </p> + <p> + That the affair was “arranged” Lord Montague had no doubt. It was not + conceivable that the daughter of an American stock-broker would refuse the + offer of a position so transcendent and so evidently coveted in a + democratic society. Not that the single-minded young man reasoned about it + this way. He was born with a most comfortable belief in himself and the + knowledge that when he decided to become a domestic man he had simply, as + the phrase is, to throw his handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + At home, where such qualities as distinguished him from the common were + appreciated without the need of personal exertion, this might be true; but + in America it did seem to be somehow different. American women, at least + some of them, did need to be personally wooed; and many of them had a sort + of independence in the bestowal of their affections or, what they + understood to be the same thing, themselves that must be taken into + account. And it gradually dawned upon the mind of this inheritor of + privilege that in this case the approval of the family, even the pressure + of the mother, was not sufficient; he must have also Evelyn's consent. If + she were a mature woman who knew and appreciated the world, she would + perceive the advantages offered to her without argument. But a girl, just + released from the care of her governess, unaccustomed to society, might + have notions, or, in the vernacular of the scion, might be skittish. + </p> + <p> + And then, again, to do the wooer entire justice, the dark little girl, so + much mistress of herself, so evidently spirited, with such an air of + distinction, began to separate herself in his mind as a good goer against + the field, and he had a real desire to win her affection. The more + indifferent she was to him, the keener was his desire to possess her. His + unsuccessful wooing had passed through several stages, first astonishment, + then pique, and finally something very like passion, or a fair semblance + of devotion, backed, of course, since all natures are more or less mixed, + by the fact that this attractive figure of the woman was thrown into high + relief by the colossal fortune behind her. + </p> + <p> + And Evelyn herself? Neither her mother nor her suitor appreciated the + uncommon circumstances that her education, her whole training in + familiarity with pure and lofty ideals, had rendered her measurably + insensible to the social considerations that seemed paramount to them, or + that there could be any real obstacle to the bestowal of her person. where + her heart was not engaged. Yet she perfectly understood her situation, + and, at times, deprived of her lifelong support, she felt powerless in it, + and she suffered as only the pure and the noble can suffer. Day after day + she fought her battle alone, now and then, as the situation confronted + her, assailed by a shudder of fear, as of one awakening in the night from + a dream of peril, the clutch of an assassin, or the walking on an icy + precipice. If McDonald were only with her! If she could only hear from + Philip! Perhaps he had lost hope and was submitting to the inevitable. + </p> + <p> + The opportunity which Lord Montague had long sought came one day + unexpectedly, or perhaps it was contrived. They were waiting in the + drawing-room for an afternoon drive. The carriage was delayed, and Mrs. + Mavick excused herself to ascertain the cause of the delay. Evelyn and her + suitor were left alone. She was standing by a window looking out, and he + was standing by the fireplace watching the swing of the figure on the + pendulum of the tall mantelpiece clock. He was the first to break the + silence. + </p> + <p> + “Your clock, Miss Mavick, is a little fast.” No reply. “Or else I am + slow.” Still no reply. “They say, you know, that I am a little slow, over + here.” No reply. “I am not, really, you know. I know my mind. And there + was something, Miss Mavick, something particular, that I wanted to say to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” without turning round. “The carriage will be here in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind that,” and Lord Montague moved away from the fireplace and + approached the girl; “take care of the minutes and the hours will take + care of themselves, as the saying is.” At this unexpected stroke of + brilliancy Evelyn did turn round, and stood in an expectant attitude. The + moment had evidently come, and she would not meet it like a coward. + </p> + <p> + “We have been friends a long time; not so very long, but it seems to me + the best part of my life,” he was looking down and speaking slowly, with + the modest deference of a gentleman, “and you must have seen, that is, I + wanted you to see, you know well, that is—er—what I was + staying on here for.” + </p> + <p> + “Because you like America, I suppose,” said Evelyn, coolly. + </p> + <p> + “Because I like some things in America—that is just the fact,” + continued the little lord, with more confidence. “And that is why I + stayed. You see I couldn't go away and leave what was best in the world to + me.” + </p> + <p> + There was an air of simplicity and sincerity about this that was + unexpected, and could not but be respected by any woman. But Evelyn + waited, still immovable. + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't reasonable that you should like a stranger right off,” he went + on, “just at first, and I waited till you got to know me better. Ways are + different here and over there, I know that, but if you came to know me, + Miss Mavick, you would see that I am not such a bad sort of a fellow.” And + a deprecatory smile lighted up his face that was almost pathetic. To + Evelyn this humility seemed genuine, and perhaps it was, for the moment. + Certainly the eyes she bent on, the odd little figure were less severe. + </p> + <p> + “All this is painful to me, Lord Montague.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry,” he continued, in the same tone. “I cannot help it. I must say + it. I—you must know that I love you.” And then, not heeding the + nervous start the girl gave in stepping backward, “And—and, will you + be my wife?” + </p> + <p> + “You do me too much honor, Lord Montague,” said Evelyn, summoning up all + her courage. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, not a bit of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am obliged to you for your good opinion, but you know I am almost a + school-girl. My governess has just left me. I have never thought of such a + thing. And, Lord Montague, I cannot return your feeling. That is all. You + must see how painful this is to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't give you pain, Miss Mavick, not for the world. Perhaps when + you think it over it will seem different to you. I am sure it will. Don't + answer now, for good.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, it cannot be,” said Evelyn, with something of alarm in her tone, + for the full meaning of it all came over her as she thought of her mother. + </p> + <p> + “You are not offended?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Evelyn. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't bear to offend you. You cannot think I would. And you will not + be hard-hearted. You know me, Miss Mavick, just where I am. I'm just as I + said.” + </p> + <p> + “The carriage is coming,” said Mrs. Mavick, who returned at this moment. + </p> + <p> + The group for an instant was silent, and then Evelyn said: + </p> + <p> + “We have waited so long; mamma, that I am a little tired, and you will + excuse me from the drive this afternoon?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + When the two were seated in the carriage, Mrs. Mavick turned to Lord + Montague: + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “No go,” replied my lord, as sententiously, and in evident bad humor. + </p> + <p> + “What? And you made a direct proposal?” + </p> + <p> + “Showed her my whole hand. Made a square offer. Damme, I am not used to + this sort of thing.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean that she refused you?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know what you call it. Wouldn't start.” + </p> + <p> + “She couldn't have understood you. What did she say?” + </p> + <p> + “Said it was too much honor, and that rot. By Jove, she didn't look it. I + rather liked her pluck. She didn't flinch.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is that all?” And Mrs. Mavick spoke as if her mind were relieved. + “What could you expect from such a sudden proposal to a young girl, almost + a child, wholly unused to the world? I should have done the same thing at + her age. It will look different to her when she reflects, and understands + what the position is that is offered her. Leave that to me.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Montague shook his head and screwed up his keen little eyes. His mind + was in full play. “I know women, Mrs. Mavick, and I tell you there is + something behind this. Somebody has been in the stable.” The noble lord + usually dropped into slang when he was excited. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand your language,” said Mrs. Mavick, straightening + herself up in her seat. + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon. It is just a way of speaking on the turf. When a favorite + goes lame the morning of the race, we know some one has been tampering + with him. I tell you there is some one else. She has some one else in her + mind. That's the reason of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense.” cried Mrs. Mavick, with the energy of conviction. “It's + impossible. There is nobody, couldn't be anybody. She has led a secluded + life till this hour. She hasn't a fancy, I know.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you are right,” he replied, in the tone of a man wishing to take a + cheerful view. “Perhaps I don't understand American girls.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I do,” she said, smiling. “They are generally amenable to reason. + Evelyn now has something definite before her. I am glad you proposed.” + </p> + <p> + And this was the truth. Mrs. Mavick was elated. So far her scheme was + completely successful. As to Evelyn, she trusted to various influences she + could bring to bear. Ultimate disobedience of her own wishes she did not + admit as a possible thing. + </p> + <p> + A part of her tactics was the pressure of public opinion, so far as + society represents it—that is, what society expects. And therefore + it happened in a few days that a strong suspicion got about that Lord + Montague had proposed formally to the heiress. The suspicion was + strengthened by appearances. Mrs. Mavick did not deny the rumor. That + there was an engagement was not affirmed, but that the honor had been or + would be declined was hardly supposable. + </p> + <p> + In the painful interview between mother and daughter concerning this + proposal, Evelyn had no reason to give for her opposition, except that she + did not love him. This point Mrs. Mavick skillfully evaded and minimized. + Of course she would love him in time. The happiest marriages were founded + on social fitness and the judgment of parents, and not on the + inexperienced fancies of young girls. And in this case things had gone too + far to retreat. Lord Montague's attentions had been too open and + undisguised. He had been treated almost as a son by the house. Society + looked upon the affair as already settled. Had Evelyn reflected on the + mortification that would fall upon her mother if she persisted in her + unreasonable attitude? And Mrs. Mavick shed actual tears in thinking upon + her own humiliation. + </p> + <p> + The ball which followed these private events was also a part of Mrs. + Mavick's superb tactics. It would be in a way a verification of the public + rumors and a definite form of pressure which public expectation would + exercise upon the lonely girl. + </p> + <p> + The splendor of this function is still remembered. There were, however, + features in the glowing descriptions of it which need to be mentioned. It + was assumed that it was for a purpose, that it was in fact, if not a + proclamation, at least an intimation of a new and brilliant Anglo-Saxon + alliance. No one asserted that an engagement existed. But the prominent + figures in the spectacle were the English lord and the young and beautiful + American heiress. There were portraits of both in half-tone. The full + names and titles expectant of Lord Montague were given, a history of the + dukedom of Tewkesbury and its ancient glory, with the long line of noble + names allied to the young lord, who was a social star of the first + magnitude, a great traveler, a sportsman of the stalwart race that has the + world for its field. (“Poor little Monte,” said the managing editor as he + passed along these embellishments with his approval.) + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, the proposed alliance was no fall in dignity or family + to the English house. The heiress was the direct descendant of the + Eschelles, an old French family, distinguished in camp and court in the + glorious days of the Grand Monarch. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIII + </h2> + <p> + Probably no man ever wrote and published a book, a magazine story, or a + bit of verse without an instant decision to repeat the experiment. The + inclination once indulged becomes insatiable. It is not altogether the + gratified vanity of seeing one's self in print, for, before printing was, + the composers and reciters of romances and songs were driven along the + same path of unrest and anxiety, when once they had the least recognition + of their individual distinction. The impulse is more subtle than the + desire for wealth or the craving for political place. In some cases it is + in simple obedience to the longing to create; in others it is a lower + ambition for notoriety, for praise. + </p> + <p> + In any case the experiment of authorship, in however humble, a way, has an + analogy to that other tempting occupation of making “investments” in the + stock-market: the first trial is certain to lead to another. If the author + succeeds in any degree, his spirit rises to another attempt in the hope of + a wider recognition. If he fails, that is a reason why he should convince + his fellows that the failure was not inherent in himself, but in ill-luck + or a misdirection of his powers. And the experiment has another analogy to + the noble occupation of levying toll upon the change of values—a + first brilliant success is often a misfortune, inducing an overestimate of + capacity, while a very moderate success, recognized indeed only as a + trial, steadies a man, and sets him upon that serious diligence upon which + alone, either in art or business, any solid fortune is built. + </p> + <p> + Philip was fortunate in that his first novel won him a few friends and a + little recognition, but no popularity. It excited neither envy nor + hostility. In the perfunctory and somewhat commercial good words it + received, he recognized the good-nature of the world. In the few short + reviews that dealt seriously with his work, he was able, when the + excitement of seeing himself discussed had subsided, to read between the + lines why The Puritan Nun had failed to make a larger appeal. It was + idyllic and poetic, but it lacked virility; it lacked also simplicity in + dealing with the simple and profound facts of life. He had been too + solicitous to express himself, to write beautifully, instead of letting + the human emotions with which he had to deal show themselves. One notice + had said that it was too “literary”; by which, of course, the critic meant + that he did not follow the solid traditions, the essential elements in all + the great masterpieces of literature that have been created. And yet he + had shown a quality, a facility, a promise, that had gained him a foothold + and a support in the world of books and of the making of books. And though + he had declined Mr. Ault's tempting offer to illuminate his + transcontinental road with a literary torch, he none the less was pleased + with this recognition of his capacity and the value of his name. + </p> + <p> + To say that Philip lived on hope during this summer of heat, suspensions, + and business derangement would be to allow him a too substantial + subsistence. Evelyn, indeed, seemed, at the distance of Newport, more + unattainable than ever, and the scant news he had of the drama enacted + there was a perpetual notice to him of the social gulf that lay between + them. And yet his dream was sustained by occasional assurances from Miss + McDonald of her confidence in Evelyn's belief in him, nay, of her trust, + and she even went so far as to say affection. So he went on building + castles in the air, which melted and were renewed day after day, like the + transient but unfailing splendor of the sunset. + </p> + <p> + There was a certain exaltation in this indulgence of his passion that + stimulated his creative faculties, and, while his daily tasks kept him + from being morbid, his imagination was free to play with the construction + of a new story, to which his recent experience would give a certain + solidity and a knowledge of the human struggle as it is. + </p> + <p> + He found himself observing character more closely than before, looking for + it not so much in books as in the people he met. There was Murad Ault, for + instance. How he would like to put him into a book! Of course it would not + do to copy a model, raw, like' that, but he fell to studying his traits, + trying to see the common humanity exhibited in him. Was he a type or was + he a freak? This was, however, too dangerous ground until he knew more of + life. + </p> + <p> + The week's vacation allowed him by his house was passed in Rivervale. + There, in the calmness of country life, and in the domestic atmosphere of + affection which believed in him, he was far enough removed from the scene + of the spectres of his imagination to see them in proper perspective, and + there the lines of his new venture were laid down, to be worked out later + on, he well knew, in the anxiety and the toil which should endue the + skeleton with life. Rivervale, to be sure, was haunted by the remembrance + of Evelyn; very often the familiar scenes filled him with an intolerable + longing to see again the eyes that had inspired him, to hear the voice + that was like no other in the world, to take the little hand that had + often been so frankly placed in his, and to draw to him the form in which + was embodied all the grace and tender witchery of womanhood. But the + knowledge of what she expected of him was an inspiration, always present + in his visions of her. + </p> + <p> + Something of his hopes and fears Alice divined, and he felt her sympathy, + although she did not intrude upon his reticence by any questions. They + talked about Evelyn, but it was Evelyn in Rivervale, not in Newport. In + fact, the sensible girl could regard her cousin's passion as nothing more + than a romance in a young author's life, and to her it was a sign of his + security that he had projected a new story. + </p> + <p> + With instinctive perception of his need, she was ever turning his thoughts + upon his literary career. Of course she and all the household seemed in a + conspiracy to flatter and encourage the vanity of authorship. Was not all + the village talking about the reputation he had conferred on it? Was it + not proud of him? Indeed, it did imagine that the world outside of + Rivervale was very much interested in him, and that he was already an + author of distinction. The county Gazette had announced, as an important + piece of news, that the author of The Puritan Nun was on a visit to his + relatives, the Maitlands. This paragraph seemed to stand out in the paper + as an almost immodest exposure of family life, read furtively at first, + and not talked of, and yet every member of the family was conscious of an + increase in the family importance. Aunt Patience discovered, from her + outlook on the road, that summer visitors had a habit of driving or + walking past the house and then turning back to look at it again. + </p> + <p> + So Philip was not only distinguished, but he had the power of conferring + distinction. No one can envy a young author this first taste of fame, this + home recognition. Whatever he may do hereafter, how much more substantial + rewards he may attain, this first sweetness of incense to his ambition + will never come to him again. + </p> + <p> + When Philip returned to town, the city was still a social desert, and he + plunged into the work piled up on his desk, the never-ceasing accumulation + of manuscripts, most of them shells which the workers have dredged up from + the mud of the literary ocean, in which the eager publisher is always + expecting to find pearls. Even Celia was still in the country, and + Philip's hours spared from drudgery were given to the new story. His days, + therefore, passed without incident, but not without pleasure. For whatever + annoyances the great city may have usually, it is in the dull season—that + is, the season of its summer out-of-doors animation—a most + attractive and, even stimulating place for the man who has an absorbing + pursuit, say a work in creative fiction. Undisturbed by social claims or + public interests, the very noise and whirl of the gay metropolis seem to + hem him in and protect the world of his own imagination. + </p> + <p> + The first disturbing event in this serenity was the report of the Mavick + ball, already referred to, and the interpretation put upon it by the + newspapers. In this light his plans seemed the merest moonshine. What + became of his fallacious hope of waiting when events were driving on at + this rate? What chance had he in such a social current? Would Evelyn be + strong enough to stem it and to wait also? And to wait for what? For the + indefinite and improbable event of a poor author, hardly yet recognized as + an author, coming into position, into an income (for that was the weak + point in his aspirations) that would not be laughed at by the millionaire. + When he coolly considered it, was it reasonable to expect that Mr. and + Mrs. Mavick would ever permit Evelyn to throw away the brilliant + opportunity for their daughter which was to be the crowning end of their + social ambition? The mere statement of the proposition was enough to + overwhelm him. + </p> + <p> + That this would be the opinion of the world he could not doubt. He felt + very much alone. It was not, however, in any resolve to make a confidante + of Celia, but in an absolute need of companionship, that he went to see if + she had returned. That he had any personal interest in this ball he did + not intend to let Celia know, but talk with somebody he must. Of his deep + affection for this friend of his boyhood, there was no doubt, nor of his + knowledge of her devotion to his interests. Why, then, was he reserved + with her upon the absorbing interest of his life? + </p> + <p> + Celia had returned, before the opening of the medical college, full of a + new idea. This was nothing new in her restless nature; but if Philip had + not been blinded by the common selfishness of his sex, he might have seen + in the gladness of her welcome of him something more than mere sisterly + affection. + </p> + <p> + “Are you real glad to see me, Phil? I thought you might be lonesome by + this time in the deserted city.” + </p> + <p> + “I was, horribly.” He was still holding her hand. “Without a chance to + talk with you or Alice, I am quite an orphan.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! You or Alice!” A shade of disappointment came over her face as she + dropped his hand. But she rallied in a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Poor boy! You ought to have a guardian. What heroine of romance are you + running after now?” + </p> + <p> + “In my new story?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course.” + </p> + <p> + “She isn't very well defined in my mind yet. But a lovely girl, without + anything peculiar, no education to speak of, or career, fascinating in her + womanhood, such as might walk out of the Bible. Don't you think that would + be a novelty? But it is the most difficult to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Negative. That sort has gone out. Philip, why don't you take the heroine + of the Mavick ball? There is a theme.” She was watching him shrewdly, and + saw the flush in his face as he hurriedly asked, + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever see her?” + </p> + <p> + “Only at a distance. But you must know her well enough for a literary + purpose. The reports of the ball give you the setting of the drama.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you read them?” + </p> + <p> + “I should say I did. Most amusing.” + </p> + <p> + “Celia, don't you think it would be an ungentlemanly thing to take a + social event like that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you must take life as it is. Of course you would change the details. + You could lay the scene in Philadelphia. Nobody would suspect you then.” + </p> + <p> + Philip shook his head. The conversation was not taking the turn that was + congenial to him. The ball seemed to him a kind of maelstrom in which all + his hopes were likely to be wrecked. And here was his old friend, the + keenest-sighted woman he knew, looking upon it simply as literary material—a + ridiculous social event. He had better change the subject. + </p> + <p> + “So the college is not open yet?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I came back because I had a new idea, and wanted time to look around. + We haven't got quite the right idea in our city missions. They have + another side. We need country missions.” + </p> + <p> + “Aren't they that now?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I mean for the country. I've been about a good deal all this + vacation, and my ideas are confirmed. The country towns and villages are + full of young hoodlums and toughs, and all sorts of wickedness. They could + be improved by sending city boys up there—yes, and girls of tender + age. I don't mean the worst ones, not altogether. The young of a certain + low class growing up in the country are even worse than the same class in + the city, and they lack a civility of manner which is pretty sure to exist + in a city-bred person.” + </p> + <p> + “If the country is so bad, why send any more unregenerates into it?” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that anybody is always to be unregenerate? But I wouldn't + send thieves and imbeciles. I would select children of some capacity, + whose circumstances are against them where they are, and I am sure they + would make better material than a good deal of the young generation in country + villages now. This is what I mean by a mission for the country. We have + been bending all our efforts to the reformation of the cities. What we + need to go at now is the reforming of the country.” + </p> + <p> + “You have taken a big contract,” said Philip, smiling at her enthusiasm. + “Don't you intend to go on with medicine?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. At least far enough to be of some use in breaking up people's + ignorance about their own bodies. Half the physical as well as moral + misery comes from ignorance. Didn't I always tell you that I want to know? + A good many of my associates pretend to be agnostics, neither believe or + disbelieve in anything. The further I go the more I am convinced that + there is a positive basis for things. They talk about the religion of + humanity. I tell you, Philip, that humanity is pretty poor stuff to build + a religion on.” + </p> + <p> + The talk was wandering far away from what was in Philip's mind, and + presently Celia perceived his want of interest. + </p> + <p> + “There, that is enough about myself. I want to know all about you, your + visit to Rivervale, how the publishing house suits you, how the story is + growing.” + </p> + <p> + And Philip talked about himself, and the rumors in Wall Street, and Mr. + Ault and his offer, and at last about the Mavicks—he could not help + that—until he felt that Celia was what she had always been to him, + and when he went away he held her hand and said what a dear, sweet friend + she was. + </p> + <p> + And when he had gone, Celia sat a long time by the window, not seeing much + of the hot street into which she looked, until there were tears in her + eyes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIV + </h2> + <p> + There was one man in New York who thoroughly enjoyed the summer. Murad + Ault was, as we say of a man who is free to indulge his natural powers, in + his element. There are ingenious people who think that if the ordering of + nature had been left to them, they could maintain moral conditions, or at + least restore a disturbed equilibrium, without violence, without calling + in the aid of cyclones and of uncontrollable electric displays, in order + to clear the air. There are people also who hold that the moral atmosphere + of the world does not require the occasional intervention of Murad Ault. + </p> + <p> + The conceit is flattering to human nature, but it is not borne out by the + performance of human nature in what is called the business world, which is + in such intimate alliance with the social world in such great centres of + conflict as London, New York, or Chicago. Mr. Ault is everywhere an + integral and necessary part of the prevailing system—that is, the + system by which the moral law is applied to business. The system, perhaps, + cannot be defended, but it cannot be explained without Mr. Ault. We may + argue that such a man is a disturber of trade, of legitimate operations, + of the fairest speculations, but when we see how uniform he is as a + phenomenon, we begin to be convinced that he is somehow indispensable to + the system itself. We cannot exactly understand why a cyclone should pick + up a peaceful village in Nebraska and deposit it in Kansas, where there, + is already enough of that sort, but we cannot conceive of Wall Street + continuing to be Wall Street unless it were now and then visited by a + powerful adjuster like Mr. Ault. + </p> + <p> + The advent, then, of Murad Ault in New York was not a novelty, but a + continuation of like phenomena in the Street, ever since the day when + ingenious men discovered that the ability to guess correctly which of two + sparrows, sold for a farthing, lighting on the spire of Trinity Church, + will fly first, is an element in a successful and distinguished career. + There was nothing peculiar in kind in his career, only in the force + exhibited which lifted him among the few whose destructive energy the + world condones and admires as Napoleonic. He may have been an instrument + of Providence. When we do not know exactly what to do with an exceptional + man who is disagreeable, we call him an Instrument of Providence. + </p> + <p> + It is not, then, in anything exceptional that we are interested in the + operations of Murad Ault, but simply on account of his fortuitous + connection with a great fortune which had its origin in very much the same + cyclonic conditions that Mr. Ault reveled in. Those who know Wall Street + best, by reason of sad experience, say that the presiding deity there is + not the Chinese god, Luck, but the awful pagan deity, Nemesis. Alas! how + many innocent persons suffer in order to get justice done in this world. + </p> + <p> + Those who have unimpaired memories may recollect the fortune amassed, many + years previous to this history, by one Rodney Henderson, gathered and + enlarged by means not indictable, but which illustrate the wide divergence + between the criminal code and the moral law. This fortune, upon the sudden + death of its creator, had been largely diverted from its charitable + destination by fraud, by a crime that would have fallen within the code if + it had been known. This fortune had been enjoyed by those who seized it + for many years of great social success, rising into acknowledged + respectability and distinction; and had become the basis of the chance of + social elevation, which is dear to the hearts of so many excellent people, + who are compelled to wander about in a chaotic society that has no + hereditary titles. It was this fortune, the stake in such an ambition, or + perhaps destined in a new possessor to a nobler one, that came in the way + of Mr. Ault's extensive schemes. + </p> + <p> + It is not necessary to infer that Mr. Ault was originally actuated by any + greed as to this special accumulation of property, or that he had any + malevolence towards Mr. Mavick; but the eagerness of his personal pursuit + led him into collisions. There were certain possessions of Mr. Mavick that + were desirable for the rounding-out of his plans—these graspings + were many of them understood by the public as necessary to the + “development of a system”—and in this collision of interests and + fierce strength a vindictive feeling was engendered, a feeling born, as + has been hinted, by Mr. Mavick's attempt to trick his temporary ally in a + certain operation, so that Mr. Ault's main purpose was to “down Mavick.” + This was no doubt an exaggeration concerning a man with so many domestic + virtues as Mr. Ault, meaning by domestic virtues indulgence of his family; + but a fight for place or property in politics or in the Street is pretty + certain to take on a personal character. + </p> + <p> + We can understand now why Mr. Ault read the accounts of the Mavick ball + with a grim smile. In speaking of it he used the vulgar term “splurge,” a + word especially offensive to the refined society in which the Mavicks had + gained a foothold. And yet the word was on the lips of a great many men on + the Street. The shifting application of sympathy is a very queer thing in + this world. Mr. Ault was not a snob. Whatever else he was, he made few + pretensions. In his first advent he had been resisted as an intruder and + shunned as a vulgarian; but in time respect for his force and luck mingled + with fear of his reckless talent, and in the course of events it began to + be admitted that the rough diamond was being polished into one of the + corner-stones of the great business edifice. At the time of this writing + he did not altogether lack the sympathy of the Street, and an increasing + number of people were not sorry to see Mr. Mavick get the worst of it in + repeated trials of strength. And in each of these trials it became + increasingly difficult for Mr. Mavick to obtain the assistance and the + credit which are often indispensable to the strongest men in a panic. + </p> + <p> + The truth was that there were many men in the Street who were not sorry to + see Mr. Mavick worried. They remembered perfectly well the omniscient + snobbishness of Thomas Mavick when he held a position in the State + Department at Washington and was at the same time a secret agent of Rodney + Henderson. They did not change their opinion of him when, by his alliance + with Mrs. Henderson, he stepped into control of Mr. Henderson's property + and obtained the mission to Rome; but later on he had been accepted as one + of the powers in the financial world. There were a few of the old stagers + who never trusted him. Uncle Jerry Hollowell, for instance, used to say, + “Mavick is smart, smart as lightnin'; I guess he'll make ducks and drakes + of the Henderson property.” They are very superficial observers of Wall + Street who think that character does not tell there. Mr. Mavick may have + realized that when in his straits he looked around for assistance. + </p> + <p> + The history of this panic summer in New York would not be worthy the + reader's attention were not the fortunes of some of his acquaintances + involved in it. It was not more intense than the usual panics, but it + lasted longer on account of the complications with uncertain government + policy, and it produced stagnation in social as well as business circles. + So quiet a place as Rivervale felt it in the diminution of city visitors, + and the great resorts showed it in increased civility to the small number + of guests. + </p> + <p> + The summer at Newport, which had not been distinguished by many great + events, was drawing to a close—that is, it was in the period when + those who really loved the charming promenade which is so loved of the sea + began to enjoy themselves, and those who indulge in the pleasures of hope, + based upon a comfortable matrimonial establishment, are reckoning up the + results of the campaign. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mavick, according to her own assertion, was one of those who enjoy + nature. “Nature and a few friends, not too many, only those whom one + trusts and who are companionable,” she had said to Lord Montague. + </p> + <p> + This young gentleman had found the pursuit of courtship in America + attended by a good many incidental social luxuries. It had been a wise + policy to impress him with the charm of a society which has unlimited + millions to make it attractive. Even to an impecunious noble there is a + charm in this, although the society itself has some of the lingering + conditions of its money origin. But since the great display of the ball, + and the legitimate inferences drawn from it by the press and the + fashionable world, Mrs. Mavick had endeavored to surround her intended + son-in-law with the toils of domestic peace. + </p> + <p> + He must be made to feel at home. And this she did. Mrs. Mavick was as + admirable in the role of a domestic woman as of a woman of the world. The + simple pleasures, the confidences, the intimacies of home life surrounded + him. His own mother, the aged duchess, could not have looked upon him with + more affection, and possibly not have pampered him with so many luxuries. + There was only one thing wanting to make this home complete. In + conventional Europe the contracting parties are not the signers of the + marriage contract. In the United States the parties most interested take + the initiative in making the contract. + </p> + <p> + Here lay the difficulty of the situation, a situation that puzzled Lord + Montague and enraged Mrs. Mavick. Evelyn maintained as much indifference + to the domestic as to the worldly situation. Her mother thought her + lifeless and insensible; she even went so far as to call her unwomanly in + her indifference to what any other woman would regard as an opportunity + for a brilliant career. + </p> + <p> + Lifeless indeed she was, poor child; physically languid and scarcely able + to drag herself through the daily demands upon her strength. Her mother + made it a reproach that she was so pale and unresponsive. Apparently she + did not resist, she did everything she was told to do. She passed, indeed, + hours with Lord Montague, occasions contrived when she was left alone in + the house with him, and she made heroic efforts to be interested, to find + something in his mind that was in sympathy with her own thoughts. With a + woman's ready instinct she avoided committing herself to his renewed + proposals, sometimes covert, sometimes direct, but the struggle tired her. + At the end of all such interviews she had to meet her mother, who, with a + smile of hope and encouragement, always said, “Well, I suppose you and + Lord Montague have made it up,” and then to encounter the contempt + expressed for her as a “goose.” + </p> + <p> + She was helpless in such toils. At times she felt actually abandoned of + any human aid, and in moods of despondency almost resolved to give up the + struggle. In the eyes of the world it was a good match, it would make her + mother happy, no doubt her father also; and was it not her duty to put + aside her repugnance, and go with the current of the social and family + forces that seemed irresistible? + </p> + <p> + Few people can resist doing what is universally expected of them. This + invisible pressure is more difficult to stand against than individual + tyranny. There are no tragedies in our modern life so pathetic as the + ossification of women's hearts when love is crushed under the compulsion + of social and caste requirements. Everybody expected that Evelyn would + accept Lord Montague. It could be said that for her own reputation the + situation required this consummation of the intimacy of the season. And + the mother did not hesitate to put this interpretation upon the events + which were her own creation. + </p> + <p> + But with such a character as Evelyn, who was a constant puzzle to her + mother, this argument had very little weight compared with her own sense + of duty to her parents. Her somewhat ideal education made worldly + advantages of little force in her mind, and love the one priceless + possession of a woman's heart which could not be bartered. And yet might + there not be an element of selfishness in this—might not its + sacrifice be a family duty? Mrs. Mavick having found this weak spot in her + daughter's armor, played upon it with all her sweet persuasive skill and + show of tenderness. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, dear,” she said, “you know what would make me happy. But I do + not want you to yield to my selfishness or even to your father's ambition + to see his only child in an exalted position in life. I can bear the + disappointment. I have had to bear many. But it is your own happiness I am + thinking of. And I think also of the cruel blow your refusal will inflict + upon a man whose heart is bound up in you.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't love him.” The girl was very pale, and she spoke with an air + of weariness, but still with a sort of dogged persistence. + </p> + <p> + “You will in time. A young girl never knows her own heart, any more than + she knows the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, that isn't all. It would be a sin to him to pretend to give him a + heart that was not his. I can't; I can't.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear child, that is his affair. He is willing to trust you, and to win + your love. When we act from a sense of duty the way is apt to open to us. + I have never told you of my own earlier experience. I was not so young as + you are when I married Mr. Henderson, but I had not been without the + fancies and experiences of a young girl. I might have yielded to one of + them but for family reasons. My father had lost his fortune and had died, + disappointed and broken down. My mother, a lovely woman, was not strong, + was not capable of fighting the world alone, and she depended upon me, for + in those days I had plenty of courage and spirit. Mr. Henderson was a + widower whom we had known as a friend before the death of his accomplished + wife. In his lonesomeness he turned to me. In our friendlessness I turned + to him. Did I love him? I esteemed him, I respected him, I trusted him, + that was all. He did not ask more than that. And what a happy life we had! + I shared in all his great plans. And when in the midst of his career, with + such large ideas of public service and philanthropy, he was stricken down, + he left to me, in the confidence of his love, all that fortune which is + some day to be yours.” Mrs. Mavick put her handkerchief to her eyes. “Ah, + well, our destiny is not in our hands. Heaven raised up for me another + protector, another friend. Perhaps some of my youthful illusions have + vanished, but should I have been happier if I had indulged them? I know + your dear father does not think so.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” cried Evelyn, deeply moved by this unprecedented confidence, “I + cannot bear to see you suffer on my account. But must not every one decide + for herself what is right before God?” + </p> + <p> + At this inopportune appeal to a higher power Mrs. Mavick had some + difficulty in restraining her surprise and indignation at what she + considered her child's stubbornness. But she conquered the inclination, + and simply looked sad and appealing when she said: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, you must decide for yourself. You must not consider your mother + as I did mine.” + </p> + <p> + This cruel remark cut the girl to the heart. The world seemed to whirl + around her, right and wrong and duty in a confused maze. Was she, then, + such a monster of ingratitude? She half rose to throw herself at her + mother's feet, upon her mother's mercy. And at the moment it was not her + reason but her heart that saved her. In the moral confusion rose the image + of Philip. Suppose she should gain the whole world and lose him! And it + was love, simple, trusting love, that put courage into her sinking heart. + </p> + <p> + “Mother, it is very hard. I love you; I could die for you. I am so + forlorn. But I cannot, I dare not, do such a thing, such a dreadful + thing!” + </p> + <p> + She spoke brokenly, excitedly, she shuddered as she said the last words, + and her eyes were full of tears as she bent down and kissed her mother. + </p> + <p> + When she had gone, Mrs. Mavick sat long in her chair, motionless between + bewilderment and rage. In her heart she was saying, “The obstinate, + foolish girl must be brought to reason!” + </p> + <p> + A servant entered with a telegram. Mrs. Mavick took it, and held it + listlessly while the servant waited. “You can sign.” After the door closed—she + was still thinking of Evelyn—she waited a moment before she tore the + envelope, and with no eagerness unfolded the official yellow paper. And + then she read: + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “I have made an assignment. T. M.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + A half-hour afterwards when a maid entered the room she found Mrs. Mavick + still seated in the armchair, her hands powerless at her side, her eyes + staring into space, her face haggard and old. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXV + </h2> + <p> + The action of Thomas Mavick in giving up the fight was as unexpected in + New York as it was in Newport. It was a shock even to those familiar with + the Street. It was known that he was in trouble, but he had been in + trouble before. It was known that there had been sacrifices, efforts at + extension, efforts at compromise, but the general public fancied that the + Mavick fortune had a core too solid to be washed away by any storm. Only a + very few people knew—such old hands as Uncle Jerry Hollowell, and + such inquisitive bandits as Murad Ault—that the house of Mavick was + a house of cards, and that it might go down when the belief was destroyed + that it was of granite. + </p> + <p> + The failure was not an ordinary sensation, and, according to the excellent + practices and differing humors of the daily newspapers, it was made the + most of, until the time came for the heavy weeklies to handle it in its + moral aspects as an illustration of modern civilization. On the first + morning there was substantial unanimity in assuming the totality of the + disaster, and the most ingenious artists in headlines vied with each other + in startling effects: “Crash in Wall Street.” “Mavick Runs Up the White + Flag.” “King of Wall Street Called Down.” “Ault Takes the Pot.” “Dangerous + to Dukes.” “Mavick Bankrupt.” “The House of Mavick a Ruin.” “Dukes and + Drakes.” “The Sea Goes Over Him.” + </p> + <p> + This, however, was only the beginning. The sensation must be prolonged. + The next day there were attenuating circumstances. + </p> + <p> + It might be only a temporary embarrassment. The assets were vastly greater + than the liabilities. There was talk in financial circles of an + adjustment. With time the house could go on. The next day it was made a + reproach to the house that such deceptive hopes were put upon the public. + Journalistic enterprise had discovered that the extent of the liabilities + had been concealed. This attempt to deceive the public, these defenders of + the public interest would expose. The next day the wind blew from another + direction. The alarmists were rebuked. The creditors were disposed to be + lenient. Doubtful securities were likely to realize more than was + expected. The assignees were sharply scored for not taking the newspapers + into their confidence. + </p> + <p> + And so for ten days the failure went on in the newspapers, backward and + forward, now hopeless, now relieved, now sunk in endless complications, + and fallen into the hands of the lawyers who could be trusted with the + most equitable distribution of the property involved, until the reading + public were glad to turn, with the same eager zest, to the case of the + actress who was found dead in a hotel in Jersey City. She was attended + only by her pet poodle, in whose collar was embedded a jewel of great + price. This jewel was traced to a New York establishment, whence it had + disappeared under circumstances that pointed to the criminality of a scion + of a well-known family—an exposure which would shake society to its + foundations. + </p> + <p> + Meantime affairs took their usual course. The downfall of Mavick is too + well known in the Street to need explanation here. For a time it was hoped + that sacrifices of great interests would leave a modest little fortune, + but under the pressure of liquidation these hopes melted away. If anything + could be saved it would be only comparatively valueless securities and + embarrassed bits of property that usually are only a delusion and a source + of infinite worry to a bankrupt. It seemed incredible that such a vast + fortune should so disappear; but there were wise men who, so they + declared, had always predicted this disaster. For some years after + Henderson's death the fortune had appeared to expand marvelously. It was, + however, expanded, and not solidified. It had been risked in many gigantic + speculations (such as the Argentine), and it had been liable to collapse + at any time if its central credit was doubted. Mavick's combinations were + splendidly conceived, but he lacked the power of coordination. And great + as were his admitted abilities, he had never inspired confidence. + </p> + <p> + “And, besides,” said Uncle Jerry, philosophizing about it in his homely + way, “there's that little devil of a Carmen, the most fascinating woman I + ever knew—it would take the Bank of England to run her. Why, when I + see that Golden House going up, I said I'd give 'em five years to balloon + in it. I was mistaken. They've floated it about eighteen. Some folks are + lucky—up to a certain point.” + </p> + <p> + Grave history gives but a paragraph to a personal celebrity of this sort. + When a ship goes down in a tempest off the New England coast, there is a + brief period of public shock and sympathy, and then the world passes on to + other accidents and pleasures; but for months relics of the great vessel + float ashore on lonely headlands or are cast up on sandy beaches, and for + years, in many a home made forlorn by the shipwreck, are aching hearts and + an ever-present calamity. + </p> + <p> + The disaster of the house of Mavick was not accepted without a struggle, + lasting long after the public interest in the spectacle had abated—a + struggle to save the ship and then to pick up some debris from the great + wreck. The most pathetic sight in the business world is that of a + bankrupt, old and broken, pursuing with always deluded expectations the + remnants of his fortune, striving to make new combinations, involved in + lawsuits, alternately despairing, alternately hopeful in the chaos of his + affairs. This was the fate of Thomas Mavick. + </p> + <p> + The news was all over Newport in a few hours after it had stricken down + Mrs. Mavick. The newspaper details the morning after were read with that + eager interest that the misfortunes of neighbors always excite. After her + first stupor, Mrs. Mavick refused to believe it. It could not be, and her + spirit of resistance rose with the frantic messages she sent to her + husband. Alas, the cold fact of the assignment remained. Still her courage + was not quite beaten down. The suspension could only be temporary. She + would not have it otherwise. Two days she showed herself as usual in + Newport, and carried herself bravely. The sympathy looked or expressed was + wormwood to her, but she met it with a reassuring smile. To be sure it was + very hard to bear such a blow, the result of a stock intrigue, but it + would soon pass over—it was a temporary embarrassment—that she + said everywhere. + </p> + <p> + She had not, however, told the news to Evelyn with any such smiling + confidence. There was still rage in her heart against her daughter, as if + her obstinacy had some connection with this blow of fate, and she did not + soften the announcement. She expected to sting her, and she did astonish + and she did grieve her, for the breaking-up of her world could not do + otherwise; but it was for her mother and not for herself that Evelyn + showed emotion. If their fortune was gone, then the obstacle was removed + that separated her from Philip. The world well lost! This flashed through + her mind before she had fairly grasped the extent of the fatality, and it + blunted her appreciation of it as an unmixed ruin. + </p> + <p> + “Poor mamma!” was what she said. + </p> + <p> + “Poor me!” cried Mrs. Mavick, looking with amazement at her daughter, + “don't you understand that our life is all ruined?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that part of it, but we are left. It might have been so much worse.” + </p> + <p> + “Worse? You have no more feeling than a chip. You are a beggar! That is + all. What do you mean by worse?” + </p> + <p> + “If father had done anything dishonorable!” suggested the girl, timidly, a + little scared by her mother's outburst. + </p> + <p> + “Evelyn, you are a fool!” + </p> + <p> + And perhaps she was, with such preposterous notions of what is really + valuable in life. There could be no doubt of it from Mrs. Mavick's point + of view. + </p> + <p> + If Evelyn's conduct exasperated her, the non-appearance of Lord Montague + after the publication of the news seriously alarmed her. No doubt he was + shocked, but she could explain it to him, and perhaps he was too much + interested in Evelyn to be thrown off by this misfortune. The third day + she wrote him a note, a familiar, almost affectionate note, chiding him + for deserting them in their trouble. She assured him that the news was + greatly exaggerated, the embarrassment was only temporary, such things + were always happening in the Street. “You know,” she said, playfully, “it + is our American way to be up in a minute when we seem to be down.” She + asked him to call, for she had something that was important to tell him, + and, besides, she needed his counsel as a friend of the house. The note + was despatched by a messenger. + </p> + <p> + In an hour it was returned, unopened, with a verbal message from his host, + saying that Lord Montague had received important news from London, and + that he had left town the day before. + </p> + <p> + “Coward!” muttered the enraged woman, with closed teeth. “Men are all + cowards, put them to the test.” + </p> + <p> + The energetic woman judged from a too narrow basis. Because Mavick was + weak—and she had always secretly despised him for yielding to her—weak + as compared with her own indomitable spirit, she generalized wildly. Her + opinion of men would have been modified if she had come in contact with + Murad Ault. + </p> + <p> + To one man in New York besides Mr. Ault the failure did not seem a + personal calamity. When Philip saw in the steamer departures the name of + Lord Montague, his spirits rose in spite of the thought that the heiress + was no longer an heiress. The sky lifted, there was a promise of fair + weather, the storm, for him, had indeed cleared the air. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Philip,” wrote Miss McDonald, “it is really dreadful news, but I + cannot be so very downhearted. It is the least of calamities that could + happen to my dear child. Didn't I tell you that it is always darkest just + before the dawn?” + </p> + <p> + And Philip needed the hope of the dawn. Trial is good for any one, but + hopeless suffering for none. Philip had not been without hope, but it was + a visionary indulgence, against all evidence. It was the hope of youth, + not of reason. He stuck to his business doggedly, he stuck to his writing + doggedly, but over all his mind was a cloud, an oppression not favorable + to creative effort—that is, creative effort sweet and not cynical, + sunny and not morbid. + </p> + <p> + And yet, who shall say that this very experience, this oppression of + circumstance, was not the thing needed for the development of the best + that was in him? Thrown back upon himself and denied an airy soaring in + the heights of a prosperous fancy, he had come to know himself and his + limitations. And in the year he had learned a great deal about his art. + For one thing he had come to the ground. He was looking more at life as it + is. His experience at the publishers had taught him one important truth, + and that is that a big subject does not make a big writer, that all that + any mind can contribute to the general thought of the world in literature + is what is in itself, and if there is nothing in himself it is vain for + the writer to go far afield for a theme. He had seen the young artists, + fretting for want of subjects, wandering the world over in search of an + object fitted to their genius, setting up their easels in front of the + marvels of nature and of art, in the expectation that genius would descend + upon them. + </p> + <p> + If they could find something big enough to paint! And he had seen, in + exhibition after exhibition, that the artist who cannot paint a rail-fence + cannot paint a pyramid. A man does not become a good rider by mounting an + elephant; ten to one a donkey would suit him better. Philip had begun to + see that the life around him had elements enough of the comic and the + tragic to give full play to all his powers. + </p> + <p> + He began to observe human beings as he had never done before. There were + only two questions, and they are at the bottom of all creative literature—could + he see them, could he make others see them? + </p> + <p> + This was all as true before the Mavick failure as after; but, before, what + was the use of effort? Now there was every inducement to effort. Ambition + to succeed had taken on him the hold of necessity. And with a free mind as + to the obstacles that lay between him and the realization of the great + dream of his life, the winning of the one woman who could make his life + complete, Philip set to work with an earnestness and a clearness of vision + that had never been given him before. + </p> + <p> + In the wreck of the Mavick estate, in its distribution, there are one or + two things of interest to the general reader. One of these was the fate of + the Golden House, as it was called. Mrs. Mavick had hurried back to her + town house, determined to save it at all hazard. The impossibility of this + was, however, soon apparent even to her intrepid spirit. She would either + sacrifice all else to save it, or—dark thoughts of ending it in a + conflagration entered her mind. This was only her first temper. But to + keep the house without a vast fortune to sustain it was an impossibility, + and, as it was the most conspicuous of Mavick's visible possessions, + perhaps the surrender of it, which she could not prevent, would save + certain odds and ends here and there. Whether she liked it or not, the + woman learned for once that her will had little to do with the course of + events. + </p> + <p> + Its destination was gall and wormwood both to Carmen and her husband. For + it fell into the hands of Murad Ault. He coveted it as the most striking + symbol of the position he had conquered in the metropolis. Its + semi-barbaric splendor appealed also to his passion for display. And it + was notable that the taste of the rude lad of poverty—this + uncultivated offspring of a wandering gypsy and herb—collector—perhaps + she had ancient and noble blood in her veins—should be the same for + material ostentation and luxury as that of the cultivated, fastidious + Mavick and his worldly-minded wife. So persistent is the instinct of + barbarism in our modern civilization. + </p> + <p> + When Ault told his wife what he had done, that sweet, domestic, and + sensible woman was very far from being elated. + </p> + <p> + “I am almost sorry,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Sorry for what?” asked Mr. Ault, gently, but greatly surprised. + </p> + <p> + “For the Mavicks. I don't mean for Mrs. Mavick—I hear she is a + worldly and revengeful woman—but for the girl. It must be dreadful + to turn her out of all the surroundings of her happy life. And I hear she + is as good as she is lovely. Think what it would be for our own girls.” + </p> + <p> + “But it can't be helped,” said Ault, persuasively. “The house had to be + sold, and it makes no difference who has it, so far as the girl is + concerned.” + </p> + <p> + “And don't you fear a little for our own girls, launching out that way?” + </p> + <p> + “You are afraid they will get lost in that big house?” And Mr. Ault + laughed. “It isn't a bit too big or too good for them. At any rate, my + dear, in they go, and you must get ready to move. The house will be empty + in a week.” + </p> + <p> + “Murad,” and Mrs. Ault spoke as if she were not thinking of the change for + herself, “there is one thing I wish you would do for me, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Go to Mr. Mavick, or to Mrs. Mavick, or the assignees or whoever, and + have the daughter—yes, and her mother—free to take away + anything they want, anything dear to them by long association. Will you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see how. Mavick wouldn't do it for us, and I guess he is too + proud to accept anything from me. I don't owe him anything. And then the + property is in the assignment. Whatever is there I bought with the house.” + </p> + <p> + “I should be so much happier if you could do something about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it don't matter much. I guess the assignees can make Mrs. Mavick + believe easy enough that certain things belong to her. But I would not do + it for any other living being but you.” + </p> + <p> + “By-the-way,” he added, “there is another bit of property that I didn't + take, the Newport palace.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have dreaded that more than the other.” + </p> + <p> + “So I thought. And I have another plan. It's long been in my mind, and we + will carry it out next summer. There is a little plateau on the side of + the East Mountain in Rivervale, where there used to stand a shack of a + cabin, with a wild sort of garden-patch about it, a tumble-down root + fence, all in the midst of brush and briers. Lord, what a habitation it + was! But such a view—rivers, mountains, meadows, and orchards in the + distance! That is where I lived with my mother. What a life! I hated + everything, everybody but her.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ault paused, his strong, dark face working with passion, as the memory + of his outlawed boyhood revived. Is it possible that this pirate of the + Street had a bit of sentiment at the bottom of his heart? After a moment + he continued: + </p> + <p> + “That was the spot to which my mother took me when I was knee-high. I've + bought it, bought the whole hillside. Next summer we will put up a house + there, not a very big house, just a long, low sort of a Moorish pavilion, + the architect calls it. I wish she could see it.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ault rose, with tears in her gentle eyes, stood by her husband's + chair a moment, ran her fingers through his heavy black locks, bent down + and kissed him, and went away without a word. + </p> + <p> + There was another bit of property that was not included in the wreck. It + belonged to Mrs. Mavick. This was a little house in Irving Place, in which + Carmen Eschelle lived with her mother, in the days before the death of + Henderson's first wife, not very happy days for that wife. Carmen had a + fancy for keeping it after her marriage. Not from any sentiment, she told + Mr. Mavick on the occasion of her second marriage, oh, no, but somehow it + seemed to her, in all her vast possessions left to her by Henderson, the + only real estate she had. It was the only thing that had not passed into + the absolute possession and control of Mavick. The great town house, with + all the rest, stood in Mavick's name. What secret influence had he over + her that made her submit to such a foolish surrender? + </p> + <p> + It was in this little house that the reduced family stowed itself after + the downfall. The little house, had it been sentient, would have been + astonished at the entrance into it of the furniture and the remnants of + luxurious living that Mrs. Mavick was persuaded belonged to her + personally. These reminders of former days were, after all, a mockery in + the narrow quarters and the pinched economy of the bankrupt. Yet they + were, for a time useful in preserving to Mrs. Mavick a measure of + self-respect, her self-respect having always been based upon what she had + and not what she was. In truth, the change of lot was harder for Mrs. + Mavick than for Evelyn, since the world in which the latter lived had not + been destroyed. She still had her books, she still had a great love in her + heart, and hope, almost now a sure hope, that her love would blossom into + a great happiness. + </p> + <p> + But where was Philip? In all this time why did he make no sign? At moments + a great fear came over her. She was so ignorant of life. Could he know + what misery she was in, the daily witness of her father's broken + condition, of her mother's uncertain temper? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVI + </h2> + <p> + Is justice done in this world only by a succession of injustices? Is there + any law that a wrong must right a wrong? Did it rebuke the means by which + the vast fortune of Henderson was accumulated, that it was defeated of any + good use by the fraud of his wife? Was her action punished by the same + unscrupulous tactics of the Street that originally made the fortune? And + Ault? Would a stronger pirate arise in time to despoil him, and so act as + the Nemesis of all violation of the law of honest relations between men? + </p> + <p> + The comfort is, in all this struggle of the evil powers, masked as + justice, that the Almighty Ruler of the world does not forget his own, and + shows them a smiling face in the midst of disaster. There is no mystery in + this. For the noble part in man cannot be touched in its integrity by such + vulgar disasters as we are considering. In those days when Evelyn saw + dissolving about her the material splendors of her old life, while the + Golden House was being dismantled, and she was taking sad leave of the + scenes of her girlhood, so vivid with memory of affection and of + intellectual activity, they seemed only the shell, the casting-off of + which gave her freedom. The sun never shone brighter, there was never such + singing in her heart, as on the morning when she was free to go to Mrs. + Van Cortlandt's and throw herself into the arms of her dear governess and + talk of Philip. + </p> + <p> + Why not? Perhaps she had not that kind of maidenly shyness, sometimes + called conventional propriety, sometimes described as 'mauvaise honte' + which a woman of the world would have shown. The impulses of her heart + followed as direct lines as the reasoning of her brain. Was it due to her + peculiar education, education only in the noblest ideas of the race, that + she should be a sort of reversion, in our complicated life, to the type of + woman in the old societies (we like to believe there was such a type as + the poets love, the Nausicaas), who were single-minded, as frank to avow + affection as opinion? + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen him?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, but he has written.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think he—” the girl had her arms around her friend's neck + again, and concealed her blushing face, “don't make me say it, McDonald.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear, I am sure—I know he does.” + </p> + <p> + There was a little quiver in her form, but it was not of agony; then she + put her hands on the shoulders of her governess, and, looking in her eyes, + said: + </p> + <p> + “When you did see him, how did he look—how did he look?—pretty + sad?” + </p> + <p> + “How could he help it?” + </p> + <p> + “The dear! But was he well?” + </p> + <p> + “Splendidly, so he said. Like his old self.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + And Miss McDonald went into delightful details, how he looked, how he + walked, how his voice sounded, how he talked, how melancholy he was, and + how full of determination he was, his eyes were so kindly, and his smile + was never so sweet as now when there was sadness in it. + </p> + <p> + “It is very long since,” drearily murmured the girl. And then she + continued, partly to herself, partly to Miss McDonald: “He will come now, + can't he? Not to that house. Never would I wish him to set foot in it. But + he is not forbidden to come to the place where we are going. Soon, you + think? Perhaps you might hint—oh no, not from me—just your + idea. Wouldn't it be natural, after our misfortune? Perhaps mamma would + feel differently after what has happened. Oh, that Montague! that horrid + little man! I think—I think I shall receive him coolly at first, + just to see.” + </p> + <p> + But it was not immediately that the chance for a guileless woman to show + her coolness to her lover was to occur. This postponement was not due to + the coolness or to the good sense of Philip. When the catastrophe came, + his first impulse was that of a fireman who plunges into a burning + building to rescue the imperiled inmates. He pictured in his mind a + certain nobility of action in going forward to the unfortunate family with + his sympathy, and appearing to them in the heroic attitude of a man whose + love has no alloy of self-interest. They should speedily understand that + it was not the heiress, but the woman, with whom he was in love. + </p> + <p> + But Miss McDonald understood human nature better than that, at least the + nature of Mrs. Mavick. People of her temperament, humiliated and enraged, + are best left alone. The fierceness with which she would have turned upon + any of her society friends who should have presumed to offer her + condolence, however sweetly the condescension were concealed, would have + been vented without mercy upon the man whose presence would have reminded + her of her foolish rudeness to him, and of the bitter failure of her + schemes for her daughter. “Wait, wait,” said the good counselor, “until + the turmoil has subsided, and the hard pressure of circumstances compels + her to look at things in their natural relations. She is too sore now in—the + wreck of all her hopes.” + </p> + <p> + But, indeed, her hopes were not all surrendered in a moment. She had more + spirit than her husband in their calamity. She was, in fact, a born + gambler; she had the qualities of her temperament, and would not believe + that courage and luck could not retrieve, at least partially, their + fortune. It seemed incredible in the Street that the widow of Henderson + should have given over her property so completely to her second husband, + and it was a surprise to find that there was very little of value that the + assignment of Mavick did not carry with it. The Street did not know the + guilty secret between Mavick and his wife that made them cowards to each + other. Nor did it understand that Carmen was the more venturesome gambler + of the two, and that gradually, for the success of promising schemes, she + had thrown one thing after another into the common speculation, until + practically all the property stood in Mavick's name. Was she a fool in + this, as so many women are about their separate property, or was she + cheated? + </p> + <p> + The palace on Fifth Avenue was not even in her name. When she realized + that, there was a scene—but this is not a history of the quarrels of + Carmen and her husband after the break-down. + </p> + <p> + The reader would not be interested—the public of the time were not—in + the adjustment of Mavick and his wife to their new conditions. The + broken-down, defeated bankrupt is no novelty in Wall Street, the man + struggling to keep his foothold in the business of the Street, and + descending lower and lower in the scale. The shrewd curbstone broker may + climb to a seat in the Stock Exchange; quite as often a lord of the Board, + a commander of millions, may be reduced to the seedy watcher of the + bulletin-board in a bucket-shop. + </p> + <p> + At first, in the excitement and the confusion, amid the debris of so much + possible wealth, Mavick kept a sort of position, and did not immediately + feel the pinch of vulgar poverty. But the day came when all illusion + vanished, and it was a question of providing from day to day for the small + requirements of the house in Irving Place. + </p> + <p> + It was not a cheerful household; reproaches are hard to bear when physical + energy is wanting to resist them. Mavick had visibly aged during the year. + It was only in his office that he maintained anything of the spruce + appearance and 'sang froid' which had distinguished the diplomatist and + the young adventurer. At home he had fallen into the slovenliness that + marks a disappointed old age. Was Mrs. Mavick peevish and unreasonable? + Very likely. And had she not reason to be? Was she, as a woman, any more + likely to be reconciled to her fate when her mirror told her, with + pitiless reflection, that she was an old woman? + </p> + <p> + Philip waited. Under the circumstances would not both Philip and Evelyn + have been justified in disregarding the prohibition that forbade their + meeting or even writing to each other? It may be a nice question, but it + did not seem so to these two, who did not juggle with their consciences. + Philip had given his word. Evelyn would tolerate no concealments; she was + just that simple-minded in her filial notions. + </p> + <p> + The girl, however, had one comfort, and that was the knowledge of Philip + through Miss McDonald, whom she saw frequently, and to whom even Mrs. + Mavick was in a manner reconciled. She was often in the little house in + Irving Place. There was nothing in her manner to remind Mrs. Mavick that + she had done her a great wrong, and her cheerfulness and good sense made + her presence and talk a relief from the monotony of the defeated woman's + life. + </p> + <p> + It came about, therefore, that one day Philip made his way down into the + city to seek an interview with Mr. Mavick. He found him, after some + inquiry, in a barren little office, occupying one of the rented desks with + three or four habitues of the Street, one of them an old man like himself, + the others mere lads who did not intend to remain long in such cramped + quarters. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mavick arose when his visitor stood at his desk, buttoned up his + frock-coat, and extended his hand with a show of business cordiality, and + motioned him to a chair. Philip was greatly shocked at the change in Mr. + Mavick's appearance. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” he said, “for disturbing you in business hours.” + </p> + <p> + “No disturbance,” he answered, with something of the old cynical smile on + his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Long ago I called to see you on the errand I have now, but you were not + in town. It was, Mr. Mavick,” and Philip hesitated and looked down, “in + regard to your daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I did not hear of it.” + </p> + <p> + “No? Well, Mr. Mavick, I was pretty presumptuous, for I had no foothold in + the city, except a law clerkship.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember—Hunt, Sharp & Tweedle; why didn't you keep it?” + </p> + <p> + “I wasn't fitted for the law.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, literature? Does literature pay?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in itself, not for many,” and Philip forced a laugh. “But it led to a + situation in a first-rate publishing house—an apprenticeship that + has now given me a position that seems to be permanent, with prospects + beyond, and a very fair salary. It would not seem much to you, Mr. + Mavick,” and Philip tried to laugh again. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” replied Mr. Mavick. “If a fellow has any sort of salary + these times, I should advise him to hold on to it. By-the-way, Mr. + Burnett, Hunt's a Republican, isn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “He was,” replied Philip, “the last I knew.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you happen to know whether he knows Bilbrick, the present Collector?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bilbrick used to be a client of his.” + </p> + <p> + “Just so. I think I'll see Hunt. A salary isn't a bad thing for a—for + a man who has retired pretty much from business. But you were saying, Mr. + Burnett?” + </p> + <p> + “I was going to say, Mr. Mavick, that there was a little something more + than my salary that I can count on pretty regularly now from the + magazines, and I have had another story, a novel, accepted, and—you + won't think me vain—the publisher says it will go; if it doesn't + have a big sale he will—” + </p> + <p> + “Make it up to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly,” and Philip laughed; “he will be greatly mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it is a kind of lottery, like most things. The publishers have + to take risks. The only harm I wish them is that they were compelled to + read all the stuff they try to make us read. Ah, well. Mr. Burnett, I hope + you have made a hit. It is pretty much the same thing in our business. The + publisher bulls his own book and bears the other fellow's. Is it a New + York story?” + </p> + <p> + “Partly; things come to a focus here, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I could give you points. It's a devil of a place. I guess the novelists + are too near to see the romance of it. When I was in Rome I amused myself + by diving into the mediaeval records. Steel and poison were the weapons + then. We have a different method now, but it comes to the same thing, and + we say we are more civilized. I think our way is more devilishly dramatic + than the old brute fashion. Yes, I could give you points.” + </p> + <p> + “I should be greatly obliged,” said Philip, seeing the way to bring the + conversation back to its starting point; “your wide experience of life—if + you had leisure at home some time.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” replied Mavick, with more good-humor in his laugh than he had shown + before, “you needn't beat about the bush. Have you seen Evelyn?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not since that dinner at the Van Cortlandts'.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh! for myself, I should be pleased to see you any time, Mr. Burnett. + Mrs. Mavick hasn't felt like seeing anybody lately. But I'll see, I'll + see.” + </p> + <p> + The two men rose and shook hands, as men shake hands when they have an + understanding. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad you are doing well,” Mr. Mavick added; “your life is before you, + mine is behind me; that makes a heap of difference.” + </p> + <p> + Within a few days Philip received a note from Mrs. Mavick—not an + effusive note, not an explanatory note, not an apologetic note, simply a + note as if nothing unusual had happened—if Mr. Burnett had leisure, + would he drop in at five o'clock in Irving Place for a cup of tea? + </p> + <p> + Not one minute by his watch after the hour named, Philip rang the bell and + was shown into a little parlor at the front. There was only one person in + the room, a lady in exquisite toilet, who rose rather languidly to meet + him, exactly as if the visitor were accustomed to drop in to tea at that + hour. + </p> + <p> + Philip hesitated a moment near the door, embarrassed by a mortifying + recollection of his last interview with Mrs. Mavick, and in that moment he + saw her face. Heavens, what a change! And yet it was a smiling face. + </p> + <p> + There is a portrait of Carmen by a foreign artist, who was years ago the + temporary fashion in New York, painted the year after her second marriage + and her return from Rome, which excited much comment at the time. Philip + had seen it in more than one portrait exhibition. + </p> + <p> + Its technical excellence was considerable. The artist had evidently + intended to represent a woman piquant and fascinating, if not strictly + beautiful. Many persons said it was lovely. Other critics said that, + whether the artist intended it or not, he had revealed the real character + of the subject. There was something sinister in its beauty. One artist, + who was out of fashion as an idealist, said, of course privately, that the + more he looked at it the more hideous it became to him—like one of + Blake's objective portraits of a “soul”—the naked soul of an evil + woman showing through the mask of all her feminine fascinations—the + possible hell, so he put it, under a woman's charm. + </p> + <p> + It was this in the portrait that Philip saw in the face smiling a welcome—like + an old, sweetly smiling Lalage—from which had passed away youth and + the sustaining consciousness of wealth and of a place in the great world. + The smile was no longer sweet, though the words from the lips were + honeyed. + </p> + <p> + “It is very good of you to drop in in this way, Mr. Burnett,” she said, as + she gave him her hand. “It is very quiet down here.” + </p> + <p> + “It is to me the pleasantest part of the city.” + </p> + <p> + “You think so now. I thought so once,” and there was a note of sadness in + her voice. “But it isn't New York. It is a place for the people who are + left.” + </p> + <p> + “But it has associations.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. We pretend that it is more aristocratic. That means the + rents are lower. It is a place for youth to begin and for age to end. We + seem to go round in a circle. Mr. Mavick began in the service of the + government, now he has entered it again—ah, you did not know?—a + place in the Custom-House. He says it is easier to collect other people's + revenues than your own. Do you know, Mr. Burnett, I do not see much use in + collecting revenues anyway—so far as New York is concerned the + people get little good of them. Look out there at that cloud of dust in + the street.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mavick rambled on in the whimsical, cynical fashion of old ladies + when they cease to have any active responsibility in life and become + spectators of it. Their remaining enjoyment is the indulgence of frank + speech. + </p> + <p> + “But I thought,” Philip interrupted, “that this part of the town was + specially New York.” + </p> + <p> + “New York!” cried Carmen, with animation. “The New York of the newspapers, + of the country imagination; the New York as it is known in Paris is in + Wall Street and in the palaces up-town. Who are the kings of Wall Street, + and who build the palaces up-town? They say that there are no Athenians in + Athens, and no Romans in Rome. How many New-Yorkers are there in New York? + Do New-Yorkers control the capital, rule the politics, build the palaces, + direct the newspapers, furnish the entertainment, manufacture the + literature, set the pace in society? Even the socialists and mobocrats are + not native. Successive invaders, as in Rome, overrun and occupy the town. + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Burnett, I have left the existing New York. How queer it is to + think about it. My first husband was from New Hampshire. My second husband + was from Illinois. And there is your Murad Ault. The Lord knows where he + came from. + </p> + <p> + “Talk about the barbarians occupying Rome! Look at that Ault in a palace! + Who was that emperor—Caligula?—I am like the young lady from a + finishing-school who said she never could remember which came first in + history, Greece or Rome—who stabled his horses with stalls and + mangers of gold? The Aults stable themselves that way. Ah, me! Let me give + you a cup of tea. Even that is English.” + </p> + <p> + “It's an innocent pastime,” she continued, as Philip stirred his tea, in + perplexity as to how he should begin to say what he had to say—“you + won't object if I light a cigarette? One ought to retain at least one bad + habit to keep from spiritual pride. Tea is an excuse for this. I don't + think it a bad habit, though some people say that civilization is only + exchanging one bad habit for another. Everything changes.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think I have changed, Mrs. Mavick,” said Philip, with + earnestness. + </p> + <p> + “No? But you will. I have known lots of people who said they never would + change. They all did. No, you need not protest. I believe in you now, or I + should not be drinking tea with you. But you must be tired of an old + woman's gossip. Evelyn has gone out for a walk; she didn't know. I expect + her any minute. Ah, I think that is her ring. I will let her in. There is + nothing so hateful as a surprise.” + </p> + <p> + She turned and gave Philip her hand, and perhaps she was sincere—she + had a habit of being so when it suited her interests—when she said, + “There are no bygones, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + Philip waited, his heart beating a hundred to the minute. He heard + greetings and whisperings in the passage-way, and then—time seemed + to stand still—the door opened and Evelyn stood on the threshold, + radiant from her walk, her face flushed, the dainty little figure poised + in timid expectation, in maidenly hesitation, and then she stepped forward + to meet his advance, with welcome in her great eyes, and gave him her hand + in the old-fashioned frankness. + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad to see you.” + </p> + <p> + Philip murmured something in reply and they were seated. + </p> + <p> + That was all. It was so different from the meeting as Philip had a hundred + times imagined it. + </p> + <p> + “It has been very long,” said Philip, who was devouring the girl with his + eyes, “very long to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you had been very busy,” she replied, demurely. Her composure + was very irritating. + </p> + <p> + “If you thought about it at all, Miss Mavick.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not like you, Mr. Burnett,” Evelyn replied, looking up suddenly + with troubled eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mean that,” said Philip, moving uneasily in his chair, “I—so + many things have happened. You know a person can be busy and not happy.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that. I was not always happy,” said the girl, with the air of + making a confession. “But I liked to hear from time to time of the success + of my friends,” she added, ingenuously. And then, quite inconsequently, “I + suppose you have news from Rivervale?” + </p> + <p> + Yes, Philip heard often from Alice, and he told the news as well as he + could, and the talk drifted along—how strange it seemed!—about + things in which neither of them felt any interest at the moment. Was there + no way to break the barrier that the little brown girl had thrown around + herself? Were all women, then, alike in parrying and fencing? The talk + went on, friendly enough at last, about a thousand things. It might have + been any afternoon call on a dear friend. And at length Philip rose to go. + </p> + <p> + “I hope I may see you again, soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Evelyn, cheerfully. “I am sure father will be delighted + to see you. He enjoys so little now.” + </p> + <p> + He had taken both her hands to say good-by, and was looking hungrily into + her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I can't go so. Evelyn, you know, you must know, I love you.” + </p> + <p> + And before the girl comprehended him he had drawn her to him and pressed + his lips upon hers. + </p> + <p> + The girl started back as if stung, and looked at him with flashing eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What have you done, what have you done to me?” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes were clouded, and she put her hands to her face, trembling, and + then with a cry, as of a soul born into the world, threw herself upon him, + her arms around his neck—“Philip, Philip, my Philip!” + </p> + <p> + XXVII + </p> + <p> + Perhaps Philip's announcement of his good-fortune to Alice and to Celia + was not very coherent, but his meaning was plain. Perhaps he was conscious + that the tidings would not increase the cheerfulness of Celia's + single-handed struggle for the ideal life; at least, he would rather write + than tell her face to face. + </p> + <p> + However he put the matter to her, with what protestations of affectionate + friendship and trust he wrapped up the statement that he made as matter of + fact as possible, he could not conceal the ecstatic state of his mind. + </p> + <p> + Nothing like it certainly had happened to anybody in the world before. All + the dream of his boyhood, romantic and rose-colored, all the aspirations + of his manhood, for recognition, honor, a place in the life of his time, + were mere illusions compared to this wonderful crown of life—a + woman's love. Where did it come from into this miserable world, this + heavenly ray, this pure gift out of the divine beneficence, this spotless + flower in a humanity so astray, this sure prophecy of the final redemption + of the world? The immeasurable love of a good woman! And to him! Philip + felt humble in his exaltation, charitable in his selfish appropriation. He + wanted to write to Celia—but he did not—that he loved her more + than ever. But to Alice he could pour out his wealth of affection, + quickened to all the world by this great love, for he knew that her + happiness would be in his happiness. + </p> + <p> + The response from Alice was what he expected, tender, sweet, domestic, and + it was full of praise of Evelyn, of love for her. “Perhaps, dear Phil,” + she wrote, “I shall love her more than I do you. I almost think—did + I not remember what a bad boy you could be sometimes—that each one + of you is too good for the other. But, Phil, if you should ever come to + think that she is not too good for you, you will not be good enough for + her. I can't think she is perfect, any more than you are perfect—you + will find that she is just a woman—but there is nothing in all life + so precious as such a heart as hers. You will come here, of course, and at + once, whenever it is. You know that big, square, old-fashioned corner + chamber, with the high-poster. That is yours. Evelyn never saw it. The + morning and the evening sun shoot across it, and the front windows look on + the great green crown of Mount Peak. You know it. There is not such a + place in the world to hear the low and peaceful murmur of the river, all + night long, rushing, tumbling, crooning, I used to think when I was a + little girl and dreamed of things unseen, and still going on when the + birds begin to sing in the dawn. And with Evelyn! Dear Phil!” + </p> + <p> + It was in another strain, but not less full of real affection, that Celia + wrote: + </p> + <p> + “I am not going to congratulate you. You are long past the need of that. + But you know that I am happy in having you happy. You thought I never saw + anything? I wonder if men are as blind as they seem to be? And I had + fears. Do you know a man ought to build his own monument. If he goes into + a monument built for him, that is the end of him. Now you can work, and + you will. I am so glad she isn't an heiress any more. I guess there was a + curse on that fortune. But she has eluded it. I believe all you tell me + about her. Perhaps there are more such women in the world than you think. + Some day I shall know her, and soon. I do long to see her. Love her I feel + sure I shall. + </p> + <p> + “You ask about myself. I am the same, but things change. When I get my + medical diploma I shall decide what to do. My little property just + suffices, with economy, and I enjoy economy. I doubt if I do any general + practice for pay. There are so many young doctors that need the money for + practice more than I do. And perhaps taking it up as a living would make + me sort of hard and perfunctory. And there is so much to do in this great + New York among the unfortunate that a woman who knows medicine can do + better than any one else. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, me, I am happy in a way, or I expect to be. Everybody—it isn't + because I am a woman I say this—needs something to lean on now and + then. There isn't much to lean on in the college, nor in many of my + zealous and ambitious companions there. There is more faith in the poor + people down in the wards where I go. They are kind to each other, and most + of them, not all, believe in something. They, have that, at any rate, in + all their trials and poverty. Philip, don't despise the invisible. I have + got into the habit of going into a Catholic church down there, when I am + tired and discouraged, and getting the peace of it. It is a sort of open + door! You need not jump to the conclusion that I am 'going over.' Maybe I + am going back. I don't know. I have always you know, been looking for + something. + </p> + <p> + “I like to sit there in that dim quiet and think of things I can't think + of elsewhere. Do you think I am queer? Philip, all women are queer. They + haven't yet been explained. That is the reason why the novelists find it + next to impossible, with all the materials at hand, to make a good woman—that + is a woman. Do you know what it is to want what you don't want? Longing is + one thing and reason another. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I have depended too much on my reason. If you long to go to a + place where you will have peace, why should you let what you call your + reason stand in the way? Perhaps your reason is foolishness. You will + laugh a little at this, and say that I am tired. No. Only I am not so sure + of things as I used to be. Do you remember when we children used to sit + under that tree by the Deerfield, how confident I was that I understood + all about life, and my airs of superiority? + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know as much now. But there is one thing that has survived + and grown with the years, and that, Philip, is your dear friendship.” + </p> + <p> + What was it in this unassuming, but no doubt sufficiently conceited and + ambitious, young fellow that he should have the affection, the love, of + three such women? + </p> + <p> + Is affection as whimsically, as blindly distributed as wealth? It is the + experience of life that it is rare to keep either to the end, but as a man + is judged not so much by his ability to make money as to keep it, so it is + fair to estimate his qualities by his power to retain friendship. New York + is full of failures, bankrupts in fortune and bankrupts in affection, but + this melancholy aspect of the town is on the surface, and is not to be + considered in comparison with the great body of moderately contented, + moderately successful, and on the whole happy households. In this it is a + microcosm of the world. + </p> + <p> + To Evelyn and Philip, judging the world a good deal by each other, in + those months before their marriage, when surprising perfection and new + tenderness were daily developed, the gay and busy city seemed a sort of + paradise. + </p> + <p> + Mysterious things were going on in the weeks immediately preceding the + wedding. There was a conspiracy between Miss McDonald and Philip in the + furnishing and setting in order a tiny apartment on the Heights, + overlooking the city, the lordly Hudson, and its romantic hills. And when, + after the ceremony, on a radiant afternoon in early June, the wedded + lovers went to their new home, it was the housekeeper, the old governess, + who opened the door and took into her arms the child she had loved and + lost awhile. + </p> + <p> + This fragment of history leaves Philip Burnett on the threshold of his + career. Those who know him only by his books may have been interested in + his experiences, in the merciful interposition of disaster, before he came + into the great fortune of the love of Evelyn Mavick. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of That Fortune, by Charles Dudley Warner + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THAT FORTUNE *** + +***** This file should be named 3105-h.htm or 3105-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/0/3105/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.12.12.00*END* + + + + + +This etext was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + + + + + +That Fortune + +by Charles Dudley Warner + + + + +THAT FORTUNE + + +On a summer day, long gone among the summer days that come but to go, a +lad of twelve years was idly and recklessly swinging in the top of a tall +hickory, the advance picket of a mountain forest. The tree was on the +edge of a steep declivity of rocky pasture-land that fell rapidly down to +the stately chestnuts, to the orchard, to the cornfields in the narrow +valley, and the maples on the bank of the amber river, whose loud, +unceasing murmur came to the lad on his aerial perch like the voice of +some tradition of nature that he could not understand. + +He had climbed to the topmost branch of the lithe and tough tree in order +to take the full swing of this free creature in its sport with the +western wind. There was something exhilarating in this elemental battle +of the forces that urge and the forces that resist, and the harder the +wind blew, and the wider circles he took in the free air, the more +stirred the boy was in the spring of his life. Nature was taking him by +the hand, and it might be that in that moment ambition was born to +achieve for himself, to conquer. + +If you had asked him why he was there, he would very likely have said, +"To see the world." It was a world worth seeing. The prospect might be +limited to a dull eye, but not to this lad, who loved to climb this +height, in order to be with himself and indulge the dreams of youth. +Any pretense would suffice for taking this hour of freedom: to hunt for +the spicy checker-berries and the pungent sassafras; to aggravate the +woodchucks, who made their homes in mysterious passages in this gravelly +hillside; to get a nosegay of columbine for the girl who spelled against +him in school and was his gentle comrade morning and evening along the +river road where grew the sweet-flag and the snap-dragon and the barberry +bush; to make friends with the elegant gray squirrel and the lively red +squirrel and the comical chipmunk, who were not much afraid of this +unarmed naturalist. They may have recognized their kinship to him, +for he could climb like any squirrel, and not one of them could have +clung more securely to this bough where he was swinging, rejoicing in the +strength of his lithe, compact little body. When he shouted in pure +enjoyment of life, they chattered in reply, and eyed him with a primeval +curiosity that had no fear in it. This lad in short trousers, torn +shirt, and a frayed straw hat above his mobile and cheerful face, might +be only another sort of animal, a lover like themselves of the beech-nut +and the hickory-nut. + +It was a gay world up here among the tossing branches. Across the river, +on the first terrace of the hill, were weather-beaten farmhouses, amid +apple orchards and cornfields. Above these rose the wooded dome of Mount +Peak, a thousand feet above the river, and beyond that to the left the +road wound up, through the scriptural land of Bozrah, to high and +lonesome towns on a plateau stretching to unknown regions in the south. +There was no bar to the imagination in that direction. What a gracious +valley, what graceful slopes, what a mass of color bathing this lovely +summer landscape! Down from the west, through hills that crowded on +either side to divert it from its course, ran the sparkling Deerfield, +from among the springs and trout streams of the Hoosac, merrily going on +to the great Connecticut. Along the stream was the ancient highway, or +lowway, where in days before the railway came the stage-coach and the big +transport-wagons used to sway and rattle along on their adventurous +voyage from the gate of the Sea at Boston to the gate of the West at +Albany. + +Below, where the river spread wide among the rocks in shallows, or eddies +in deep, dark pools, was the ancient, long, covered, wooden bridge, +striding diagonally from rock to rock on stone columns, a dusky tunnel +through the air, a passage of gloom flecked with glints of sunlight, that +struggled in crosscurrents through the interstices of the boards, and set +dancing the motes and the dust in a golden haze, a stuffy passage with +odors a century old--who does not know the pungent smell of an old +bridge?--a structure that groaned in all its big timbers when a wagon +invaded it. And then below the bridge the lad could see the historic +meadow, which was a cornfield in the eighteenth century, where Captain +Moses Rice and Phineas Arms came suddenly one summer day to the end of +their planting and hoeing. The house at the foot of the hill where the +boy was cultivating his imagination had been built by Captain Rice, and +in the family burying-ground in the orchard above it lay the body of this +mighty militia-man, and beside him that of Phineas Arms, and on the +headstone of each the legend familiar at that period of our national +life, "Killed by the Indians." Happy Phineas Arms, at the age of +seventeen to exchange in a moment the tedium of the cornfield for +immortality. + +There was a tradition that years after, when the Indians had disappeared +through a gradual process of intoxication and pauperism, a red man had +been seen skulking along the brow of this very hill and peering down +through the bushes where the boy was now perched on a tree, shaking his +fist at the hated civilization, and vengefully, some said pathetically, +looking down into this valley where his race had been so happy in the +natural pursuits of fishing, hunting, and war. On the opposite side of +the river was still to be traced an Indian trail, running to the western +mountains, which the boy intended some time to follow; for this highway +of warlike forays, of messengers of defiance, along which white maidens +had been led captive to Canada, appealed greatly to his imagination. + +The boy lived in these traditions quite as much as in those of the +Revolutionary War into which they invariably glided in his perspective of +history, the redskins and the redcoats being both enemies of his +ancestors. There was the grave of the envied Phineas Arms--that ancient +boy not much older than he--and there were hanging in the kitchen the +musket and powder-horn that his great-grandfather had carried at Bunker +Hill, and did he not know by heart the story of his great-grandmother, +who used to tell his father that she heard when she was a slip of a girl +in Plymouth the cannonading on that awful day when Gage met his +victorious defeat? + +In fact, according to his history-book there had been little but wars in +this peaceful nation: the War of 1812, the Mexican War, the incessant +frontier wars with the Indians, the Kansas War, the Mormon War, the War +for the Union. The echoes of the latter had not yet died away. What a +career he might have had if he had not been born so late in the world! +Swinging in this tree-top, with a vivid consciousness of life, of his own +capacity for action, it seemed a pity that he could not follow the drum +and the flag into such contests as he read about so eagerly. + +And yet this was only a corner of the boy's imagination. He had many +worlds and he lived in each by turn. There was the world of the Old +Testament, of David and Samson, and of those dim figures in the dawn of +history, called the Patriarchs. There was the world of Julius Caesar and +the Latin grammar, though this was scarcely as real to him as the Old +Testament, which was brought to his notice every Sunday as a necessity of +his life, while Caesar and AEneas and the fourth declension were made to +be a task, for some mysterious reason, a part of his education. He had +not been told that they were really a part of the other world which +occupied his mind so much of the time, the world of the Arabian Nights +and Robinson Crusoe, and Coleridge and Shelley and Longfellow, and +Washington Irving and Scott and Thackeray, and Pope's Iliad and +Plutarch's Lives. That this was a living world to the boy was scarcely +his fault, for it must be confessed that those were very antiquated book- +shelves in the old farmhouse to which he had access, and the news had not +been apprehended in this remote valley that the classics of literature +were all as good as dead and buried, and that the human mind had not +really created anything worth modern notice before about the middle of +the nineteenth century. It was not exactly an ignorant valley, for the +daily newspapers were there, and the monthly magazine, and the fashion- +plate of Paris, and the illuminating sunshine of new science, and enough +of the uneasy throb of modern life. Yet somehow the books that were +still books had not been sent to the garret, to make room for the +illustrated papers and the profound physiological studies of sin and +suffering that were produced by touching a scientific button. No, the +boy was conscious in a way of the mighty pulsation of American life, and +he had also a dim notion that his dreams in his various worlds would come +to a brilliant fulfillment when he was big enough to go out and win a +name and fame. But somehow the old books, and the family life, and the +sedate ways of the community he knew, had given him a fundamental and not +unarmed faith in the things that were and had been. + +Every Sunday the preacher denounced the glitter and frivolity and +corruption of what he called Society, until the boy longed to see this +splendid panorama of cities and hasting populations, the seekers of +pleasure and money and fame, this gay world which was as fascinating as +it was wicked. The preacher said the world was wicked and vain. It did +not seem so to the boy this summer day, not at least the world he knew. +Of course the boy had no experience. He had never heard of Juvenal nor +of Max Nordau. He had no philosophy of life. He did not even know that +when he became very old the world would seem to him good or bad according +to the degree in which he had become a good or a bad man. + +In fact, he was not thinking much about being good or being bad, but of +trying his powers in a world which seemed to offer to him infinite +opportunities. His name--Philip Burnett--with which the world, at least +the American world, is now tolerably familiar, and which he liked to +write with ornamental flourishes on the fly-leaves of his schoolbooks, +did not mean much to him, for he had never seen it in print, nor been +confronted with it as something apart from himself. But the Philip that +he was he felt sure would do something in the world. What that something +should be varied from day to day according to the book, the poem, the +history or biography that he was last reading. It would not be difficult +to write a poem like "Thanatopsis" if he took time enough, building up a +line a day. And yet it would be better to be a soldier, a man who could +use the sword as well as the pen, a poet in uniform. This was a pleasing +imagination. Surely his aunt and his cousins in the farmhouse would have +more respect for him if he wore a uniform, and treat him with more +consideration, and perhaps they would be very anxious about him when he +was away in battles, and very proud of him when he came home between +battles, and went quite modestly with the family into the village church, +and felt rather than saw the slight flutter in the pews as he walked down +the aisle, and knew that the young ladies, the girl comrades of the +district school, were watching him from the organ gallery, curious to see +Phil, who had gone into the army. Perhaps the preacher would have a +sermon against war, and the preacher should see how soldierlike he would +take this attack on him. Alas! is such vanity at the bottom of even a +reasonable ambition? Perhaps his town would be proud of him if he were a +lawyer, a Representative in Congress, come back to deliver the annual +oration at the Agricultural Fair. He could see the audience of familiar +faces, and hear the applause at his witty satires and his praise of the +nobility of the farmer's life, and it would be sweet indeed to have the +country people grasp him by the hand and call him Phil, just as they used +to before he was famous. What he would say, he was not thinking of, but +the position he would occupy before the audience. There were no +misgivings in any of these dreams of youth. + + + + +II + +The musings of this dreamer in a tree-top were interrupted by the +peremptory notes of a tin horn from the farmhouse below. The boy +recognized this not only as a signal of declining day and the withdrawal +of the sun behind the mountains, but as a personal and urgent +notification to him that a certain amount of disenchanting drudgery +called chores lay between him and supper and the lamp-illumined pages of +The Last of the Mohicans. It was difficult, even in his own estimation, +to continue to be a hero at the summons of a tin horn--a silver clarion +and castle walls would have been so different--and Phil slid swiftly down +from his perch, envying the squirrels who were under no such bondage of +duty. + +Recalled to the world that now is, the lad hastily gathered a bouquet of +columbine and a bunch of the tender leaves and the red berries of the +wintergreen, called to "Turk," who had been all these hours watching a +woodchuck hole, and ran down the hill by leaps and circuits as fast as +his little legs could carry him, and, with every appearance of a lad who +puts duty before pleasure, arrived breathless at the kitchen door, where +Alice stood waiting for him. Alice, the somewhat feeble performer on the +horn, who had been watching for the boy with her hand shading her eyes, +called out upon his approach: + +"Why, Phil, what in the world--" + +"Oh, Alice!" cried the boy, eagerly, having in a moment changed in his +mind the destination of the flowers; "I've found a place where the +checker-berries are thick as spatter." And Phil put the flowers and the +berries in his cousin's hand. Alice looked very much pleased with this +simple tribute, but, as she admired it, unfortunately asked--women always +ask such questions: + +"And you picked them for me?" + +This was a cruel dilemma. Phil was more devoted to his sweet cousin than +to any one else in the world, and he didn't want to hurt her feelings, +and he hated to tell a lie. So he only looked a lie, out of his +affectionate, truthful eyes, and said: + +"I love to bring you flowers. Has uncle come home yet?" + +"Yes, long ago. He called and looked all around for you to unharness the +horse, and he wanted you to go an errand over the river to Gibson's. +I guess he was put out." + +"Did he say anything?" + +"He asked if you had weeded the beets. And he said that you were the +master boy to dream and moon around he ever saw." And she added, with a +confidential and mischievous smile: "I think you'd better brought a +switch along; it would save time." + +Phil had a great respect for his uncle Maitland, but he feared him almost +more than he feared the remote God of Abraham and Isaac. Mr. Maitland +was not only the most prosperous man in all that region, but the man of +the finest appearance, and a bearing that was equity itself. He was the +first selectman of the town, and a deacon in the church, and however much +he prized mercy in the next world he did not intend to have that quality +interfere with justice in this world. Phil knew indeed that he was a man +of God, that fact was impressed upon him at least twice a day, but he +sometimes used to think it must be a severe God to have that sort of man. +And he didn't like the curt way he pronounced the holy name--he might as +well have called Job "job." + +Alice was as unlike her father, except in certain race qualities of +integrity and common-sense, as if she were of different blood. She was +the youngest of five maiden sisters, and had arrived at the mature age of +eighteen. Slender in figure, with a grace that was half shyness, soft +brown hair, gray eyes that changed color and could as easily be sad as +merry, a face marked with a moving dimple that every one said was lovely, +retiring in manner and yet not lacking spirit nor a sly wit of her own. +Now and then, yes, very often, out of some paradise, no doubt, strays +into New England conditions of reticence and self-denial such a sweet +spirit, to diffuse a breath of heaven in its atmosphere, and to wither +like a rose ungathered. These are the New England nuns, not taking any +vows, not self-consciously virtuous, apparently untouched by the vanities +of the world. Marriage? It is not in any girl's nature not to think of +that, not to be in a flutter of pleasure or apprehension at the +attentions of the other sex. Who has been able truly to read the +thoughts of a shrinking maiden in the passing days of her youth and +beauty? In this harmonious and unselfish household, each with decided +individual character, no one ever intruded upon the inner life of the +other. No confidences were given in the deep matters of the heart, no +sign except a blush over a sly allusion to some one who had been +"attentive." If you had stolen a look into the workbasket or the secret +bureau-drawer, you might have found a treasured note, a bit of ribbon, a +rosebud, some token of tenderness or of friendship that was growing old +with the priestess who cherished it. Did they not love flowers, and +pets, and had they not a passion for children? Were there not moonlight +evenings when they sat silent and musing on the stone steps, watching the +shadows and the dancing gleams on the swift river, when the air was +fragrant with the pink and the lilac? Not melancholy this, nor +poignantly sad, but having in it nevertheless something of the pathos of +life unfulfilled. And was there not sometimes, not yet habitually, +coming upon these faces, faces plain and faces attractive, the shade of +renunciation? + +Phil loved Alice devotedly. She was his confidante, his defender, but he +feared more the disapproval of her sweet eyes when he had done wrong than +the threatened punishment of his uncle. + +"I only meant to be gone just a little while," Phil went on to say. + +"And you were away the whole afternoon. It is a pity the days are so +short. And you don't know what you lost." + +"No great, I guess." + +"Celia and her mother were here. They stayed all the afternoon." + +"Celia Howard? Did she wonder where I was?" + +"I don't know. She didn't say anything about it. What a dear little +thing she is!" + +"And she can say pretty cutting things." + +"Oh, can she? Perhaps you'd better run down to the village before dark +and take her these flowers." + +"I'm not going. I'd rather you should have the flowers." And Phil spoke +the truth this time. + +Celia, who was altogether too young to occupy seriously the mind of a lad +of twelve, had nevertheless gained an ascendancy over him because of her +willful, perverse, and sometimes scornful ways, and because she was +different from the other girls of the school. She had read many more +books than Phil, for she had access to a library, and she could tell him +much of a world that he only heard of through books and newspapers, which +latter he had no habit of reading. He liked, therefore, to be with +Celia, not withstanding her little airs of superiority, and if she +patronized him, as she certainly did, probably the simple-minded young +gentleman, who was unconsciously bred in the belief that he and his own +kin had no superiors anywhere, never noticed it. To be sure they +quarreled a good deal, but truth to say Phil was never more fascinated +with the little witch, whom he felt himself strong enough to protect, +than when she showed a pretty temper. He rather liked to be ordered +about by the little tyrant. And sometimes he wished that Murad Ault, the +big boy of the school, would be rude to the small damsel, so that he +could show her how a knight would act under such circumstances. Murad +Ault stood to Phil for the satanic element in his peaceful world. He was +not only big and strong of limb and broad of chest, but he was very +swarthy, and had closely curled black hair. He feared nothing, not even +the teacher, and was always doing some dare-devil thing to frighten the +children. And because he was dark, morose, and made no friends, and +wished none, but went solitary his own dark way, Phil fancied that he +must have Spanish blood in his veins, and would no doubt grow up to be a +pirate. No other boy in the winter could skate like Murad Ault, with +such strength and grace and recklessness--thin ice and thick ice were all +one to him, but he skated along, dashing in and out, and sweeping away up +and down the river in a whirl of vigor and daring, like a black marauder. +Yet he was best and most awesome in the swimming pond in summer--though +it was believed that he dared go in in the bitter winter, either by +breaking the ice or through an air-hole, and there was a story that he +had ventured under the ice as fearless as a cold fish. No one could dive +from such a height as he, or stay so long under water; he liked to stay +under long enough to scare the spectators, and then appear at a distance, +thrashing about in the water as if he were rescuing himself from +drowning, sputtering out at the same time the most diabolical noises-- +curses, no doubt, for he had been heard to swear. But as he skated alone +he swam alone, appearing and disappearing at the swimming-place silently, +with never a salutation to any one. And he was as skillful a fisher as +he was a swimmer. No one knew much about him. He lived with his mother +in a little cabin up among the hills, that had about it scant patches of +potatoes and corn and beans, a garden fenced in by stumproots, as ill- +cared for as the shanty. Where they came from no one knew. How they +lived was a matter of conjecture, though the mother gathered herbs and +berries and bartered them at the village store, and Murad occasionally +took a hand in some neighbor's hay-field, or got a job of chopping wood +in the winter. The mother was old and small and withered, and they said +evil-eyed. Probably she was no more evil-eyed than any old woman who had +such a hard struggle for existence as she had. An old widow with an only +son who looked like a Spaniard and acted like an imp! Here was another +sort of exotic in the New England life. + +Celia had been brought to Rivervale by her mother about a year before +this time, and the two occupied a neat little cottage in the village, +distinguished only by its neatness and a plot of syringas, and pinks, and +marigolds, and roses, and bachelor's-buttons, and boxes of the tough +little exotics, called "hen-and-chickens," in the door-yard, and a +vigorous fragrant honeysuckle over the front porch. She only dimly +remembered her father, who had been a merchant in a small way in the +city, and dying left to his widow and only child a very moderate fortune. +The girl showed early an active and ingenious mind, and an equal love for +books and for having her own way; but she was delicate, and Mrs. Howard +wisely judged that a few years in a country village would improve her +health and broaden her view of life beyond that of cockney provincialism. +For, though Mrs. Howard had more refinement than strength of mind, and +passed generally for a sweet and inoffensive little woman, she did not +lack a certain true perception of values, due doubtless to the fact that +she had been a New England girl, and, before her marriage and emigration +to the great city, had passed her life among unexciting realities, and +among people who had leisure to think out things in a slow way. But the +girl's energy and self-confidence had no doubt been acquired from her +father, who was cut off in mid-career of his struggle for place in the +metropolis, or from some remote ancestor. Before she was eleven years +old her mother had listened with some wonder and more apprehension to the +eager forecast of what this child intended to do when she became a woman, +and already shrank from a vision of Celia on a public platform, or the +leader of some metempsychosis club. Through her affections only was the +child manageable, but in opposition to her spirit her mother was +practically powerless. Indeed, this little sprout of the New Age always +spoke of her to Philip and to the Maitlands as "little mother." + +The epithet seemed peculiarly tender to Philip, who had lost his father +before he was six years old, and he was more attracted to the timid and +gentle little widow than to his equable but more robust Aunt Eusebia, +Mrs. Maitland, his father's elder sister, whom Philip fancied not a bit +like his father except in sincerity, a quality common to the Maitlands +and Burnetts. Yet there was a family likeness between his aunt and a +portrait of his father, painted by a Boston artist of some celebrity, +which his mother, who survived her husband only three years, had saved +for her boy. His father was a farmer, but a man of considerable +cultivation, though not college-bred--his last request on his death-bed +was that Phil should be sent to college--a man who made experiments in +improving agriculture and the breed of cattle and horses, read papers now +and then on topics of social and political reform, and was the only +farmer in all the hill towns who had what might be called a library. + +It was all scattered at the time of the winding up of the farm estate, +and the only jetsam that Philip inherited out of it was an annotated copy +of Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations, Young's Travels in France, a copy of +The Newcomes, and the first American edition of Childe Harold. Probably +these odd volumes had not been considered worth any considerable bid at +the auction. From his mother, who was fond of books, and had on more +than one occasion, of the failure of teachers, taught in the village +school in her native town before her marriage, Philip inherited his love +of poetry, and he well remembered how she used to try to inspire him with +patriotism by reading the orations of Daniel Webster (she was very fond +of orations), and telling him war stories about Grant and Sherman and +Sheridan and Farragut and Lincoln. He distinctly remembered also +standing at her knees and trying, at intervals, to commit to memory the +Rime of the Ancient Mariner. He had learned it all since, because he +thought it would please his mother, and because there was something in it +that appealed to his coming sense of the mystery of life. When he +repeated it to Celia, who had never heard of it, and remarked that it was +all made up, and that she never tried to learn a long thing like that +that wasn't so, Philip could see that her respect for him increased a +little. He did not know that the child got it out of the library the +next day and never rested till she knew it by heart. Philip could repeat +also the books of the Bible in order, just as glibly as the +multiplication-table, and the little minx, who could not brook that a +country boy should be superior to her in anything, had surprised her +mother by rattling them all off to her one Sunday evening, just as if she +had been born in New England instead of in New York. As to the other +fine things his mother read him, out of Ruskin and the like; Philip +chiefly remembered what a pretty glow there was in his mother's face when +she read them, and that recollection was a valuable part of the boy's +education. + +Another valuable part of his education was the gracious influence in his +aunt's household, the spirit of candor, of affection, and the sane +common-sense with which life was regarded, the simplicity of its faith +and the patience with which trials were borne. The lessons he learned in +it had more practical influence in his life than all the books he read. +Nor were his opportunities for the study of character so meagre as the +limit of one family would imply. As often happens in New England +households, individualities were very marked, and from his stern uncle +and his placid aunt down to the sweet and nimble-witted Alice, the family +had developed traits and even eccentricities enough to make it a sort of +microcosm of life. There, for instance, was Patience, the maiden aunt, +his father's sister, the news-monger of the fireside, whose powers of +ratiocination first gave Philip the Greek idea and method of reasoning to +a point and arriving at truth by the process of exclusion. It did not +excite his wonder at the time, but afterwards it appeared to him as one +of the New England eccentricities of which the novelists make so much. +Patience was a home-keeping body and rarely left the premises except to +go to church on Sunday, although her cheerfulness and social helpfulness +were tinged by nothing morbid. The story was--Philip learned it long +afterwards--that in her very young and frisky days Patience had one +evening remained out at some merry-making very late, and in fact had been +escorted home in the moonlight by a young gentleman when the tall, awful- +faced clock, whose face her mother was watching, was on the dreadful +stroke of eleven. For this delinquency her mother had reproved her, the +girl thought unreasonably, and she had quickly replied, "Mother, I will +never go out again." And she never did. It was in fact a renunciation +of the world, made apparently without rage, and adhered to with cheerful +obstinacy. + +But although for many years Patience rarely left her home, until the +habit of seclusion had become as fixed as that of a nun who had taken the +vows, no one knew so well as she the news and gossip of the neighborhood, +and her power of learning or divining it seemed to increase with her +years. She had a habit of sitting, when her household duties permitted, +at a front window, which commanded a long view of the river road, and +gathering the news by a process peculiar to herself. From this peep-hole +she studied the character and destination of all the passers-by that came +within range of her vision, and made her comments and deductions, partly +to herself, but for the benefit of those who might be listening. + +"Why, there goes Thomas Henry," she would say (she always called people +by their first and middle names). "Now, wherever can he be going this +morning in the very midst of getting in his hay? He can't be going to +the Browns' for vegetables, for they set great store by their own raising +this year; and they don't get their provisions up this way either, +because Mary Ellen quarreled with Simmons's people last year. No! "she +would exclaim, rising to a climax of certainty on this point, "I'll be +bound he is not going after anything in the eating line!" + +Meantime Thomas Henry's wagon would be disappearing slowly up the sandy +road, giving Patience a chance to get all she could out of it, by +eliminating all the errands Thomas Henry could not possibly be going to +do in order to arrive at the one he must certainly be bound on. + +"They do say he's courting Eliza Merritt," she continued, "but Eliza +never was a girl to make any man leave his haying. No, he's never going +to see Eliza, and if it isn't provisions or love it's nothing short of +sickness. Now, whoever is sick down there? It can't be Mary Ellen, +because she takes after her father's family and they are all hearty. It +must be Mary Ellen's little girls, and the measles are going the rounds. +It must be they've all got the measles." + +If the listeners suggested that possibly one of the little girls might +have escaped, the suggestion was decisively put aside. + +"No; if one of them had been well, Mary Ellen would have sent her for the +doctor." + +Presently Thomas Henry's cart was heard rumbling back, and sure enough he +was returning with the doctor, and Patience hailed him from the gate and +demanded news of Mary Ellen. + +"Why, all her little girls have the measles," replied Thomas Henry, "and +I had to leave my haying to fetch the doctor." + +"I want to know," said Patience. + +Being the eldest born, Patience had appropriated to herself two rooms in +the rambling old farmhouse before her brother's marriage, from which +later comers had never dislodged her, and with that innate respect for +the rights and peculiarities of others which was common in the household, +she was left to express her secluded life in her own way. As the habit +of retirement grew upon her she created a world of her own, almost as +curious and more individually striking than the museum of Cluny. There +was not a square foot in her tiny apartment that did not exhibit her +handiwork. She was very fond of reading, and had a passion for the +little prints and engravings of "foreign views," which she wove into her +realm of natural history. There was no flower or leaf or fruit that she +had seen that she could not imitate exactly in wax or paper. All over +the walls hung the little prints and engravings, framed in wreaths of +moss and artificial flowers, or in elaborate square frames made of +pasteboard. The pasteboard was cut out to fit the picture, and the +margins, daubed with paste, were then strewn with seeds of corn and +acorns and hazelnuts, and then the whole was gilded so that the effect +was almost as rich as it was novel. All about the rooms, in nooks and on +tables, stood baskets and dishes of fruit-apples and plums and peaches +and grapes-set in proper foliage of most natural appearance, like enough +to deceive a bird or the Sunday-school scholars, when on rare occasions +they were admitted into this holy of holies. Out of boxes, apparently +filled with earth in the corners of the rooms, grew what seemed to be +vines trained to run all about the cornices and to festoon the pictures, +but which were really strings, colored in imitation of the real vine, and +spreading out into paper foliage. To complete the naturalistic character +of these everlasting vines, which no scale-bugs could assail, there were +bunches of wonderful grapes depending here and there to excite the +cupidity of both bird and child. There was no cruelty in the nature of +Patience, and she made prisoners of neither birds nor squirrels, but +cunning cages here and there held most lifelike counterfeits of their +willing captives. There was nothing in the room that was alive, except +the dainty owner, but it seemed to be a museum of natural history. The +rugs on the floor were of her own devising and sewing together, and +rivaled in color and ingenuity those of Bokhara. + +But Patience was a student of the heavens as well as of the earth, and it +was upon the ceiling that her imagination expanded. There one could see +in their order the constellations of the heavens, represented by paper- +gilt stars, of all magnitudes, most wonderful to behold. This part of +her decorations was the most difficult of all. The constellations were +not made from any geography of the heavens, but from actual nightly +observation of the positions of the heavenly bodies. Patience confessed +that the getting exactly right of the Great Dipper had caused her most +trouble. On the night that was constructed she sat up till three o'clock +in the morning, going out and studying it and coming in and putting up +one star at a time. How could she reach the high ceiling? Oh, she took +a bean-pole, stuck the gilt star on the end of it, having paste on the +reverse side, and fixed it in its place. That was easy, only it was +difficult to remember when she came into the house the correct positions +of the stars in the heavens. What the astronomer and the botanist and +the naturalist would have said of this little kingdom is unknown, but +Patience herself lived among the glories of the heavens and the beauties +of the earth which she had created. Probably she may have had a humorous +conception of this, for she was not lacking in a sense of humor. The +stone step that led to her private door she had skillfully painted with +faint brown spots, so that when visitors made their exit from this part +of the house they would say, "Why, it rains!" but Patience would laugh +and say, "I guess it is over by now." + + + + +III + +I'm not going to follow you about any more I through the brush and +brambles, Phil Burnett," and Celia, emerging from the thicket into a +clearing, flung herself down on a knoll under a beech-tree. + +Celia was cross. They were out for a Saturday holiday on the hillside, +where Phil said there were oceans of raspberries and blueberries, +beginning to get ripe, and where you could hear the partridges drumming +in the woods, and see the squirrels. + +"Why, I'm not a bit tired," said Phil; "a boy wouldn't be." And he threw +himself down on the green moss, with his heels in the air, much more +intent on the chatter of a gray squirrel in the tree above him than on +the complaints of his comrade. + +"Why don't you go with a boy, then?" asked Celia, in a tone intended to +be severe and dignified. + +"A boy isn't so nice," said Philip, with the air of stating a general +proposition, but not looking at her. + + +"Oh," said Celia, only half appeased, "I quite agree with you." And she +pulled down some beech leaves from a low, hanging limb and began to plait +a wreath. + +"Who are you making that for?" asked Philip, who began to be aware that a +cloud had come over his holiday sky. + +"Nobody in particular; it's just a wreath." And then there was silence, +till Philip made another attempt. + +"Celia, I don't mind staying here if you are tired. Tell me something +about New York City. I wish we were there." + +"Much you know about it," said Celia, but with some relaxation of her +severity, for as she looked at the boy in his country clothes and glanced +at her own old frock and abraded shoes, she thought what a funny +appearance the pair would make on a fashionable city street. + +"Would you rather be there?" asked Philip. "I thought you liked living +here." + +"Would I rather? What a question! Everybody would. The country is +a good place to go to when you are tired, as mamma is. But the city! The +big fine houses, and the people all going about in a hurry; the streets +all lighted up at night, so that you can see miles and miles of lights; +and the horses and carriages, and the lovely dresses, and the churches +full of nice people, and such beautiful music! And once mamma took me to +the theatre. Oh, Phil, you ought to see a play, and the actors, all be- +a-u-ti-fully dressed, and talking just like a party in a house, and +dancing, and being funny, and some of it so sad as to make you cry, and +some of it so droll that you had to laugh--just such a world as you read +of in books and in poetry. I was so excited that I saw the stage all +night and could hardly sleep." The girl paused and looked away to the +river as if she saw it all again, and then added in a burst of +confidence: +"Do you know, I mean to be an actress some day, when mamma will let me." + +"Play-actors are wicked," said Phil, in a tone of decision; "our minister +says so, and my uncle says so." + +"Fudge!" returned Celia. "Much they know about it. Did Alice say so?" + +"I never asked her, but she said once that she supposed it was wrong, but +she would like to see a play." + +"There, everybody would. Mamma says the people from the country go to +the theatre always, a good deal more than the people in the city go. I +should like to see your aunt Patience in a theatre and hear what she said +about it. She's an actress if ever there was one." + +Philip opened his eyes in protest. + +"Mamma says it is as good as a play to hear her go on about people, and +what they are like, and what they are going to do, and then her little +rooms are just like a scene on a stage. If they were in New York +everybody would go to see them and to hear her talk." + +This was such a new view of his home life to Philip that he could neither +combat it nor assent to it, further than to say, that his aunt was just +like everybody else, though she did have some peculiar ways. + +"Well, she acts," Celia insisted, "and most people act. Our minister +acts all the time, mamma says." Celia had plenty of opinions of her own, +but when she ventured a startling statement she had the habit of going +under the shelter of "little mother," whose casual and unconsidered +remarks the girl turned to her own uses. Perhaps she would not have +understood that her mother merely meant that the minister's sacerdotal +character was not exactly his own character. Just as Philip noticed +without being able to explain it that his uncle was one sort of a man in +his religious exercises and observances and another sort of man in his +dealings with him. Children often have recondite thoughts that do not +get expression until their minds are more mature; they even accept +contradictory facts in their experience. There was one of the deacons +who was as kind as possible, and Philip believed was a good and pious +man, who had the reputation of being sharp and even tricky in a horse- +trade. And Philip used to think how lucky it was for him that he had +been converted and was saved! + +"Are you going to stay here always?" asked Philip, pursuing his own train +of thought about the city. + +"Here? I should think not. If I were a boy I wouldn't stay here, +I can tell you. What are you going to do, Phil, what are you going to +be?" + +"Oh, I don't know," said Philip, turning over on his back and looking up +into the blue world through the leaves; "go to college, I suppose." +Children are even more reticent than adults about revealing their inner +lives, and Philip would not, even to Celia, have confessed the splendid +dreams about his career that came to him that day in the hickory-tree, +and that occupied him a great deal. + +"Of course," said this wise child, "but that's nothing. I mean, what are +you going to do? My cousin Jim has been all through college, and he +doesn't do a thing except wear nice clothes and hang around and talk. +He says I'm a little chatter-box. I hate the sight of him." + +"If he doesn't like you, then I don't like him," said Philip, as if he +were making a general and not a personal assertion. "Oh, I should like +to travel." + +"So should I, and see things and find things. Jim says he's going to be +an explorer. He never will. He wouldn't find anything. He twits me, +and wants to know what is the good of my reading about Africa and such +things. Phil, don't you love to read about Africa, and the desert, and +the lions and the snakes, and bananas growing, and palm-trees, and the +queerest black men and women, real dwarfs some of them? I just love it." + +"So do I," said Philip, "as far as I have read. Alice says it's awful +dangerous--fevers and wild beasts and savages and all that. But I +shouldn't mind." + +"Of course you wouldn't. But it costs like everything to go to Africa, +or anywhere." + +"I'd make a book about it, and give lectures, and make lots of money." + +"I guess," said Celia, reflecting upon this proposition, "I'd be an +engineer or a railroad man, or something like that, and make a heap of +money, and then I could go anywhere I liked. I just hate to be poor. +There!" + +"Is Jim poor?" + +"No; he can do what he pleases. I asked him, then, why he didn't go to +Africa, and he wanted to know what was the good of finding Livingstone, +anyway. I'll bet Murad Ault would go to Africa." + +"I wish he would," said Philip; and then, having moved so that he could +see Celia's face, "Do you like Murad Ault?" + +"No," replied Celia, promptly; "he's horrid, but he isn't afraid of +anything." + +"Well, I don't care," said Philip, who was nettled by this implication. +And Celia, who had shown her power of irritating, took another tack. + +"You don't think I'd be seen going around with him? Aren't we having a +good time up here?" + +"Bully!" replied Philip. And not seeing the way to expand this topic +any further, he suddenly said: + +"Celia, the next time I go on our hill I'll get you lots of sassafras." + +"Oh, I love sassafras, and sweet-flag!" + +"We can get that on the way home. I know a place." And then there was a +pause. "Celia, you didn't tell me what you are going to do when you grow +up." + +"Go to college." + +"You? Why, girls do, don't they? I never thought of that." + +"Of course they do. I don't know whether I'll write or be a doctor. I +know one thing--I won't teach school. It's the hatefulest thing there +is! It's nice to be a doctor and have your own horse, and go round like +a man. If it wasn't for seeing so many sick people! +I guess I'll write stories and things." + +"So would I," Philip confessed, "if I knew any." + +"Why, you make 'em up. Mamma says they are all made up. I can make 'em +in my head any time when I'm alone." + +"I don't know," Philip said, reflectively, "but I could make up a story +about Murad Ault, and how he got to be a pirate and got in jail and was +hanged." + +"Oh, that wouldn't be a real story. You have got to have different +people in it, and have 'em talk, just as they do in books; and somebody +is in love and somebody dies, and the like of that." + +"Well, there are such stories in The Pirate's Own Book, and it's awful +interesting." + +"I'd be ashamed, Philip Burnett, to read such a cruel thing, all about +robbers and murders." + +"I didn't read it through; Alice said she was going to burn it up. I +shouldn't wonder if she did." + +"Boys make me tired!" exclaimed this little piece of presumption; and +this attitude of superiority exasperated Philip more than anything else +his mentor had said or done, and he asserted his years of seniority by +jumping up and saying, decidedly, "It's time to go home. Shall I carry +your wreath?" + +"No, I thank you!" replied Celia, with frigid politeness. + +"Down in the meadow," said Philip, making one more effort at +conciliation, "we can get some tigerlilies, and weave them in and make a +beautiful wreath for your mother." + +"She doesn't like things fussed up," was the gracious reply. And then +the children trudged along homeward, each with a distinct sense of +injury. + + + + +IV + +Traits that make a child disagreeable are apt to be perpetuated in the +adult. The bumptious, impudent, selfish, "hateful" boy may become a man +of force, of learning, of decided capacity, even of polish and good +manners, and score success, so that those who know him say how remarkable +it is that such a "knurly" lad should have turned out so well. But some +exigency in his career, it may be extraordinary prosperity or bitter +defeat, may at any moment reveal the radical traits of the boy, the +original ignoble nature. The world says that it is a "throwing back"; it +is probably only a persistence of the original meanness under all the +overlaid cultivation and restraint. + +Without bothering itself about the recondite problems of heredity or the +influence of environment, the world wisely makes great account of +"stock." The peasant nature, which may be a very different thing from +the peasant condition, persists, and shows itself in business affairs, in +literature, even in the artist. No marriage is wisely contracted without +consideration of "stock." The admirable qualities which make a union one +of mutual respect and enduring affection--the generosities, the +magnanimities, the courage of soul, the crystalline truthfulness, the +endurance of ill fortune and of prosperity--are commonly the persistence +of the character of the stock. + +We can get on with surface weaknesses and eccentricities, and even +disagreeable peculiarities, if the substratum of character is sound. +There is no woman or man so difficult--to get on with, whatever his or +her graces or accomplishments, as the one "you don't know where to find," +as the phrase is. Indeed, it has come to pass that the highest and final +eulogy ever given to a man, either in public or private life, is that he +is one "you can tie to." And when you find a woman of that sort you do +not need to explain to the cynical the wisdom of the Creator in making +the most attractive and fascinating sex. + +The traits, good and bad, persist; they may be veneered or restrained, +they are seldom eradicated. All the traits that made the great Napoleon +worshiped, hated, and feared existed in the little Bonaparte, as +perfectly as the pea-pod in the flower. The whole of the First Empire +was smirched with Corsican vulgarity. The world always reckons with +these radical influences that go to make up a family. One of the first +questions asked by an old politician, who knew his world thoroughly, +about any man becoming prominent, when there was a discussion of his +probable action, was, "Whom did he marry?" + +There are exceptions to this general rule, and they are always noticeable +when they occur--this deviation from the traits of the earliest years-- +and offer material fox some of the subtlest and most interesting studies +of the novelist. + +It was impossible for those who met Philip Burnett after he had left +college, and taken his degree in the law-school, and spent a year, more +or less studiously, in Europe, to really know him if they had not known +the dreaming boy in his early home, with all the limitations as well as +the vitalizing influences of his start in life. And on the contrary, the +error of the neighbors of a lad in forecasting his career comes from the +fact that they do not know him. The verdict about Philip would probably +have been that he was a very nice sort of a boy, but that he would never +"set the North River on fire." There was a headstrong, selfish, pushing +sort of boy, one of Philip's older schoolmates, who had become one of the +foremost merchants and operators in New York, and was already talked of +for mayor. This success was the sort that fulfilled the rural idea of +getting on in the world, whereas Philip's accomplishments, seen through +the veneer of conceit which they had occasioned him to take on, did not +commend themselves as anything worth while. Accomplishments rarely do +unless they are translated into visible position or into the currency of +the realm. How else can they be judged? Does not the great public +involuntarily respect the author rather for the sale of his books than +for the books themselves? + +The period of Philip's novitiate--those most important years from his +acquaintance with Celia Howard to the attainment of his professional +degree--was most interesting to him, but the story of it would not detain +the reader of exciting fiction. He had elected to use his little +patrimony in making himself instead of in making money--if merely +following his inclination could be called an election. If he had +reasoned about it he would have known that the few thousands of dollars +left to him from his father's estate, if judiciously invested in +business, would have grown to a good sum when he came of age, and he +would by that time have come into business habits, so that all he would +need to do would be to go on and make more money. If he had reasoned +more deeply he would have seen that by this process he would become a man +of comparatively few resources for the enjoyment of life, and a person of +very little interest to himself or to anybody else. So perhaps it was +just as well that he followed his instincts and postponed the making of +money until he had made himself, though he was to have a good many bitter +days when the possession of money seemed to him about the one thing +desirable. + +It was Celia, who had been his constant counselor and tormentor, about +the time when she was beginning to feel a little shy and long-legged, in +her short skirts, who had, in a romantic sympathy with his tastes, +opposed his going into a "store" as a clerk, which seemed to the boy at +one time an ideal situation for a young man. + +"A store, indeed!" cried the young lady; "pomatum on your hair, and a +grin on your face; snip, snip, snip, calico, ribbons, yard-stick; 'It's +very becoming, miss, that color; this is only a sample, only a remnant, +but I shall have a new stock in by Friday; anything else, ma'am, today?' +Sho! Philip, for a man!" + +Fortunately for Philip there lived in the village an old waif, a +scholarly oddity, uncommunicative, whose coming to dwell there had +excited much gossip before the inhabitants got used to his odd ways. + +Usually reticent and rough of speech--the children thought he was an old +bear--he was nevertheless discovered to be kindly and even charitable in +neighborhood emergencies, and the minister said he was about the most +learned man he ever knew. His history does not concern us, but he was +doubtless one of the men whose talents have failed to connect with +success in anything, who had had his bout with the world, and retired +into peaceful seclusion in an indulgence of a mild pessimism about the +world generally. + +He lived alone, except for the rather neutral presence of Aunt Hepsy, who +had formerly been a village tailoress, and whose cottage he had bought +with the proviso that the old woman should continue in it as "help." +With Aunt Hepsy he was no more communicative than with anybody else. "He +was always readin', when he wasn't goin' fishin' or off in the woods with +his gun, and never made no trouble, and was about the easiest man to get +along with she ever see. You mind your business and he'll mind his'n." +That was the sum of Aunt Hepsy's delivery about the recluse, though no +doubt her old age was enriched by constant "study" over his probable +history and character. But Aunt Hepsy, since she had given up tailoring, +was something of a recluse herself. + +The house was full of books, mostly queer books, "in languages nobody +knows what," as Aunt Hepsy said, which made Philip open his eyes when he +went there one day to take to the old man a memorandum-book which he had +found on Mill Brook. The recluse took a fancy to the ingenuous lad when +he saw he was interested in books, and perhaps had a mind not much more +practical than his own; the result was an acquaintance, and finally an +intimacy--at which the village wondered until it transpired that Philip +was studying with the old fellow, who was no doubt a poor shack of a +school-teacher in disguise. + +It was from this gruff friend that Philip learned Greek and Latin enough +to enable him to enter college, not enough drill and exact training in +either to give him a high stand, but an appreciation of the literatures +about which the old scholar was always enthusiastic. Philip regretted +all his life that he had not been severely drilled in the classics and +mathematics, for he never could become a specialist in anything. But +perhaps, even in this, fate was dealing with him according to his +capacities. And, indeed, he had a greater respect for the scholarship of +his wayside tutor than for the pedantic acquirements of many men he came +to know afterwards. It was from him that Philip learned about books and +how to look for what he wanted to know, and it was he who directed +Philip's taste to the best. When he went off to college the lad had not +a good preparation, but he knew a great deal that would not count in the +entrance examinations. + +"You will need all the tools you can get the use of, my boy, in the +struggle," was the advice of his mentor, "and the things you will need +most may be those you have thought least of. I never go fishing without +both fly and bait." + +Philip was always grateful that before he entered college he had a fine +reading knowledge of French, and that he knew enough German to read and +enjoy Heine's poems and prose, and that he had read, or read in, pretty +much all the English classics. + +He used to recall the remark of a lad about his own age, who was on a +vacation visit to Rivervale, and had just been prepared for college at +one of the famous schools. The boys liked each other and were much +together in the summer, and talked about what interested them during +their rambles, carrying the rod or the fowling-piece. Philip naturally +had most to say about the world he knew, which was the world of books-- +that is to say, the stored information that had accumulated in the world. +This more and more impressed the trained student, who one day exclaimed: + +"By George! I might have known something if I hadn't been kept at school +all my life." + +Philip's career in college could not have been called notable. He was +not one of the dozen stars in the class-room, but he had a reputation of +another sort. His classmates had a habit of resorting to him if they +wanted to "know anything" outside the text-books, for the range of his +information seemed to them encyclopaedic. On the other hand, he escaped +the reputation of what is called "a good fellow." He was not so much +unpopular as he was unknown in the college generally, but those who did +know him were tolerant of the fact that he cared more for reading than +for college sports or college politics. It must be confessed that he +added little to the reputation of the university, since his name was +never once mentioned in the public prints--search has been made since the +public came to know him as a writer--as a hero in any crew or team on any +game field. Perhaps it was a little selfish that his muscle developed in +the gymnasium was not put into advertising use for the university. The +excuse was that he had not time to become an athlete, any more than he +had time to spend three years in the discipline of the regular army, +which was in itself an excellent thing. + +Celia, in one of her letters--it was during her first year at a woman's +college, when the development of muscle in gymnastics, running, and the +vigorous game of ball was largely engaging the attention of this +enthusiastic young lady--took him to task for his inactivity. "This is +the age of muscle," she wrote; "the brain is useless in a flabby body, +and probably the brain itself is nothing but concentrated intelligent +muscle. I don't know how men are coming out, but women will never get +the position they have the right to occupy until they are physically the +equals of men." + +Philip had replied, banteringly, that if that were so he had no desire to +enter in a physical competition with women, and that men had better look +out for another field. + +But later on, when Celia had got into the swing of the classics, and was +training for a part in the play of "Antigone," she wrote in a different +strain, though she would have denied that the change had any relation to +the fact that she had strained her back in a rowing-match. She did not +apologize for her former advice, but she was all aglow about the Greek +drama, and made reference to Aspasia as an intellectual type of what +women might become. "I didn't ever tell you how envious I used to be +when you were studying Greek with that old codger in Rivervale, and could +talk about Athens and all that. Next time we meet, I can tell you, it +will be Greek meets Greek. I do hope you have not dropped the classics +and gone in for the modern notion of being real and practical. If I ever +hear of your writing 'real' poetry--it is supposed to be real if it is in +dialect or misspelled! never will write you again, much less speak to +you." + +Whatever this decided young woman was doing at the time she was sure was +the best for everybody to do, and especially for Master Phil. + +Now that the days of preparation were over, and Philip found himself in +New York, face to face with the fact that he had nowhere to look for +money to meet the expense of rent, board, and clothes except to his own +daily labor, and that there was another economy besides that which he had +practiced as to luxuries, there were doubtless hours when his faith +wavered a little in the wisdom of the decision that had invested all his +patrimony in himself. He had been fortunate, to be sure, in securing a +clerk's desk in the great law-office of Hunt, Sharp & Tweedle, and he had +the kindly encouragement of the firm that, with close application to +business, he would make his way. But even in this he had his misgivings, +for a great part of his acquirements, and those he most valued, did not +seem to be of any use in his office-work. He had a lofty conception of +his chosen profession, as the right arm in the administration of justice +between man and man. In practice, however, it seemed to him that the +object was to win a case rather than to do justice in a case. +Unfortunately, also, he had cultivated his imagination to the extent that +he could see both sides of a case. To see both sides is indeed the +requisite of a great lawyer, but to see the opposite side only in order +to win, as in looking over an opponent's hand in a game of cards. It +seemed to Philip that this clear perception would paralyze his efforts +for one side if he knew it was the wrong side. The argument was that +every cause a man's claim or his defense--ought to be presented in its +fullness and urged with all the advocate's ingenuity, and that the +decision was in the bosom of an immaculate justice on the bench and the +unbiased intelligence in the jury-box. This might be so. But Philip +wondered what would be the effect on his own character and on his +intellect if he indulged much in the habit of making the worse appear the +better cause, and taking up indifferently any side that paid. For +himself, he was inclined always to advise clients to "settle," and he +fancied that if the occupation of the lawyer was to explain the case to +people ignorant of it, and to champion only the right side, as it +appeared to an unprejudiced, legally trained mind, and to compose instead +of encouraging differences, the law would indeed be a noble profession, +and the natural misunderstandings, ignorance, and different points of +view would make business enough. + +"Stuff!" said Mr. Sharp. "If you begin by declining causes you +disapprove of, the public will end by letting you alone in your self- +conceited squeamishness. It's human nature you've got to deal with, +not theories about law and justice. I tell you that men like litigation. +They want to have it out with somebody. And it is better than +fisticuffs." + +From Mr. Hunt, who moved in the serener upper currents of the law, Philip +got more satisfaction. + +"Of course, Mr. Burnett, there are miserable squabbles in the law +practice, and contemptible pettifoggers and knaves, and men who will sell +themselves for any dirty work, as there are in most professions and +occupations, but the profession could not exist for a day if it was not +on the whole on the side of law and order and justice. + +No doubt it needs from time to time criticism and reformation. +So does the church. You look at the characters of the really great +lawyers! And there is another thing. In dealing with the cases of our +complex life, there is no accomplishment, no learning in science, art, or +literature, that the successful practitioner will not find it very +advantageous to possess. And a lawyer will never be eminent who has not +imagination." + +Philip thought he had a very good chance of exercising his imagination in +the sky chamber where he slept--a capital situation from which to observe +the world. There could not have been an uglier view created--a shapeless +mass of brick and stone and painted wood, a collected, towering +monstrosity of rectangular and inharmonious lines, a realized dream of +hideousness--but for the splendid sky, always changing and doing all that +was possible in the gleams and shadows and the glowing colors of morning +and evening to soften the ambitious work of man; but for the wide +horizon, with patches of green shores and verdant flats washed by the +kindly tide; but for the Highlands and Staten Island, the gateway to the +ocean; but for the great river and the mighty bay shimmering and +twinkling and often iridescent, and the animated life of sails and +steamers, the leviathans of commerce and the playthings of pleasure, and +the beetle-like, monstrous ferry-boats that pushed their noses through +all the confusion, like intelligent, business-like saurians that knew how +to keep an appointed line by a clumsy courtesy of apparent yielding. +Yes, there was life enough in all this, and inspiration, if one only knew +what to be inspired about. + +When Philip came home from the office at sunset, through the bustling +streets, and climbed up to his perch, he insensibly brought with him +something of the restless energy and strife of the city, and in this mood +the prospect before him took on a certain significance of great things +accomplished, of the highest form of human energy and achievement; he was +a part of this exuberant, abundant life, to succeed in the struggle +seemed easy, and for the moment he possessed what he saw. + +The little room had space enough for a cot bed, a toilet-stand, +a couple of easy-chairs--an easy-chair is the one article of furniture +absolutely necessary to a reflecting student--some well-filled +book-shelves, a small writing-desk, and a tiny closet quite large enough +for a wardrobe which seemed to have no disposition to grow. Except for +the books and the writing-desk, with its heterogeneous manuscripts, +unfinished or rejected, there was not much in the room to indicate the +taste of its occupant, unless you knew that his taste was exhibited +rather by what he excluded from the room than by what it contained. It +must be confessed that, when Philip was alone with his books and his +manuscripts, his imagination did not expand in the directions that would +have seemed profitable to the head of his firm. That life of the town +which was roaring in his ears, that panorama of prosperity spread before +him, related themselves in his mind not so much as incitements to engage +in the quarrels of his profession as something demanding study and +interpretation, something much more human than processes and briefs and +arguments. And it was a dark omen for his success that the world +interested him much more for itself than for what he could make out of +it. Make something to be sure he must--so long as he was only a law +clerk on a meagre salary--and it was this necessity that had much to do +with the production of the manuscripts. It was a joke on Philip in his +club--by-the-way, the half-yearly dues were not far off--that he was +doing splendidly in the law; he already had an extensive practice in +chambers! + +The law is said to be a jealous mistress, but literature is a young lady +who likes to be loved for herself alone, and thinks permission to adore +is sufficient reward for her votary. Common-sense told Philip that the +jealous mistress would flout him and land him in failure if he gave her a +half-hearted service; but the other young lady, the Helen of the +professions, was always beckoning him and alluring him by the most subtle +arts, occupying all his hours with meditations on her grace and beauty, +till it seemed the world were well lost for her smile. And the +fascinating jade never hinted that devotion to her brought more drudgery +and harassment and pain than any other service in the world. It would +not have mattered if she had been frank, and told him that her promise of +eternal life was illusory and her rewards commonly but a flattering of +vanity. There was no resisting her enchantments, and he would rather +follow her through a world of sin and suffering, pursuing her radiant +form over bog and moor, in penury and heartache, for one sunrise smile +and one glimpse of her sunset heaven, than to walk at ease with a +commonplace maiden on any illumined and well-trod highway. + + + + +V + +It is the desire of every ambitious soul to, enter Literature by the +front door, and the few who have patience and money enough to live +without the aid of the beckoning Helen may enter there. But a side +entrance is the destiny of most aspirants, even those with the golden key +of genius, and they are a long time in working their way to be seen +coming out, of the front entrance. It is true that a man can attract +considerable and immediate attention by trying to effect an entrance +through the sewer, but he seldom gains the respect of the public whom he +interests, any more than an exhibitor of fireworks gains the reputation +of an artist that is accorded to the painter of a good picture. + +Philip was waiting at the front door, with his essays and his prose +symphonies and his satirical novel--the satire of a young man is apt to +be very bitter--but it was as tightly shut against him as if a publisher +and not the muse of literature kept the door. + +There was a fellow-boarder with Philip, whose acquaintance he had made at +the common table in the basement, who appeared to be free of the world of +letters and art. He was an alert, compact, neatly dressed little fellow, +who had apparently improved every one of his twenty-eight years in the +study of life, in gaining assurance and confidence in himself, and also +presented himself as one who knew the nether world completely but was not +of it. He would have said of himself that he knew it profoundly, that he +frequented it for "material," but that his home was in another sphere. +The impression was that he belonged among those brilliant guerrillas of +both sexes, in the border-land of art and society, who lived daintily and +talked about life with unconventional freedom. Slight in figure, with +very black hair, and eyes of cloudy gray, an olive complexion, and +features trained to an immobility proof against emotion or surprise, the +whole poised as we would say in the act of being gentlemanly, it is +needless to say that he took himself seriously. His readiness, self- +confidence, cocksureness, Philip thought all expressed in his name--Olin +Brad. + +Mr. Brad was not a Bohemian--that is, not at all a Bohemian of the +recognized type. His fashionable dress, closely trimmed hair, and dainty +boots took him out of that class. He belonged to the new order, which +seems to have come in with modern journalism--that is, Bohemian in +principle, but of the manners and apparel of the favored of fortune. Mr. +Brad was undoubtedly clever, and was down as a bright young man in the +list of those who employed talent which was not dulled by conscientious +scruples. He had stood well in college, during three years in Europe he +had picked up two or three languages, dissipated his remaining small +fortune, acquired expensive tastes, and knowledge, both esoteric and +exoteric, that was valuable to him in his present occupation. Returning +home fully equipped for a modern literary career, and finding after some +bitter experience that his accomplishments were not taken or paid for at +their real value by the caterers for intellectual New York, he had +dropped into congenial society on the staff of the Daily Spectrum, a +mighty engine of public opinion, which scattered about the city and +adjacent territory a million of copies, as prodigally as if they had been +auctioneers' announcements. Fastidious people who did not read it gave +it a bad name, not recognizing the classic and heroic attitude of those +engaged in pitchforking up and turning over the muck of the Augean +stables under the pretense of cleaning them. + +Mr. Brad had a Socratic contempt for this sort of fault-finding. It was +answer enough to say, "It pays. The people like it or they wouldn't buy +it. It commands the best talent in the market and can afford to pay for +it; even clergymen like to appear in its columns--they say it's a +providential chance to reach the masses. And look at the Morning GooGoo" +(this was his nickname for one of the older dailies), "it couldn't pay +its paper bills if it hadn't such a small circulation." + +Mr. Brad, however, was not one of the editors, though the acceptance of +an occasional short editorial, sufficiently piquant and impudent and +vivid in language--to suit, had given him hopes. He was salaried, but +under orders for special service, and was always in the hope that the +execution of each new assignment would bring him into popular notice, +which would mean an advance of position and pay. + +Philip was impressed with the ready talent, the adaptable talent, and the +facility of this accomplished journalist, and as their acquaintance +improved he was let into many of the secrets of success in the +profession. + +"It isn't an easy thing," said Mr. Brad, "to cater to a public that gets +tired of anything in about three days. But it is just as well satisfied +with a contradiction as with the original statement. It calls both news. +You have to watch out and see what the people want, and give it to 'em. +It is something like the purveying of the manufacturers and the dry-goods +jobber for the changing trade in fashions; only the newspaper has the +advantage that it can turn a somersault every day and not have any +useless stock left on hand. + +The public hasn't any memory, or, if it has, this whirligig process +destroys it. What it will not submit to is the lack of a daily surprise. +Keep that in your mind and you can make a popular newspaper. Only," +continued Mr. Brad, reflectively, "you've got to hit a lot of different +tastes. + +"You'd laugh," this artist in emotions went on, after a little pause, "at +some of my assignments. There was a run awhile ago on elopements, and my +assignment was to have one every Monday morning. The girl must always be +lovely and refined and moving in the best society; elopement with the +coachman preferred, varied with a teacher in a Sunday-school. Invented? +Not always. It was surprising how many you could find ready made, if you +were on the watch. I got into the habit of locating them in the interior +of Pennsylvania as the safest place, though Jersey seemed equally +probable to the public. Did I never get caught? That made it all the +more lively and interesting. Denials, affidavits, elaborate +explanations, two sides to any question; if it was too hot, I could +change the name and shift the scene to a still more obscure town. Or it +could be laid to the zeal of a local reporter, who could give the most +ingenious reasons for his story. Once I worked one of those imaginary +reporters up into such prominence for his clever astuteness that my boss +was taken in, and asked me to send for him and give him a show on the +paper. + +"Oh, yes, we have to keep up the domestic side. A paper will not go +unless the women like it. One of the assignments I liked was 'Sayings of +Our Little Ones.' This was for every Tuesday morning. Not more than +half a column. These always got copied by the country press solid. It +is really surprising how many bright things you can make children of five +and six years say if you give your mind to it. The boss said that I +overdid it sometimes and made them too bright instead of 'just cunning.' + +"'Psychological Study of Children' had a great run. This is the age of +science. Same with animals, astronomy--anything. If the public wants +science, the papers will give it science. + +"After all, the best hold for a lasting sensation is an attack upon some +charity or public institution; show up the abuses, and get all the +sentimentalists on your side. The paper gets sympathy for its +fearlessness in serving the public interests. It is always easy to find +plenty of testimony from ill-used convicts and grumbling pensioners." + +Undoubtedly Olin Brad was a clever fellow, uncommonly well read in the +surface literatures of foreign origin, and had a keen interest in what he +called the metaphysics of his own time. He had many good qualities, +among them friendliness towards men and women struggling like himself to +get up the ladder, and he laid aside all jealousy when he advised Philip +to try his hand at some practical work on the Spectrum. What puzzled +Philip was that this fabricator of "stories " for the newspaper should +call himself a "realist." The "story," it need hardly be explained, is +newspaper slang for any incident, true or invented, that is worked up for +dramatic effect. To state the plain facts as they occurred, or might +have occurred, and as they could actually be seen by a competent +observer, would not make a story. The writer must put in color, and +idealize the scene and the people engaged in it, he must invent dramatic +circumstances and positions and language, so as to produce a "picture." +And this picture, embroidered on a commonplace incident, has got the name +of "news." The thread of fact in this glittering web the reader must +pick out by his own wits, assisted by his memory of what things usually +are. And the public likes these stories much better than the unadorned +report of facts. It is accustomed to this view of life, so much so that +it fancies it never knew what war was, or what a battle was, until the +novelists began to report them. + +Mr. Brad was in the story stage of his evolution as a writer. His light +facility in it had its attraction for Philip, but down deep in his nature +he felt and the impression was deepened by watching the career of several +bright young men and women on the press--that indulgence in it would +result in such intellectual dishonesty as to destroy the power of +producing fiction that should be true to life. He was so impressed by +the ability and manifold accomplishments of Mr. Brad that he thought it a +pity for him to travel that road, and one day he asked him why he did not +go in for literature. + +"Literature!" exclaimed Mr. Brad, with some irritation; "I starved on +literature for a year. Who does live on it, till he gets beyond the +necessity of depending on it? There is a lot of humbug talked about it. +You can't do anything till you get your name up. Some day I will make a +hit, and everybody will ask, 'Who is this daring, clever Olin Brad?' +Then I can get readers for anything I choose to write. Look at Champ +Lawson. He can't write correct English, he never will, he uses +picturesque words in a connection that makes you doubt if he knows what +they mean. But he did a dare-devil thing picturesquely, and now the +publishers are at his feet. When I met him the other day he affected to +be bored with so much attention, and wished he had stuck to the livery- +stable. He began at seventeen by reporting a runaway from the point of +view of the hostler." + +"Well," said Philip, "isn't it quite in the line of the new movement that +we should have an introspective hostler, who perhaps obeys Sir Philip +Sidney's advice, 'Look into your heart and write'? I chanced the other +night in a company of the unconventional and illuminated, the 'poster' +set in literature and art, wild-eyed and anaemic young women and +intensely languid, 'nil admirari' young men, the most advanced products +of the studios and of journalism. It was a very interesting conclave. +Its declared motto was, 'We don't read, we write.' And the members were +on a constant strain to say something brilliant, epigrammatic, original. +The person who produced the most outre sentiment was called 'strong.' +The women especially liked no writing that was not 'strong.' The +strongest man in the company, and adored by the women, was the poet- +artist Courci Cleves, who always seems to have walked straight out of a +fashion-plate, much deferred to in this set, which affects to defer to +nothing, and a thing of beauty in the theatre lobbies. Mr. Cleves gained +much applause for his well-considered wish that all that has been written +in the world, all books and libraries, could be destroyed, so as to give +a chance to the new men and the fresh ideas of the new era." + +"My dear sir," said Brad, who did not like this caricature of his +friends, "you don't make any allowance for the eccentricities of genius." + +"You would hit it nearer if you said I didn't make allowance for the +eccentricities without genius," retorted Philip. + +"Well," replied Mr. Brad, taking his leave, "you don't understand your +world. You go your own way and see where you will come out." + +And when Philip reflected on it, he wondered if it were not rash to +offend those who had the public ear, and did up the personals and minor +criticisms for the current prints. He was evidently out of view. No +magazine paper of his had gained the slightest notice from these +sublimated beings, who discovered a new genius every month. + +A few nights after this conversation Mr. Brad was in uncommon spirits at +dinner. + +"Anything special turned up?" asked Philip. + +"Oh, nothing much. I've thrown away the chance of the biggest kind of a +novel of American life. Only it wouldn't keep. You look in the Spectrum +tomorrow morning. You'll see something interesting." + +"Is it a--" and Philip's incredulous expression supplied the word. + +"No, not a bit. And the public is going to be deceived this time, sure, +expecting a fake. You know Mavick?" + +"I've heard of him--the operator, a millionaire." + +"A good many times. Used to be minister or consul or something at Rome. +A great swell. It's about his daughter, Evelyn, a stunning girl about +sixteen or seventeen--not out yet." + +"I hope it's no scandal." + +"No, no; she's all right. It's the way she's brought up--shows what +we've come to. They say she's the biggest heiress in America and a +raving beauty, the only child. She has been brought up like the +Kohinoor, never out of somebody's sight. She has never been alone one +minute since she was born. Had three nurses, and it was the business of +one of them, in turn, to keep an eye on her. Just think of that. Never +was out of the sight of somebody in her life. Has two maids now--always +one in the room, night and day." + +"What for?" + +"Why, the parents are afraid she'll be kidnapped, and held for a big +ransom. No, I never saw her, but I've got the thing down to a dot. +Wouldn't I like to interview her, though, get her story, how the world +looks to her. Under surveillance for sixteen years! The 'Prisoner of +Chillon' is nothing to it for romance." + +"Just the facts are enough, I should say." + +"Yes, facts make a good basis, sometimes. I've got 'em all in, but of +course I've worked the thing up for all it is worth. You'll see. +I kept it one day to try and get a photograph. We've got the house and +Mavick, but the girl's can't be found, and it isn't safe to wait. We are +going to blow it out tomorrow morning." + + + + +VI + +The Mavick mansion was on Fifth Avenue in the neighborhood of Central +Park. It was one of the buildings in the city that strangers were always +taken to see. In fact, this was a palace not one kind of a palace, but +all kinds of a palace. The clever and ambitious architect of the house +had grouped all the styles of architecture he had ever seen, or of which +he had seen pictures. Here was not an architectural conception, like a +sonnet or a well-constructed novel, but if all the work could have been +spread out in line, in all its variety, there would have been produced a +panorama. The sight of the mansion always caused wonder and generally +ignorant admiration. Its vastness and splendor were felt to be somehow +typical of the New World and of the cosmopolitan city. + +The cost, in the eyes of the spectators, was a great part of its merits. +No doubt this was a fabulous sum. "You can form a little idea of it," +said a gentleman to his country friend, "when I tell you that that little +bit there, that little corner of carving and decoration, cost two hundred +thousand dollars! I had this from the architect himself." + +"My!" + +The interior was as fully representative of wealth and of the ambition to +put under one roof all the notable effects of all the palaces in the +world. But it had, what most palaces have not, all the requisites for +luxurious living. The variety of styles in the rooms was bewildering. +Artists of distinction, both foreign and native, had vied with each other +in the decoration of the rooms given over to the display of their genius. +All paganism and all Christianity, history, myth, and the beauties of +nature were spread upon the walls and ceilings. Rare woods, rare +marbles, splendid textures, the product of ancient handiwork and modern +looms, added a certain dignity to the more airy creations of the artists. +Many of the rooms were named from the nations whose styles of decoration +and furnishing were imitated in them, but others had the simple +designation of the gold room, the silver room, the lapis-lazuli room, and +so on. It was not only the show-rooms, the halls, passages, stairways, +and galleries (both of pictures and of curios) that were thus enriched, +but the boudoirs, retiring-rooms, and more private apartments as well. +It was not simply a house of luxury, but of all the comfort that modern +invention can furnish. It was said that the money lavished upon one or +two of the noble apartments would have built a State-house (though not at +Albany), and that the fireplace in the great hall cost as much as an +imitation mediaeval church. These were the things talked about, and yet +the portions of this noble edifice, rich as they were, habitually +occupied by the family had another character--the attractions and +conveniences of what we call a home. Mrs. Mavick used to say that in her +apartments she found refuge in a sublimated domesticity. Mavick's own +quarters--not the study off the library where he received visitors whom +it was necessary to impress--had an executive appearance, and were, in +the necessary appliances, more like the interior bureau of a board of +trade. In fact, the witty brokers who were admitted to its mysteries +called it the bucket-shop. + +Mr. Brad's article on "A Prisoned Millionaire" more than equaled Philip's +expectations. No such "story" had appeared in the city press in a long +time. It was what was called, in the language of the period, a work of +art--that is, a sensation, heightened by all the words of color in the +language, applied not only to material things, but to states and +qualities of mind, such as "purple emotions" and "scarlet intrepidity." +It was also exceedingly complimentary. Mavick himself was one of the +powers and pillars of American society, and the girl was an exquisite +exhibition of woodland bloom in the first flush of spring-time. As he +read it over, Philip thought what a fine advertisement it is to every +impecunious noble in Europe + +That morning, before going to his office, Philip strolled up Fifth Avenue +to look at that now doubly, famous mansion. Many others, it appeared, +were moved by the same curiosity. There was already a crowd assembled. +A couple of policemen, on special duty, patrolled the sidewalk in front +in order to keep a passage open, and perhaps to prevent a too impudent +inspection. Opposite the house, on the sidewalk and on door-steps, was a +motley throng, largely made up of toughs and roughs from the East Side, +good-natured spectators who merely wanted to see this splendid prison, +and a moving line of gentlemen and ladies who simply happened to be +passing that way at this time. The curbstone was lined with a score of +reporters of the city journals, each with his note-book. Every window +and entrance was eagerly watched. It was hoped that one of the family +might be seen, or that some servant might appear who could be +interviewed. Upon the windows supposed by the reporters to be those from +which the heiress looked, a strict watch was kept. The number, form, and +location of these windows were accurately noted, the stuff of the +curtains described in the phrase of the upholsterer, and much good +language was devoted to the view from these windows. The shrewdest of +the reporters had already sought information as to the interior from the +flower dealers, from upholsterers, from artists who had been employed in +the decorations, and had even assailed, in the name of the rights of the +public whom they represented, the architects of the building; but their +chief reliance was upon the waiters furnished by the leading caterers on +occasions of special receptions and great dinners, and milliners and +dress-makers, who had penetrated the more domestic apartments. By reason +of this extraordinary article in the newspaper, the public had acquired +the right to know all about the private life of the Mavick family. + +This right was not acknowledged by Mr. Mavick and his family. Of course +the object of the excitement was wholly ignorant of the cause of it, as +no daily newspaper was ever seen by her that had not been carefully +inspected by the trusted and intelligent governess. The crowd in front +of the mansion was accounted for by the statement that a picture of it +had appeared in one of the low journals, and there was naturally a +curiosity to see it. And Evelyn was told that this was one of the +penalties a man paid for being popular. + +Mrs. Mavick, who seldom lost her head, was thoroughly frightened and +upset, and it was a rare occasion that could upset the equanimity of the +late widow, Mrs. Carmen Henderson. She gave way to her passion and +demanded that the offending editor should be pursued with the utmost +rigor of the law. Mr. Mavick was not less annoyed and angry, but he +smiled when his wife talked of pursuing the press with the utmost rigor +of the law, and said that he would give the matter prompt attention. +That day he had an interview with the editor of the Daily Spectrum; which +was satisfactory to both parties. The editor would have said that Mavick +behaved like a gentleman. The result of the interview appeared in the +newspaper of the following morning. + +Mr. Mavick had requested that the offending reporter should be cautioned; +he was too wise to have further attention called to the matter by +demanding his dismissal. Accordingly the reporter was severely +reprimanded, and then promoted. + +The editorial, which was written by Mr. Olin Brad, and was in his best +Macaulay style, began somewhat humorously by alluding to the curious +interest of the public in ancient history, citing Mr. Froude and Mr. +Carlyle, and the legend of Casper Hauser. It was true, gradually +approaching the case in point, that uncommon precautions had been taken +in the early years of the American heiress, and it was the romance of the +situation that had been laid before the readers of the Spectrum. But +there had been really no danger in our chivalrous, free American society, +and all these precautions were long a thing of the past (which was not +true). In short, with elaboration and great skill, and some humor, the +exaggerations of the former article were minimized, and put in an airy +and unsubstantial light. And then this friend of the people, this +exposer of abuses and champion of virtue, turned and justly scored the +sensational press for prying into the present life of one of the first +families in the country. + +Incidentally, it was mentioned that the ladies of the family had before +this incident bespoken their passage for their annual visit to Europe, +and that this affair had not disturbed their arrangements (which also was +not true). This casual announcement was intended to draw away attention +from the Fifth Avenue house, and to notify the roughs that it would be +useless to lay any plans. + +The country press, which had far and wide printed the interesting story, +softened it in accordance with the later development. Possibly no +intelligent person was deceived, but in the estimation of the mass of the +people the Spectrum increased its reputation for enterprise and smartness +and gave also an impression of its fairness. The manager, told Mr. Brad +that the increased sales of the two days permitted the establishment to +give him a vacation of two weeks on full pay, and during these weeks the +manager himself set up a neat and modest brougham. + +All of which events, only partially understood, Mr. Philip Burnett +revolved in his mind, and wondered if what was called success was worth +the price paid for it. + + + + +VII + +The name of Thomas Mavick has lost the prominence and significance it had +at the time the events recorded in this history were taking place. It +seems incredible that the public should so soon have lost interest in +him. His position in the country was most conspicuous. No name was more +frequently in the newspapers. No other person not in official life was +so often interviewed. The reporters instinctively turned to him for +information in matters financial, concerning deals, and commercial, which +were so commonly connected with political, enterprises. No loan was +negotiated without consulting him, no operation was considered safe +without knowing how he was affected towards it, and to ascertain what +Mavick was doing or thinking was a constant anxiety in the Street. Of +course the opinion of a man so powerful was very important in politics, +and any church or sect would be glad to have his support. The fact that +he and his family worshiped regularly at St. Agnes's was a guarantee of +the stability of that church, and incidentally marked the success of the +Christian religion in the metropolis. + +But the condition of the presence in the public mind of the name of a +great operator and accumulator of money who is merely that is either that +he go on accumulating, so that the magnitude of his wealth has few if any +rivals, or that his name become synonymous with some gigantic cleverness, +if not rascality, so that it is used as an adjective after he and his +wealth have disappeared from the public view. It is different with the +reputation of an equally great financier who has used his ability for the +service of his country. There is no Valhalla for the mere accumulators +of money. They are fortunate if their names are forgotten, and not +remembered as illustrations of colossal selfishness. + +Mavick may have been the ideal of many a self-made man, but he did not +make his fortune--he married it. And it was suspected that the +circumstances attending that marriage put him in complete control of it. +He came into possession, however, with cultivated shrewdness and tact and +large knowledge of the world, the world of diplomacy as well as of +business. And under his manipulation the vast fortune so acquired was +reported to have been doubled. It was at any rate almost fabulous in the +public estimation. + +When the charming widow of the late Rodney Henderson, then sojourning in +Rome, placed her attractive self and her still more attractive fortune in +the hands of Mr. Thomas Mavick, United States Minister to the Court of +Italy, she attained a position in the social world which was in accord +with her ambition, and Mavick acquired the means of making the mission, +in point of comparison with the missions of the other powers at the +Italian capital, a credit to the Great Republic. The match was therefore +a brilliant one, and had a sort of national importance. + +Those who knew Mrs. Mavick in the remote past, when she was the +fascinating and not definitely placed Carmen Eschelle, and who also knew +Mr. Mavick when he was the confidential agent of Rodney Henderson, knew +that their union was a convenient and material alliance, in which the +desire of each party to enjoy in freedom all the pleasures of the world +could be gratified while retaining the social consideration of the world. +Both had always been circumspect. And it may be added, for the +information of strangers, that they thoroughly knew each other, and were +participants in a knowledge that put each at disadvantage, so that their +wedded life was a permanent truce. This bond of union was not ideal, and +not the best for the creation of individual character, but it avoided an +exhibition of those public antagonisms which so grieve and disturb the +even flow of the current of society, and give occasion to so much witty +comment on the institution of marriage itself. + +When, some two years after Mr. Mavick relinquished the mission to Italy +to another statesman who had done some service to the opposite party, an +heiress was born to the house of Mavick, her appearance in the world +occasioned some disappointment to those who had caused it. Mavick +naturally wished a son to inherit his name and enlarge the gold +foundation upon which its perpetuity must rest; and Mrs. Mavick as +naturally shrank from a responsibility that promised to curtail freedom +of action in the life she loved. Carmen--it was an old saying of the +danglers in the time of Henderson--was a domestic woman except in her own +home. + +However, it is one of the privileges of wealth to lighten the cares and +duties of maternity, and the enlarged household was arranged upon a basis +that did not interfere with the life of fashion and the charitable +engagements of the mother. Indeed, this adaptable woman soon found that +she had become an object of more than usual interest, by her latest +exploit, in the circles in which she moved, and her softened manner and +edifying conversation showed that she appreciated her position. Even the +McTavishes, who were inclined to be skeptical, said that Carmen was +delightful in her new role. This showed that the information Mrs. Mavick +got from the women who took care of her baby was of a kind to touch the +hearts of mothers and spinsters. + +Moreover, the child was very pretty, and early had winning ways. +The nurse, before the baby was a year old, discovered in her the +cleverness of the father and the grace and fascination of the mother. +And it must be said that, if she did not excite passionate affection at +first, she enlisted paternal and maternal pride in her career. +It dawned upon both parents that a daughter might give less cause for +anxiety than a son, and that in an heiress there were possibilities of an +alliance that would give great social distinction. Considering, +therefore, all that she represented, and the settled conviction of Mrs. +Mavick that she would be the sole inheritor of the fortune, her safety +and education became objects of the greatest anxiety and precaution. + +It happened that about the time Evelyn was christened there was a sort of +epidemic of stealing children, and of attempts to rob tombs of occupants +who had died rich or distinguished, in the expectation of a ransom. The +newspapers often chronicled mysterious disappearances; parents whose +names were conspicuous suffered great anxiety, and extraordinary +precautions were taken in regard to the tombs of public men. And this +was the reason that the heiress of the house of Mavick became the object +of a watchful vigilance that was probably never before exercised in a +republic, and that could only be paralleled in the case of a sole heir- +apparent of royalty. + +These circumstances resulted in an interference with the laws of nature +which it must be confessed destroyed one of the most interesting studies +in heredity that was ever offered to an historian of social life. What +sort of a child had we a right to expect from Thomas Mavick, diplomatist +and operator, successor to the rights and wrongs of Rodney Henderson, and +Carmen Mavick, with the past of Carmen Eschelle and Mrs. Henderson? +Those who adhered to the strictest application of heredity, in +considering the natural development of Evelyn Mavick, sought refuge in +the physiological problem of the influence of Rodney Henderson, and +declared that something of his New England sturdiness and fundamental +veracity had been imparted to the inheritor of his great fortune. + +But the visible interference took the form of Ann McDonald, a Scotch +spinster, to whom was intrusted the care of Evelyn as soon as she was +christened. It was merely a piece of good fortune that brought a person +of the qualifications of Ann McDonald into the family, for it is not to +be supposed that Mrs. Mavick had given any thought to the truth that the +important education of a child begins in its cradle, +or that in selecting a care-taker and companion who should later on be a +governess she was consulting her own desire of freedom from the duties of +a mother. It was enough for her that the applicant for the position had +the highest recommendations, that she was prepossessing in appearance, +and it was soon perceived that the guardian was truthful, faithful, +vigilant, and of an affectionate disposition and an innate refinement. + +Ann McDonald was the only daughter of a clergyman of the Scotch Church, +and brought up in the literary atmosphere common in the most cultivated +Edinburgh homes. She had been accurately educated, and always with the +knowledge that her education might be her capital in life. After the +death of her mother, when she was nineteen, she had been her father's +housekeeper, and when in her twenty-fourth year her father relinquished +his life and his salary, she decided, under the advice of influential +friends, to try her fortune in America. And she never doubted that it +was a providential guidance that brought her into intimate relations with +the infant heiress. It seemed probable that a woman so attractive and so +solidly accomplished would not very long remain a governess, but in fact +her career was chosen from the moment she became interested in the +development of the mind and character of the child intrusted to her care. +It is difficult to see how our modern life would go on as well as it does +if there were not in our homes a good many such faithful souls. It +sometimes seems, in this shifting world, that about the best any of us +can do is to prepare some one else for doing something well. + +Miss McDonald had a pretty comprehensive knowledge of English literature +and history, and, better perhaps than mere knowledge, a discriminating +and cultivated taste. If her religious education had twisted her view +of the fine arts, she had nevertheless a natural sympathy for the +beautiful, and she would not have been a Scotchwoman if she had not had +a love for the romances of her native land and at heart a "ballad" +sentiment for the cavaliers. If Evelyn had been educated by her +in Edinburgh, she might have been in sentiment a young Jacobite. She had +through translations a sufficient knowledge of the classics to give her +the necessary literary background, and her study of Latin had led her +into the more useful acquisition of French. + +If she had been free to indulge her own taste, she would have gone far in +natural history, as was evident from her mastery of botany and her +interest in birds. + +She inspired so much confidence by her good sense, clear-headedness, and +discretion, that almost from the first Evelyn was confided to her sole +care, with only the direction that the baby was never for an instant, +night or day, to be left out of the sight of a trusty attendant. The +nurse was absolutely under her orders, she selected the two maids, and no +person except the parents and the governess could admit visitors to the +nursery. This perfect organization was maintained for many years, and +though it came to be relaxed in details, it was literally true that the +heiress was never alone, and never out of the sight of some trusted +person responsible for her safety. But whatever the changes or +relaxation, in holidays, amusements, travel, or education, the person who +formed her mind was the one who had taught her to obey, to put words +together into language, and to speak the truth, from infancy. + +It is not necessary to consider Ann McDonald as a paragon. She was +simply an intelligent, disciplined woman, with a strong sense of duty. +If she had married and gone about the ordinary duties of life at the age +of twenty-four, she would probably have been in no marked way +distinguished among women. Her own development was largely due to the +responsibility that was put upon her in the training of another person. +In this sense it was true that she had learned as much as she had +imparted. And in nothing was this more evident than in the range of her +literary taste and judgment. Whatever risks, whatever latitude she might +have been disposed to take with regard to her own mind, she would not +take as to the mind of another, and as a consequence her own standards +rose to meet the situation. That is to say, in a conscientious selection +of only the best for Evelyn, she became more fastidious as to the food +for her own mind. Or, to put it in still another way, in regard to +character and culture generally, the growth of Miss McDonald could be +measured by that of Evelyn. + +When, from the time Evelyn was seven years old, it became necessary in +her education to call in special tutors in the languages and in +mathematics, and in certain arts that are generally called +accomplishments, Miss McDonald was always present when the +lessons were given, so that she maintained her ascendency and her +influence in the girl's mind. It was this inseparable companionship, at +least in all affairs of the mind, that gave to this educational +experiment an exceptional interest to students of psychology. +Nothing could be more interesting than to come into contact with a mind +that from infancy onward had dwelt only upon what is noblest in +literature, and from which had been excluded all that is enervating and +degrading. A remarkable illustration of this is the familiar case of +Helen Keller, whose acquisitions, by reason of her blindness and +deafness, were limited to what was selected for her, and that mainly by +one person, and she was therefore for a long time shielded from a +knowledge of the evil side of life. Yet all vital literature is so close +to life, and so full of its passion and peril, that it supplies all the +necessary aliment for the growth of a sound, discriminating mind; and +that knowledge of the world, as knowledge of evil is euphemistically +called, can be safely left out of a good education. This may be admitted +without going into the discussion whether good principles and standards +in literature and morals are a sufficient equipment for the perils of +life. + +This experiment, of course, was limited in Evelyn's case. She came in +contact with a great deal of life. Her little world was fairly +representative, for it contained her father, her mother, her governess, +the maids and the servants, and occasional visitors, whom she saw freely +as she grew older. The interesting fact was that she was obliged to +judge this world according to the standards of literature, morals, and +manners that had been implanted in her mainly by the influence of one +person. The important part of this experiment of partial exclusion, in +which she was never alone' an experiment undertaken solely for her safety +and not for her training-was seen in her when she became conscious of its +abnormal character, and perceived that she was always under surveillance. +It might have made her exceedingly morbid, aside from its effect of +paralyzing her self-confidence and power of initiation, had it not been +for the exceptionally strong and cheerful nature of her companion. A +position more hateful, even to a person not specially socially inclined, +cannot be imagined than that of always being watched, and never having +any assured privacy. And under such a tutelage and dependence, how in +any event could she be able to take care of herself? What weapons had +this heiress of a great fortune with which to defend herself? What sort +of a girl had this treatment during seventeen years produced? + + + + +VIII + + +To the private apartment of Mr. Mavick, in the evening of the second +eventful day, where, over his after-dinner cigar, he was amusing himself +with a French novel, enters, after a little warning tap, the mistress of +the house, for, what was a rare occurrence, a little family chat. + +"So you didn't horsewhip and you didn't prosecute. You preferred to +wriggle out!" + +"Yes," said Mavick, too much pleased with the result to be belligerent, +"I let the newspaper do the wriggling." + +"Oh, my dear, I can trust you for that. Have you any idea how it got +hold of the details?" + +"No; you don't think McDonald--" + +"McDonald! I'd as soon suspect myself. So would you." + +"Well, everybody knew it already, for that matter. I only wonder that +some newspaper didn't get on to it before. What did Evelyn say?" + +"Nothing more than what you heard at dinner. She thought it amusing that +there should be such a crowd to gaze at the house, simply because a +picture of it had appeared in a newspaper. She thought her father must +be a very important personage. I didn't undeceive her. At times, you +know, dear, I think so myself." + +"Yes, I've noticed that," said Mavick, with a good-natured laugh, in +which Carmen joined, "and those times usually coincide with the times +that you want something specially." + +"You ought to be ashamed to take me up that way. I just wanted to talk +about the coming-out reception. You know I had come over to your opinion +that seventeen was perhaps better than eighteen, considering Evelyn's +maturity. When I was seventeen I was just as good as I am now." + +"I don't doubt it," said Mavick, with another laugh. + +"But don't you see this affair upsets all our arrangements? It's very +vexatious." + +"I don't see it exactly. By-the-way, what do you think of the escape +suggested by the Spectrum, in the assertion that you and Evelyn had +arranged to go to Europe? The steamer sails tomorrow." + +"Think!" exclaimed Carmen. "Do you think I am going to be run, as you +call it, by the newspapers? They run everything else. I'm not politics, +I'm not an institution, I'm not even a revolution. No, I thank you. It +answers my purpose for them to say we have gone." + +"I suppose you can keep indoors a few days. As to the reception, I had +arranged my business for it. I may be in Mexico or Honolulu the +following winter." + +"Well, we can't have it now. You see that." + +"Carmen, I don't care a rap what the public thinks or says. The child's +got to face the world some time, and look out for herself. I fancy she +will not like it as much as you did." + +"Very likely. Perhaps I liked it because I had to fight it. Evelyn +never will do that." + +"She hasn't the least idea what the world is like." + +"Don't you be too sure of that, my dear; you don't understand yet what a +woman feels and knows. You think she only sees and thinks what she is +told. The conceit of men is most amusing about this. Evelyn is deeper +than you think. The discrimination of that child sometimes positively +frightens me--how she sees into things. It wouldn't surprise me a bit if +she actually knew her father and mother!" + +"Then she beats me," said Mavick, with another laugh, "and I've been at +it a long time. Carmen, just for fun, tell me a little about your early +life." + +"Well"--there was a Madonna-like smile on her lips, and she put out the +toe of her slender foot and appeared to study it for a moment--" +I was intended to be a nun." + +"Spanish or French?" + +"Just a plain nun. But mamma would not hear of it. Mamma was just a bit +worldly." + +"I never should have suspected it," said Mavick, with equal gravity. +"But how did you live in those early days, way back there?" + +"Oh!" and Carmen looked up with the most innocent, open-eyed expression, +"we lived on our income." + +"Naturally. We all try to do that." The tone in Mavick's voice showed +that he gave it up. + +"But, of course," and Carmen was lively again, "it's much nicer to have a +big income that's certain than a small one that is uncertain." + +"It would seem so." + +"Ah, deary me, it's such a world! Don't you think, dear, that we have +had enough domestic notoriety for one year?" + +"Quite. It would do for several." + +"And we will put it off a year?" + +"Arrange as you like." And Mavick stretched up his arms, half yawned, +and took up another cigar. + +"It will be such a relief to McDonald. She insisted it was too soon." +And Carmen whirled out of her chair, went behind her husband, lifted with +her delicate fingers a lock of grayish hair on his forehead, deposited +the lightest kiss there--"Nobody in the world knows how good you are +except me," and was gone. + +And the rich man, who had gained everything he wanted in life except +happiness, lighted his cigar and sought refuge in a tale of modern life, +that was, however, too much like his own history to be consoling. + +It must not be supposed from what she said that Mrs. Mavick stood in fear +of her daughter, but it was only natural that for a woman of the world +the daily contact of a pure mind should be at times inconvenient. This +pure mind was an awful touchstone of conduct, and there was a fear that +Evelyn's ignorance of life would prevent her from making the proper +allowances. In her affectionate and trusting nature, which suspected +little evil anywhere, there was no doubt that her father and mother +had her entire confidence and love. But the likelihood was that she +would not be pliant. Under Miss McDonald's influence she had somewhat +abstract notions of what is right and wrong, and she saw no reason +why these should not be applied in all cases. What her mother would +have called policy and reasonable concessions she would have given +different names. For getting on in the world, this state of mind has its +disadvantages, and in the opinion of practical men, like Mavick, it was +necessary to know good and evil. But it was the girl's power of +discernment that bothered her mother, who used often to wonder where the +child came from. + +On the other hand, it must not be supposed that the singular training of +Evelyn had absolutely destroyed her inherited tendencies, or made her as +she was growing into womanhood anything but a very real woman, with the +reserves, the weaknesses, the coquetries, the defenses which are the +charm of her sex. Nor was she so ignorant of life as such a guarded +personality might be thought. Her very wide range of reading had +liberalized her mind, and given her a much wider outlook upon the +struggles and passions and failures and misery of life than many another +girl of her age had gained by her limited personal experience. Those who +hold the theory that experience is the only guide are right as a matter +of fact, since every soul seems determined to try for itself and not to +accept the accumulated wisdom of literature or of experienced advisers; +but those who come safely out of their experiences are generally sound by +principle which has been instilled in youth. But it is useless to +moralize. Only the event could show whether such an abnormal training as +Evelyn had received was wise. + +When Mrs. Mavick went to her daughter's apartments she found Evelyn +reading aloud and Miss McDonald at work on an elaborate piece of +Bulgarian embroidery. + +"How industrious! What a rebuke to me!" + +"I don't see, mamma, how we could be doing less; I've only an audience of +one, and she is wasting her time." + +"Well, carissima, it is settled. It's off for a year." + +"The reception? Why so?" + +"Your father cannot arrange it. He has too much on hand this season, and +may be away." + +"There, McDonald, we've got a reprieve," and Evelyn gave a sigh of +relief. + +The Scotch woman smiled, and only said, "Then I shall have time to finish +this." + +Evelyn jumped up, threw herself into her mother's lap, and began to +smooth her hair and pet her. "I'm awfully glad. I'd ever so much rather +stay in than come out. Yes, dear little mother." + +"Little?" + +"Yes." And the girl pulled her mother from her chair, and made her stand +up to measure. "See, McDonald, almost an inch taller than mamma, and +when I do my hair on top!" + +"And see, mamma"--the girl was pirouetting on the floor--" I can do those +steps you do. Isn't it Spanish?" + +"Rather Spanish-American, I guess. This is the way." + +Evelyn clapped her hands. "Isn't that lovely!" + +"You are only a little brownie, after all." Her mother was holding her +at arm's--length and studying her critically, wondering if she would ever +be handsome. + +The girl was slender, but not tall. Her figure had her mother's grace, +but not its suggestion of yielding suppleness. She was an undoubted +brunette--complexion olive, hair very dark, almost black except in the +sunlight, and low on her forehead-chin a little strong, and nose piquant +to say the least of it. Certainly features not regular nor classic. The +mouth, larger than her mother's, had full lips, the upper one short, and +admirable curves, strong in repose, but fascinating when she smiled. A +face not handsome, but interesting. And the eyes made you hesitate to +say she was not handsome, for they were large, of a dark hazel and +changeable, eyes that flashed with merriment, or fell into sadness under +the long eyelashes; and it would not be safe to say that they could not +blaze with indignation. Not a face to go wild about, but when you felt +her character through it, a face very winning in its dark virgin purity. + +"I do wonder where she came from? "Mrs. Mavick was saying to herself, as +she threw herself upon a couch in her own room and took up the latest +Spanish novel. + + + + +IX + +Celia Howard had been, in a way, Philip's inspiration ever since the days +when they quarreled and made up on the banks of the Deer field. And a +fortunate thing for him it was that in his callow years there was a woman +in whom he could confide. Her sympathy was everything, even if her +advice was not always followed. In the years of student life and +preparation they had not often met, but they were constant and +painstaking correspondents. It was to her that he gave the running +chronicle of his life, and poured out his heart and aspirations. +Unconsciously he was going to school to a woman, perhaps the most +important part of his education. For, though in this way he might never +hope to understand woman, he was getting most valuable knowledge of +himself. + +As a guide, Philip was not long in discovering that Celia was somewhat +uncertain. She kept before him a very high ideal; she expected him to be +distinguished and successful, but, her means varied from time to time. +Now she would have him take one path and now another. And Philip learned +to read in this varying advice the changes in her own experience. There +was a time when she hoped he would be a great scholar: there was no +position so noble as that of a university professor or president. Then +she turned short round and extolled the business life: get money, get a +position, and then you can study, write books, do anything you like and +be independent. Then came a time--this was her last year in college-- +when science seemed the only thing. That was really a benefit to +mankind: create something, push discovery, dispel ignorance. + +"Why, Phil, if you could get people to understand about ventilation, the +necessity of pure air, you would deserve a monument. And, besides--this +is an appeal to your lower nature--science is now the thing that pays." +Theology she never considered; that was just now too uncertain in its +direction. Law she had finally approved; it was still respectable; it +was a very good waiting-ground for many opportunities, and it did not +absolutely bar him from literature, for which she perceived he had a +sneaking fondness. + +Philip wondered if Celia was not thinking of the law for herself. +She had tried teaching, she had devoted herself for a time to work in a +College Settlement, she had learned stenography, she had talked of +learning telegraphy, she had been interested in women's clubs, in a civic +club, in the political education of women, and was now a professor of +economics in a girl's college. + +It finally dawned upon Philip, who was plodding along, man fashion, in +one of the old ruts, feeling his way, like a true American, into the +career that best suited him, that Celia might be a type of the awakened +American woman, who does not know exactly what she wants. +To be sure, she wants everything. She has recently come into an open +place, and she is distracted by the many opportunities. She has no +sooner taken up one than she sees another that seems better, or more +important in the development of her sex, and she flies to that. +But nothing, long, seems the best thing. Perhaps men are in the way, +monopolizing all the best things. Celia had never made a suggestion of +this kind, but Philip thought she was typical of the women who push +individualism so far as never to take a dual view of life. + +"I have just been," Celia wrote in one of her letters, when she was an +active club woman, "out West to a convention of the Federation of Women's +Clubs. Such a striking collection of noble, independent women! +Handsome, lots of them, and dressed--oh, my friend, dress is still a part +of it! So different from a man's convention! Cranks? Yes, a few left +over. It was a fine, inspiring meeting. But, honestly, I could not +exactly make out what they were federating about, and what they were +going to do when they got federated. It sort of came over me, +I am such a weak sister, that there is such a lot of work done in this +world with no object except the doing of it." + +A more recent letter:--"Do you remember Aunt Hepsy, who used to keep the +little thread-and-needle and candy shop in Rivervale? Such a dear, +sweet, contented old soul! Always a smile and a good word for every +customer. I can see her now, picking out the biggest piece of candy in +the dish that she could afford to give for a little fellow's cent. It +never came over me until lately how much good that old woman did in the +world. I remember what a comfort it was to go and talk with her. Well, +I am getting into a frame of mind to want to be an Aunt Hepsy. There is +so much sawdust in everything--No, I'm not low-spirited. I'm just +philosophical--I've a mind to write a life of Aunt Hepsy, and let the +world see what a real useful life is." + +And here is a passage from the latest:--"What an interesting story your +friend--I hope he isn't you friend, for I don't half like him--has made +out of that Mavick girl! If I were the girl's mother I should want to +roast him over the coals. Is there any truth in it? + +Of course I read it, as everybody did and read the crawl out, and looked +for more. So it is partly our fault, but what a shame it is, the +invasion of family life! Do tell me, if you happen to see her--the girl- +-driving in the Park or anywhere -of course you never will--what she +looks like. I should like to see an unsophisticated millionaire-ess! +But it is an awfully interesting problem, invented or not I'm pretty deep +in psychology these days, and I'd give anything to come in contact with +that girl. You would just see a woman, and you wouldn't know. I'd see a +soul. Dear me, if I'd only had the chance of that Scotch woman! Don't +you see, if we could only get to really know one mind and soul, we should +know it all. I mean scientifically. I know what you are thinking, that +all women have that chance. What you think is impertinent--to the +subject." + +Indeed, the story of Evelyn interested everybody. It was taken up +seriously in the country regions. It absorbed New York gossip for two +days, and then another topic took possession of the mercurial city; but +it was the sort of event to take possession of the country mind. New +York millionaires get more than their share of attention in the country +press at all times, but this romance became the subject of household talk +and church and sewing-circle gossip, and all the women were eager for +more details, and speculated endlessly about the possible character and +career of the girl. + +Alice wrote Philip from Rivervale that her aunt Patience was very much +excited by it. "'The poor thing,' she said, 'always to have somebody +poking round, seeing every blessed thing you do or don't do; it would +drive me crazy. There is that comfort in not having anything much--you +have yourself. You tell Philip that I hope he doesn't go there often. +I've no objection to his being kind to the poor thing when they meet, and +doing neighborly things, but I do hope he won't get mixed up with that +set.' It is very amusing," Alice continued, "to hear Patience +soliloquize about it and construct the whole drama. + +But you cannot say, Philip, that you are not warned (!) and you know that +Patience is almost a prophet in the way she has of putting things +together. Celia was here recently looking after the little house that +has been rented ever since the death of her mother. I never saw her look +so well and handsome, and yet there was a sort of air about her as if she +had been in public a good deal and was quite capable of taking care of +herself. But she was that way when she was little. + +I think she is a good friend of yours. Well, Phil, if you do ever happen +to see that Evelyn in the opera, or anywhere, tell me how she looks and +what she has on--if you can." + +The story had not specially interested Philip, except as it was connected +with Brad's newspaper prospects, but letters, like those referred to, +received from time to time, began to arouse a personal interest. Of +course merely a psychological interest, though the talk here and there at +dinner-tables stimulated his desire, at least, to see the subject of +them. But in this respect he was to be gratified, in the usual way +things desired happen in life--that is, by taking pains to bring them +about. + +When Mr. Brad came back from his vacation his manner had somewhat +changed. He had the air of a person who stands on firm ground. +He felt that he was a personage. He betrayed this in a certain +deliberation of speech, as if any remark from him now might be important. +In a way he felt himself related to public affairs. + +In short, he had exchanged the curiosity of the reporter for the +omniscience of the editor. And for a time Philip was restrained from +intruding the subject of the Mavick sensation. However, one day after +dinner he ventured: + +"I see, Mr. Brad, that your hit still attracts attention." Mr. Brad +looked inquiringly blank. + +I mean about the millionaire heiress. It has excited a wide interest." + +"Ah, that! Yes, it gave me a chance," replied Brad, who was thinking +only of himself. + +"I've had several letters about it from the country." + +"Yes? Well, I suppose," said Brad, modestly, "that a little country +notoriety doesn't hurt a person." + +Philip did not tell his interlocutor that, so far as he knew, nobody in +the country had ever heard the name of Olin Brad, or knew there was such +a person in existence. But he went on: + +"Certainly. And, besides, there is a great curiosity to know about the +girl. Did you ever see her?" + +"Only in public. I don't know Mavick personally, and for reasons," and +Mr. Brad laughed in a superior manner. "It's easy enough to see her." + +"How?" + +"Watch out for a Wagner night, and go to the opera. You'll see where +Mavick's box is in the bill. She is pretty sure to be there, and her +mother. There is nothing special about her; but her mother is still a +very fascinating woman, I can tell you. You'll find her sure on a +'Carmen' night, but not so sure of the girl." + +On this suggestion Philip promptly acted. The extra expense of an +orchestra seat he put down to his duty to keep his family informed of +anything that interested them in the city. It was a "Siegfried" night, +and a full house. To describe it all would be very interesting to Alice. +The Mavick box was empty until the overture was half through. Then +appeared a gentleman who looked as if he were performing a public duty, +a lady who looked as if she were receiving a public welcome, and seated +between them a dark, slender girl, who looked as if she did not see the +public at all, but only the orchestra. + +Behind them, in the shadow, a middle-aged woman in plainer attire. +It must be the Scotch governess. Mrs. Mavick had her eyes +everywhere about the house, and was graciously bowing to her friends. +Mr. Mavick coolly and unsympathetically regarded the house, quite +conscious of it, but as if he were a little bored. You could not see him +without being aware that he was thinking of other things, probably of +far-reaching schemes. People always used to say of Mavick, when he was +young and a clerk in a Washington bureau, that he looked omniscient. At +least the imagination of spectators invested him with a golden hue, and +regarded him through the roseate atmosphere that surrounds a many- +millioned man. The girl had her eyes always on the orchestra, and was +waiting for the opening of the world that lay behind the drop-curtain. +Philip noticed that all the evening Mrs. Mavick paid very little +attention to the stage, except when the rest of the house was so dark +that she could distinguish little in it. + +Fortunately for Philip, in his character of country reporter, the Mavick +box was near the stage, and he could very well see what was going on in +it, without wholly distracting his attention from Wagner's sometimes very +dimly illuminated creation. + +There are faces and figures that compel universal attention and +admiration. Commonly there is one woman in a theatre at whom all glances +are leveled. It is a mystery why one face makes only an individual +appeal, and an appeal much stronger than that of one universally admired. +The house certainly concerned itself very little about the shy and dark +heiress in the Mavick box, having with regard to her only a moment's +curiosity. But the face instantly took hold of Philip. He found it more +interesting to read the play in her face than on the stage. He seemed +instantly to have established a chain of personal sympathy with her. So +intense was his regard that it seemed as if she must, if there is +anything in the telepathic theory of the interchange of feeling, have +been conscious of it. That she was, however, unconscious of any +influence reaching her except from the stage was perfectly evident. She +was absorbed in the drama, even when the drama was almost lost in +darkness, and only an occasional grunting ejaculation gave evidence that +there was at least animal life responsive to the continual pleading, +suggesting, inspiring strains of the orchestra. In the semi-gloom and +groping of the under-world, it would seem that the girl felt that +mystery of life which the instruments were trying to interpret. + +At any rate, Philip could see that she was rapt away into that other +world of the past, to a practical unconsciousness of her immediate +surroundings. Was it the music or the poetic idea that held her? +Perhaps only the latter, for it is Wagner's gift to reach by his +creations those who have little technical knowledge of music. At any +rate, she was absorbed, and so perfectly was the progress of the drama +repeated in her face that Philip, always with the help of the orchestra, +could trace it there. + +But presently something more was evident to this sympathetic student of +her face. She was not merely discovering the poet's world, she was +finding out herself. As the drama unfolded, Philip was more interested +in this phase than in the observation of her enjoyment and appreciation. +To see her eyes sparkle and her cheeks glow with enthusiasm during the +sword-song was one thing, but it was quite another when Siegfried began +his idyl, that nature and bird song of the awakening of the whole being +to the passion of love. Then it was that Evelyn's face had a look of +surprise, of pain, of profound disturbance; it was suffused with blushes, +coming and going in passionate emotion; the eyes no longer blazed, but +were softened in a melting tenderness of sympathy, and her whole person +seemed to be carried into the stream of the great life passion. When it +ceased she sank back in her seat, and blushed still more, as if in fear +that some one had discovered her secret. + +Afterwards, when Philip had an opportunity of knowing Evelyn Mavick, and +knowing her very well, and to some extent having her confidence, he used +to say to himself that he had little to learn--the soul of the woman was +perfectly revealed to him that night of "Siegfried." + +As the curtain went down, Mrs. Mavick, whose attention had not been +specially given to the artists before, was clapping her hands in a great +state of excitement. + +"Why don't you applaud, child?" + +"Oh, mother," was all the girl could say, with heaving breast and +downcast eyes. + + + + +X + +All winter long that face seemed to get between Philip and his work. It +was an inspiration to his pen when it ran in the way of literature, but a +distinct damage to progress in his profession. He had seen Evelyn again, +more than once, at the opera, and twice been excited by a passing glimpse +of her on a crisp, sunny afternoon in the Mavick carriage in the Park- +always the same bright, eager face. So vividly personal was the +influence upon him that it seemed impossible that she should not be aware +of it--impossible that she could not know there was such a person in the +world as Philip Burnett. + +Fortunately youth can create its own world. Between the secluded +daughter of millions and the law clerk was a great gulf, but this did not +prevent Evelyn's face, and, in moments of vanity, Evelyn herself, from +belonging to Philip's world. He would have denied--we have a habit of +lying to ourselves quite as much as to others--that he ever dreamed of +possessing her, but nevertheless she entered into his thoughts and his +future in a very curious way. If he saw himself a successful lawyer, her +image appeared beside him. If his story should gain the public +attention, and his occasional essays come to be talked of, it was +Evelyn's interest and approval that he caught himself thinking about. +And he had a conviction that she was one to be much more interested in +him as a man of letters than as a lawyer. This might be true. In +Philip's story, which was very slowly maturing, the heroine fell in love +with a young man simply for himself, and regardless of the fact that he +was poor and had his career to make. But he knew that if his novel ever +got published the critics would call it a romance, and not a transcript +of real life. Had not women ceased to be romantic and ceased to indulge +in vagaries of affection? + +Was it that Philip was too irresolute to cut either law or literature, +and go in, single-minded, for a fortune of some kind, and a place? +Or was it merely that he had confidence in the winning character of his +own qualities and was biding his time? If it was a question of making +himself acceptable to a woman--say a woman like Evelyn--was it not +belittling to his own nature to plan to win her by what he could make +rather than by what he was? + +Probably the vision he had of Evelyn counted for very little in his +halting decision. "Why don't you put her into a novel?" asked Mr. Brad +one evening. The suggestion was a shock. Philip conveyed the idea +pretty plainly that he hadn't got so low as that yet. "Ah, you fellows +think you must make your own material. You are higher-toned than old +Dante." The fact was that Philip was not really halting. Every day he +was less and less in love with the law as it was practiced, and, courting +reputation, he would much rather be a great author than a great lawyer. +But he kept such thoughts to himself. He had inherited a very good stock +of common-sense. Apparently he devoted himself to his office work, and +about the occupation of his leisure hours no one was in his confidence +except Celia, and now and then, when he got something into print, Alice. +Professedly Celia was his critic, but really she was the necessary +appreciator, for probably most writers would come to a standstill if +there was no sympathetic soul to whom they could communicate, while they +were fresh, the teeming fancies of their brains. + +The winter wore along without any incident worth recording, but still +fruitful for the future, as Philip fondly hoped. And one day chance +threw in his way another sensation. Late in the afternoon of a spring +day he was sent from the office to Mavick's house with a bundle of papers +to be examined and signed. + +"You will be pretty sure to find him," said Mr. Sharp, "at home about +six. Wait till you do see him. The papers must be signed and go to +Washington by the night mail." + +Mr. Mavick was in his study, and received Philip very civilly, as the +messenger of his lawyers, and was soon busy in examining the documents, +flinging now and then a short question to Philip, who sat at the table +near him. + +Suddenly there was a tap at the door, and, not waiting for a summons, a +young girl entered, and stopped after a couple of steps. + +"Oh, I didn't know--" + +"What is it, dear?" said Mr. Mavick, looking up a moment, and then down +at the papers. + +"Why, about the coachman's baby. I thought perhaps--" She had a paper in +her hand, and advanced towards the table, and then stopped, seeing that +her father was not alone. + +Philip rose involuntarily. Mr. Mavick looked up quickly. "Yes, +presently. I've just now got a little business with Mr. Burnett." + +It was not an introduction. But for an instant the eyes of the young +people met. It seemed to Philip that it was a recognition. Certainly +the full, sweet eyes were bent on him for the second she stood there, +before turning away and leaving the room. And she looked just as true +and sweet as Philip dreamed she would look at home. He sat in a kind of +maze for the quarter of an hour while Mavick was affixing his signature +and giving some directions. He heard all the directions, and carried +away the papers, but he also carried away something else unknown to the +broker. After all, he found himself reflecting, as he walked down the +avenue, the practice of the law has its good moments! + +What was there in this trivial incident that so magnified it in Philip's +mind, day after day? Was it that he began to feel that he had +established a personal relation with Evelyn because she had seen him? +Nothing had really happened. Perhaps she had not heard his name, perhaps +she did not carry the faintest image of him out of the room with her. +Philip had read in romances of love at first sight, and he had personal +experience of it. Commonly, in romances, the woman gives no sign of it, +does not admit it to herself, denies it in her words and in her conduct, +and never owns it until the final surrender. "When was the first moment +you began to love me, dear?" "Why, the first moment, that day; didn't +you know it then?" This we are led to believe is common experience with +the shy and secretive sex. It is enough, in a thousand reported cases, +that he passed her window on horseback, and happened to look her way. +But with such a look! The mischief was done. But this foundation was +too slight for Philip to build such a hope on. + +Looking back, we like to trace great results to insignificant, momentary +incidents--a glance, a word, that turned the current of a life. There +was a definite moment when the thought came to Alexander that he would +conquer the world! Probably there was no such moment. The great +Alexander was restless, and at no initial instant did he conceive his +scheme of conquest. Nor was it one event that set him in motion. We +confound events with causes. It happened on such a day. Yes, but it +might have happened on another. But if Philip had not been sent on that +errand to Mavick probably Evelyn would never have met him. What nonsense +this is, and what an unheroic character it makes Philip! Is it +supposable that, with such a romance as he had developed about the girl, +he would not some time have come near her, even if she had been locked up +with all the bars and bolts of a safety deposit? + +The incident of this momentary meeting was, however, of great +consequence. There is no such feeder of love as the imagination. +And fortunate it was for Philip that his romance was left to grow in the +wonder-working process of his own mind. At first there had been merely a +curiosity in regard to a person whose history and education had been +peculiar. Then the sight of her had raised a strange tumult in his +breast, and his fancy began to play about her image, seen only at a +distance and not many times, until his imagination built up a being of +surpassing loveliness, and endowed with all the attractions that the +poets in all ages have given to the sex that inspires them. But this +sort of creation in the mind becomes vague, and related to literature +only, unless it is sustained by some reality. Even Petrarch must +occasionally see Laura at the church door, and dwell upon the veiled +dreamer that passed and perhaps paused a moment to regard him with sad +eyes. Philip, no doubt, nursed a genuine passion, which grew into an +exquisite ideal in the brooding of a poetic mind, but it might in time +have evaporated into thin air, remaining only as an emotional and +educational experience. But this moment in Mr. Mavick's library had +given a solid body to his imaginations, and a more definite turn to his +thought of her. + +If, in some ordinary social chance, Philip had encountered the heiress, +without this previous wonderworking of his imagination in regard to her, +the probability is that he would have seen nothing especially to +distinguish her from the other girls of her age and newness in social +experience. Certainly the thought that she was the possessor of +uncounted millions would have been, on his side, an insuperable barrier +to any advance. But the imagination works wonders truly, and Philip saw +the woman and not the heiress. She had become now a distinct +personality; to be desired above all things on earth, and that he should +see her again he had no doubt. + +This thought filled his mind, and even when he was not conscious of it +gave a sort of color to life, refined his perceptions, and gave him +almost sensuous delight in the masterpieces of poetry which had formerly +appealed only to his intellectual appreciation of beauty. + +He had not yet come to a desire to share his secret with any confidant, +but preferred to be much alone and muse on it, creating a world which was +without evil, without doubt, undisturbed by criticism. In this so real +dream it was the daily office work that seemed unreal, and the company +and gossip of his club a kind of vain show. He began to frequent the +picture-galleries, where there was at least an attempt to express +sentiment, and to take long walks to the confines of the city-confines +fringed with all the tender suggestions of the opening spring. Even the +monotonous streets which he walked were illumined in his eyes, glorified +by the fullness of life and achievement. "Yes," he said again and again, +as he stood on the Heights, in view of the river, the green wall of +Jersey and the great metropolis spread away to the ocean gate, "it is a +beautiful city! And the critics say it is commonplace and vulgar." Dear +dreamer, it is a beautiful city, and for one reason and another a million +of people who have homes there think so. But take out of it one person, +and it would have for you no more interest than any other huge assembly +of ugly houses. How, in a lover's eyes, the woman can transfigure a +city, a landscape, a country! + +Celia had come up to town for the spring exhibitions, and was lodging at +the Woman's Club. Naturally Philip saw much of her, indeed gave her all +his time that the office did not demand. Her company was always for him +a keen delight, an excitement, and in its way a rest. For though she +always criticised, she did not nag, and just because she made no demands, +nor laid any claims on him, nor ever reproached him for want of devotion, +her society was delightful and never dull. They dined together at the +Woman's Club, they experimented on the theatres, they visited the +galleries and the picture-shops, they took little excursions into the +suburbs and came back impressed with the general cheapness and +shabbiness, and they talked--talked about all they saw, all they had +read, and something of what they thought. What was wanting to make this +charming camaraderie perfect? Only one thing. + +It may have occurred to Philip that Celia had not sufficient respect for +his opinions; she regarded them simply as opinions, not as his. + +One afternoon, in the Metropolitan Picture-Gallery, Philip had been +expressing enthusiasm for some paintings that Celia thought more +sentimental than artistic, and this reminded her that he was getting into +a general way of admiring everything. + +"You didn't use, Philip, to care so much for pictures." + +"Oh, I've been seeing more." + +"But you don't say you like that? Look at the drawing." + +"Well, it tells the story." + +"A story is nothing; it's the way it's told. This is not well told." + +"It pleases me. Look at that girl." + +"Yes, she is domestic. I admit that. But I'm not sure I do not prefer +an impressionistic girl, whom you can't half see, to such a thorough +bread-and-butter miss as this." + +"Which would you rather live with?" + +"I'm not obliged to live with either. In fact, I'd rather live with +myself. If it's art, I want art; if it's cooking and sewing, I want +cooking and sewing. If the artist knew enough, he'd paint a woman +instead of a cook." + +"Then you don't care for real life?" + +"Real life! There is no such thing. You are demonstrating that. You +transform this uninteresting piece of domesticity into an ideal woman, +ennobling her surroundings. She doesn't do it. She is level with them." + +"It would be a dreary world if we didn't idealize things." + +"So it would. And that is what I complain of in such 'art' as this. I +don't know what has got into you, Phil. I never saw you so exuberant. +You are pleased with everything. Have you had a rise in the office? +Have you finished your novel?" + +"Neither. No rise. No novel. But Tweedle is getting friendly. Threw +an extra job in my way the other day. Do you think I'd better offer my +novel, when it is done, to Tweedle?" + +"Tweedle, indeed!" + +"Well, one of our clients is one of the great publishing firms, and +Tweedle often dines with the publisher." + +"For shame, Phil!" + +Philip laughed. "At any rate, that is no meaner than a suggestion of +Brad's. He says if I will just weave into it a lot of line scenery, and +set my people traveling on the great trunk, stopping off now and then at +an attractive branch, the interested railroads would gladly print it and +scatter it all over the country." + +"No doubt," said Celia, sinking down upon a convenient seat. "I begin to +feel as if there were no protection for anything. And, Phil, that great +monster of a Mavick, who is eating up the country, isn't he a client +also?" + +"Occasionally only. A man like Mavick has his own lawyers and judges." + +"Did you ever see him?" + +"Just glimpses." + +"And that daughter of his, about whom such a fuss was made, I suppose you +never met her?" + +"Oh, as I wrote you, at the opera; saw her in her box." + +"And--?" + +"Oh, she's rather a little thing; rather dark, I told you that; seems +devoted to music." + +"And you didn't tell what she wore." + +"Why, what they all wear. Something light and rather fluffy." + +"Just like a man. Is she pretty?" + +"Ye-e-s; has that effect. You'd notice her eyes." If Philip had been +frank he would have answered, + +"I don't know. She's simply adorable," and Celia would have understood +all about it. + +"And probably doesn't know anything. Yes, highly educated? I heard +that. But I'm getting tired of 'highly educated'; I see so many of them. +I've been making them now for years. Perhaps I'm one of them. And where +am I? Don't interrupt. I tell you it is a relief to come across a +sweet, womanly ignoramus. What church does she go to?" + +"Who?" + +"That Mavick girl." + +"St. Thomas', I believe." + +"That's good--that's devotional. I suppose you go there too, being +brought up a Congregationalist?" + +"At vespers, sometimes. But, Celia, what is the matter with you? +I thought you didn't care--didn't care to belong to anything?" + +"I? I belong to everything. Didn't I write you reams about my studies +in psychology? I've come to one conclusion. There are only two persons +in the world who stand on a solid foundation, the Roman Catholic and the +Agnostic. The Roman Catholic knows everything, the Agnostic doesn't know +anything." + +Philip was never certain when the girl was bantering him; nor, when she +was in earnest, how long she would remain in that mind and mood. So he +ventured, humorously: + +"The truth is, Celia, that you know too much to be either. You are what +they call emancipated." + +"Emancipated!" And Celia sat up energetically, as if she were now really +interested in the conversation. "Become the slave of myself instead of +the slave of somebody else! That's the most hateful thing to be, +emancipated. I never knew a woman who said she was emancipated who +wasn't in some ridiculous folly or another. Now, Phil, I'm going to tell +you something. I can tell you. You know I've been striving to have a +career, to get out of myself somehow, and have a career for myself. +Well, today--mind, I don't say tomorrow"--(and there was a queer little +smile on her lips)--"I think I will just try to be good to people and +things in general, in a human way." + +"And give up education?" + +"No, no. I get my living by education, just as you do, or hope to do, by +law or by letters; it's all the same. But wait. I haven't finished what +I was going to say. The more I go into psychology, trying to find out +about my mind and mind generally, the more mysterious everything is. Do +you know, Phil, that I'm getting into the supernatural? You can't help +running into it. For me, I am not side-tracked by any of the nonsense +about magnetism and telepathy and mind-reading and other psychic +imponderabilities. Isn't it queer that the further we go into science +the deeper we go into mystery? + +Now, don't be shocked, I mean it reverently, just as an illustration. Do +you think any one knows really anything more about the operation in the +world of electricity than he does about the operation of the Holy Ghost? +And yet people talk about science as if it were something they had made +themselves." + +"But, Celia--" + +"No, I've talked enough. We are in this world and not in some other, and +I have to make my living. Let's go into the other room and see the old +masters. They, at least, knew how to paint--to paint passion and +character; some of them could paint soul. And then, Phil, I shall be +hungry. Talking about the mind always makes me hungry." + + + + +XI + +Philip was always welcome at his uncle's house in Rivervale. It was, of +course, his home during his college life, and since then he was always +expected for his yearly holiday. The women of the house made much of +him, waited on him, deferred to him, petted him, with a flattering +mingling of tenderness to a little boy and the respect due to a man who +had gone into the world. Even Mr. Maitland condescended to a sort of +equality in engaging Philip in conversation about the state of the +country and the prospects of business in New York. + +It was July. When Philip went to sleep at night--he was in the front +chamber reserved for guests--the loud murmur of the Deerfield was in his +ears, like a current bearing him away into sweet sleep and dreams in a +land of pleasant adventures. Only in youth come such dreams. Later on +the sophisticated mind, left to its own guidance in the night, wanders +amid the complexities of life, calling up in confusion scenes long +forgotten or repented of, images only registered by a sub-conscious +process, dreams to perplex, irritate, and excite. + +In the morning the same continuous murmur seemed to awake him into a +peaceful world. Through the open window came in the scents of summer, +the freshness of a new day. How sweet and light was the air! It was +indeed the height of summer. The corn, not yet tasseled, stood in green +flexible ranks, moved by the early breeze. In the river-meadows haying +had just begun. Fields of timothy and clover, yellowing to ripeness, +took on a fresh bloom from the dew, and there was an odor of new-mown +grass from the sections where the scythes had been. He heard the call of +the crow from the hill, the melody of the bobolink along the meadow- +brook; indeed, the birds of all sorts were astir, skimming along the +ground or rising to the sky, keeping watch especially over the garden and +the fruit-trees, carrying food to their nests, or teaching their young +broods to fly and to chirp the songs of summer. And from the woodshed +the shrill note of the scythe under the action of the grindstone. No +such vivid realization of summer as that. + +Philip stole out the unused front door without disturbing the family. +Whither? Where would a boy be likely to go the first thing? To the +barn, the great cavernous barn, its huge doors now wide open, the stalls +vacant, the mows empty, the sunlight sifting in through the high shadowy +spaces. How much his life had been in that barn! How he had stifled and +scrambled mowing hay in those lofts! On the floor he had hulled heaps of +corn, thrashed oats with a flail--a noble occupation--and many a rainy +day had played there with girls and boys who could not now exactly +describe the games or well recall what exciting fun they were. There +were the racks where he put the fodder for cattle and horses, and there +was the cutting-machine for the hay and straw and for slicing the frozen +turnips on cold winter mornings. + +In the barn-yard were the hens, just as usual, walking with measured +step, scratching and picking in the muck, darting suddenly to one side +with an elevated wing, clucking, chattering, jabbering endlessly about +nothing. They did not seem to mind him as he stood in the open door. +But the rooster, in his oriental iridescent plumage, jumped upon a fence- +post and crowed defiantly, in warning that this was his preserve. They +seemed like the same hens, yet Philip knew they were all strangers; all +the hens and flaunting roosters he knew had long ago gone to +Thanksgiving. The hen is, or should be, an annual. It is never made a +pet. It forms no attachments. Man is no better acquainted with the hen, +as a being, than he was when the first chicken was hatched. Its business +is to live a brief chicken life, lay, and be eaten. And this reminded +Philip that his real occupation was hunting hens' eggs. And this he did, +in the mows, in the stalls, under the floor-planks, in every hidden nook. +The hen's instinct is to be orderly, and have a secluded nest of her own, +and bring up a family. But in such a communistic body it is a wise hen +who knows her own chicken. Nobody denies to the hen maternal instincts +or domestic proclivities, but what an ill example is a hen community! + +And then Philip climbed up the hill, through the old grass-plot and the +orchard, to the rocks and the forest edge, and the great view. +It had more meaning to him than when he was a boy, and it was more +beautiful. In a certain peaceful charm, he had seen nothing anywhere in +the world like it. Partly this was because his boyish impressions, +the first fresh impressions of the visible world, came back to him; but +surely it was very beautiful. More experienced travelers than Philip +felt its unique charm. + +When he descended, Alice was waiting to breakfast with him. Mrs. +Maitland declared, with an approving smile on her placid, aging face, +that he was the same good-for-nothing boy. But Alice said, as she sat +down to the little table with Philip, "It is different, mother, with us +city folks." They were in the middle room, and the windows opened to the +west upon the river-meadows and the wooded hills beyond, and through one +a tall rose-bush was trying to thrust its fragrant bloom. + +What a dainty breakfast! Alice flushed with pleasure. It was so good of +him to come to them. Had he slept well? Did it seem like home at all? +Philip's face showed that it was home without the need of saying so. +Such coffee-yes, a real aroma of the berry! Just a little more, would he +have? And as Alice raised the silver pitcher, there was a deep dimple in +her sweet cheek. How happy she was! And then the butter, so fresh and +cool, and the delicious eggs--by the way, he had left a hatful in the +kitchen as he came in. Alice explained that she did not make the eggs. +And then there was the journey, the heat in the city, the grateful sight +of the Deerfield, the splendid morning, the old barn, the watering- +trough, the view from the hill everything just as it used to be. + +"Dear Phil, it is so nice to have you here," and there were tears in +Alice's eyes, she was so happy. + +After breakfast Philip strolled down the country road through the +village. How familiar was every step of the way!--the old houses jutting +out at the turns in the road; the glimpse of the river beyond the little +meadow where Captain Rice was killed; the spring under the ledge over +which the snap-dragon grew; the dilapidated ranks of fence smothered in +vines and fireweeds; the cottages, with flower-pots in front; the stores, +with low verandas ornamented with boxes and barrels; the academy in its +green on the hill; the old bridge over which the circus elephant dared +not walk; the new and the old churches, with rival steeples; and, not +familiar, the new inn. + +And he knew everybody, young and old, at doorways, in the fields or +gardens, and had for every one a hail and a greeting. How he enjoyed it +all, and his self-consciousness added to his pleasure, as he swung along +in his well-fitting city clothes, broad-shouldered and erect--it is +astonishing how much a tailor can do for a man who responds to his +efforts. It is a pleasure to come across such a hero as this in real +life, and not have to invent him, as the saying is, out of the whole +cloth. Philip enjoyed the world, and he enjoyed himself, because it was +not quite his old self, the farmer's boy going on an errand. There must +be knowledge all along the street that he was in the great law office of +Hunt, Sharp & Tweedle. And, besides, Philip's name must be known to all +the readers of magazines in the town as a writer, a name in more than one +list of "contributors." That was fame. Translated, however, into +country comprehension it was something like this, if he could have heard +the comments after he had passed by: + +"Yes, that's Phil Burnett, sure enough; but I'd hardly know him; spruced +up mightily. I wonder what he's at?" + +"I heard he was down in New York trying to law it. I heard he's been +writin' some for newspapers. Accordin' to his looks, must pay a durn +sight better'n farmin'." + +"Well, I always said that boy wa'n't no skeezics." + +Almost the first question Philip asked Alice on his return was about the +new inn, the Peacock Inn. + +"There seemed a good deal of stir about it as I passed." + +"Why, I forgot to tell you about it. It's the great excitement. +Rivervale is getting known. The Mavicks are there. I hear they've taken +pretty much the whole of it." + +"The Mavicks? + +"Yes, the New York Mavicks, that you wrote us about, that were in the +paper." + +"How long have they been there?" + +"A week. There is Mrs. Mavick and her daughter, and the governess, and +two maids, and a young fellow in uniform--yes, livery--and a coachman in +the same, and a stableful of horses and carriages. It upset the village +like a circus. And they say there's a French chef in white cap and +apron, who comes to the side-door and jabbers to the small boys like +fireworks." + +"How did it come about?" + +"Naturally, I guess; a city family wanting a quiet place for summer in +the country. But you will laugh. Patience first discovered it. One +day, sitting at the window, she saw a two-horse buggy driven by the +landlord of the Peacock, and a gentleman by his side. 'Well, I wonder +who that is-city man certainly. And wherever is he going? May be a +railroad man. But there is nothing the matter with the railroad. +Shouldn't wonder if he is going to see the tunnel. If it was just that, +the landlord wouldn't drive him; he'd send a man. And they keep stopping +and pointing and looking round. No, it isn't the railroad, it's scenery. +And what can a man like that want with scenery? + +He does look like a railroad man. It may be tunnel, but it isn't all +tunnel.' When the team came back in the afternoon, Patience was again at +the window; she had heard meantime from Jabez that a city man was +stopping at the Peacock. 'There he goes, and looking round more than +ever. They've stopped by the bridge and the landlord is pointing out. +It's not tunnel, it's scenery. I tell you, he is a city boarder. +Not that he cares about scenery; it's for his family. City families are +always trying to find a grand new place, and he has heard of Rivervale +and the Peacock Inn. Maybe the tunnel had something to do with it."' + +"Why, it's like second sight." + +"No, Patience says it's just judgment. And she generally hits it. +At any rate, the family is here." + +The explanation of their being there--it seemed to Philip providential-- +was very simple. Mr. Mavick had plans about the Hoosac Tunnel that +required him to look at it. Mrs. Mavick took advantage of this to +commission him to look at a little inn in a retired village of which she +had heard, and to report on scenery and climate. Warm days and cool +nights and simplicity was her idea. Mavick reported that the place +seemed made for the family. + +Evelyn was not yet out, but she was very nearly out, and after the late +notoriety Mrs. Mavick dreaded the regular Newport season. And, in the +mood of the moment, she was tired of the Newport palace. She always said +that she liked simplicity--a common failing among people who are not +compelled to observe it. Perhaps she thought she was really fond of +rural life and country ways. As she herself said, + +"If you have a summer cottage at Newport or Lenox, it is necessary to go +off somewhere and rest." And then it would be good for Evelyn to live +out-of-doors and see the real country, and, as for herself, as she looked +in the mirror, "I shall drink milk and go to bed early. Henderson used +to say that a month in New Hampshire made another woman of me." + +Oh, to find a spot where we could be undisturbed, alone and unknown. +That was the program. But Carmen simply could not be anywhere content if +she were unnoticed. It was not so easy to give up daily luxury, and +habits of ease at the expense of attendants, or the ostentation which had +become a second nature. Therefore the "establishment" went along with +her to Rivervale, and the shy, modest little woman, who had dropped down +into the country simplicity that she so dearly loved, greatly enjoyed the +sensation that her coming produced. It needed no effort on her part to +produce the sensation. The carriage, and coachman and footman in livery, +would have been sufficient; and then the idea of one family being rich +enough to take the whole hotel! + +The liveries, the foreign cook in his queer cap and apron, and all the +goings-on at the Peacock were the inexhaustible topic of talk in every +farmhouse for ten miles around. Rivervale was a self-respecting town, +and principled against luxury and self-indulgence, and judged with a just +and severe judgment the world of fashion and of the grasping, wicked +millionaires. And now this world with all its vain show had plumped down +in the midst of them. Those who had traveled and seen the ostentation of +cities smiled a superior smile at the curiosity and wonder exhibited, but +even those who had never seen the like were cautious about letting their +surprise appear. Especially in the presence of fashion and wealth would +the independent American citizen straighten his backbone, reassuring +himself that he was as good as anybody. To be sure, people flew to +windows when the elegant equipage dashed by, and everybody found frequent +occasion to drive or walk past the Peacock Inn. It was only the novelty +of it, in a place that rather lacked novelties. + +And yet there prevailed in the community a vague sense that millions were +there, and a curious expectation of some individual benefit from them. +All the young berry-pickers were unusually active, and poured berries +into the kitchen door of the inn. There was not a housewife who was not +a little more anxious about the product of her churning; not a farmer who +did not think that perhaps cord-wood would rise, that there would be a +better demand for garden "sass," and more market for chickens, and who +did not regard with more interest his promising colt. When he drove to +the village his rig was less shabby and slovenly in appearance. The +young fellows who prided themselves upon a neat buggy and a fast horse +made their turnouts shine, and dashed past the inn with a self-conscious +air. Even the stores began to "slick up" and arrange their miscellaneous +notions more attractively, and one of them boldly put in a window a +placard, "Latest New York Style." When the family went to the +Congregational church on Sunday not the slightest notice was taken of +them--though every woman could have told to the last detail what the +ladies wore--but some of the worshipers were for the first time a little +nervous about the performance of the choir, and the deacons heard the +sermon chiefly with reference to what a city visitor would think of it. + +Mrs. Mavick was quite equal to the situation. In the church she was +devout, in the village she was affable and friendly. She made +acquaintances right and left, and took a simple interest in everybody and +everything. She was on easy terms with the landlord, who declared, +"There is a woman with no nonsense in her." She chatted with the farmers +who stopped at the inn door, she bought things at the stores that she did +not want, and she speedily discovered Aunt Hepsy, and loved to sit with +her in the little shop and pick up the traditions and the gossip of the +neighborhood. And she did not confine her angelic visits to the village. +On one pretense and another she made her way into every farmhouse that +took her fancy, penetrated the kitchens and dairies, and got, as she told +McDonald, into the inner life of the people. + +She must see the grave of Captain Moses Rice. And on this legitimate +errand she one day carried her fluttering attractiveness and patchouly +into the Maitland house. Mrs. Maitland was civil, but no more. Alice +was civil but reserved--a great many people, she said, came to see the +graves in the old orchard. But Mrs. Mavick was not a bit abashed. She +expressed herself delighted with everything. It was such a rest, such a +perfectly lovely country, and everybody was so hospitable! And Aunt +Hepsy had so interested her in the history of the region! But it was +difficult to get her talk responded to. + +However, when Miss Patience came in she made better headway. She had +heard so much of Miss Maitland's apartments. She herself was interested +in decorations. She had tried to do something in her New York home. But +there were so many ideas and theories, and it was so hard to be natural +and artificial at the same time. She had no doubt she could get some new +ideas from Miss Maitland. Would it be asking too much to see her +apartments? She really felt like a stranger nowhere in Rivervale. +Patience was only too delighted, and took her into her museum of natural +history, art, religion, and vegetation. + +"She might have gone to the grave-yard without coming into the house," +Alice remarked. + +"Oh, well," said her mother, "I think she is very amusing. You shouldn't +be so exclusive, Alice." + +"Mother, I do believe she paints." + +With Patience, Mrs. Mavick felt on surer ground. + +"How curious, how very curious and delightful it is! Such knowledge of +nature, such art in arrangement." + +"Oh, I just put them up," said Patience, "as I thought they ought by +rights to be put up." + +"That's it. And you have combined everything here. You have given me an +idea. In our house we have a Japan room, and an Indian room, and a +Chinese room, and an Otaheite, and I don't know what--Egyptian, Greek, +and not one American, not a really American. That is, according to +American ideas, for you have everything in these two rooms. I shall +write to Mr. Mavick." (Mr. Mavick never received the letter.) + +When she came away it was with a profusion of thanks, and repeated +invitations to drop in at the inn. Alice accompanied her to the first +stone that marked the threshold of the side door, and was bowing her +away, when Mr. Philip swung over the fence by the wood-shed, with a shot- +gun on his shoulder, and swinging in his left hand a gray squirrel by its +bushy tail, and was immediately in front of the group. + +"Ah!" involuntarily from Mrs. Mavick. An introduction was inevitable. + +"My cousin, Mr. Burnett, Mrs. Mavick." Philip raised his cap and bowed. + +"A hunter, I see." + +"Hardly, madam. In vacations I like to walk in the woods with a gun." + +"Then you are not--" + +"No," said Philip, smiling, "unfortunately I cannot do this all the +time." + +"You are of the city, then?" + +"With the firm of Hunt, Sharp & Tweedle." + +"Ah, my husband knows them, I believe." + +"I have seen Mr. Mavick," and Philip bowed again. + +"How lucky!" + +Mrs. Mavick had an eye for a fine young fellow--she never denied that +--and Philip's manly figure and easy air were not lost on her. Presently +she said: + +"We are here for a good part of the summer. Mr. Mavick's business keeps +him in the city and we have to poke about a good deal alone. Now, Miss +Alice, I am so glad I have met your cousin. Perhaps he will show us some +of the interesting places and the beauties of the country he knows so +well." And she looked sideways at Philip. + +"Yes, he knows the country," said Alice, without committing herself. + +"I am sure I shall be delighted to do what I can for you whenever you +need my services," said Philip, who had reasons for wishing to know the +Mavicks which Alice did not share. + +"That's so good of you! Excursions, picnics oh, we will arrange. +You must come and help me arrange. And I hope," with a smile to Alice, +"you can persuade your cousin to join us sometimes." + +Alice bowed, they all bowed, and Mrs. Mavick said au revoir, and went +swinging her parasol down the driveway. Then she turned and called back, +"This is the first long walk I have taken." And then she said to +herself, "Rather stiff, except the young man and the queer old maid. But +what a pretty girl the younger must have been ten years ago! These +country flowers!" + + + +XII + +Mrs. Mavick thought herself fortunate in finding, in the social +wilderness of Rivervale, such a presentable young gentleman as Philip. +She had persuaded herself that she greatly enjoyed her simple intercourse +with the inhabitants, and she would have said that she was in deep +sympathy with their lives. No doubt in New York she would relate her +summer adventures as something very amusing, but for the moment this +adaptable woman seemed to herself in a very ingenuous, receptive, and +sympathetic state of mind. Still, there was a limit to the entertaining +power of Aunt Hepsy, which was perceived when she began to repeat her +annals of the neighborhood, and to bring forward again and again the +little nuggets of wisdom which she had evolved in the small circle of her +experience. And similarly Mrs. Mavick became aware that there was a +monotony in the ideas brought forward by the farmers and the farmers' +wives, whether in the kitchen or the best room, which she lighted up by +her gracious presence, that it was possible to be tired of the most +interesting "peculiarities" when once their novelty was exhausted, and +that so-called "characters" in the country fail to satisfy the +requirements of intimate or long companionship. Their world is too +narrowly circumscribed. + +The fact that Philip was a native of the place, and so belonged to a +world that was remote from her own, made her free to seek his aid in +making the summer pass agreeably without incurring any risk of social +obligations. Besides, when she had seen more of him, she experienced a +good deal of pleasure in his company. His foreign travel, his reading, +his life in the city, offered many points of mutual interest, and it was +a relief to her to get out of the narrow range of topics in the +provincial thought, and to have her allusions understood. Philip, on his +part, was not slow to see this, or to perceive that in the higher +intellectual ranges, the serious topics which occupied the attention of +the few cultivated people in the neighborhood, Mrs. Mavick had little +interest or understanding, though there was nothing she did not profess +an interest in when occasion required. Philip was not of a suspicious +nature, and it may not have occurred to him that Mrs. Mavick was simply +amusing herself, as she would do with any agreeable man, young or old, +who fell in her way, and would continue to do so if she reached the age +of ninety. + +On the contrary, it never seemed to occur to Mrs. Mavick, who was +generally suspicious, that Philip was making himself agreeable to the +mother of Evelyn. In her thought Evelyn was still a child, in leading- +strings, and would be till she was formally launched, and the social gulf +between the great heiress and the law clerk and poor writer was simply +impassable. All of which goes to show that the most astute women are not +always the wisest. + +To one person in Rivervale the coming of Mrs. Mavick and her train of +worldliness was unwelcome. It disturbed the peaceful simplicity of the +village, and it was likely to cloud her pleasure in Philip's visit. She +felt that Mrs. Mavick was taking him away from the sweet serenity of +their life, and that in everything she said or did there was an element +of unrest and excitement. She was careful, however, not to show any of +this apprehension to Philip; she showed it only by an increased +affectionate interest in him and his concerns, and in trying to make the +old home more dear to him. Mrs. Mavick was loud in her praise of Alice +to her cousin, and sought to win her confidence, but she was, after all, +a little shy of her, and probably would have characterized her to a city +friend as a sort of virgin in the Bible. + +It so happened that day after day went by without giving Philip anything +more than passing glimpses of Evelyn, when she was driving with her +mother or her governess. Yet Rivervale never seemed so ravishingly +beautiful to all his senses. Surely it was possessed by a spirit of +romance and poetry, which he had never perceived before, and he wasted a +good deal of time in gazing on the river, on the gracious meadows, on the +graceful contours of the hills. When he was a lad, in the tree-top, +there had been something stimulating and almost heroic in the scene, +which awakened his ambition. Now it was the idyllic beauty that took +possession of him, transformed as it was by the presence of a woman, +that supreme interpreter of nature to a youth. And yet scarcely a +woman--rather a vision of a girl, impressible still to all the influences +of such a scene and to the most delicate suggestions of unfolding life. +Probably he did not analyze this feeling, but it was Evelyn he was +thinking of when he admired the landscape, breathed with exhilaration the +fresh air, and watched the white clouds sail along the blue vault; and he +knew that if she were suddenly to leave the valley all the light would go +out of it and the scene would be flat to his eyes and torturing to his +memory. + +Mrs. Mavick he encountered continually in the village. He had taken many +little strolls with her to this or that pretty point of view, they had +exchanged reminiscences of foreign travel, and had dipped a little into +current popular books, so that they had come to be on easy, friendly +terms. Philip's courtesy and deference, and a certain wit and humor of +suggestion applied to ordinary things, put him more and more on a good +footing with her, so much so that she declared to McDonald that really +young Burnett was a genuine "find" in the country. + +It seems a pity that the important events in our lives are so +commonplace. Philip's meeting with Evelyn, so long thought of and +dramatized in his mind, was not in the least as he had imagined it. When +one morning he went to the Peacock Inn at the summons of Mrs. Mavick, in +order to lay out a plan of campaign, he found Evelyn and her governess +seated on the veranda, with their books. It was Evelyn who rose first +and came forward, without, so far as Philip could see, the least +embarrassment of recognition. + +"Mr. Burnett? Mamma will be here in a moment. This is our friend, Miss +McDonald." + +The girl's morning costume was very simple, and in her short walking- +skirt she seemed younger even than in the city. She spoke and moved-- +Philip noticed that--without the least self-consciousness, and she had a +way of looking her interlocutor frankly in the eyes, or, as Philip +expressed it, "flashing" upon him. + +Philip bowed to the governess, and, still standing and waving his hand +towards the river, hoped they liked Rivervale, and then added: + +"I see you can read in the country." + +"We pretend to," said Evelyn, who had resumed her seat and indicated a +chair for Philip, "but the singing of that river, and the bobolinks in +the meadow, and the light on the hills are almost too much for us. Don't +you think, McDonald, it is like Scotland?" + +"It would be," the governess replied, "if it rained when it didn't mist, +and there were moors and heather, and--" + +"Oh, I didn't mean all that, but a feeling like that, sweet and retired +and sort of lonesome?" + +"Perhaps Miss McDonald means," said Philip, "that there isn't much to +feel here except what you see." + +Miss McDonald looked sharply around at Philip and remarked: "Yes, that's +just it. It is very lovely, like almost any outdoors, if you will give +yourself up to it. You remember, Evelyn, how fascinating the Arizona +desert was? But there was a romantic addition to the colored desolation +because the Spaniards and the Jesuits had been there. Now this place +lacks traditions, legends, romance. You have to bring your romance with +you." + +"And that is the reason you read here?" + +"One reason. Especially romances. This charming scenery and the summer +sounds of running water and birds make a nice accompaniment to the +romance." + +"But mamma says," Evelyn interrupted, "there is plenty of legend here, +and tradition and flavor, Indians and early settlers, and even Aunt +Hepsy." + +"Well, I confess they don't appeal to me. And as for Indians, Parkman's +descriptions of those savages made me squirm. And I don't believe there +was much more romance about the early settlers than about their +descendants. Isn't it true, Mr. Burnett, that you must have a human +element to make any country interesting?" + +Philip glanced at Evelyn, whose bright face was kindled with interest in +the discussion, and thought, "Good heavens! if there is not human +interest here, I don't know where to look for it," but he only said: + +"Doubtless." + +"And why don't you writers do something about it? It is literature that +does it, either in Scotland or Judea." + +"Well," said Philip, stoutly, "they are doing something. I could name +half a dozen localities, even sections of country, that travelers visit +with curiosity just because authors have thrown that glamour over them. +But it is hard to create something out of nothing. It needs time." + +"And genius," Miss McDonald interjected. + +"Of course, but it took time to transform a Highland sheep-stealer into a +romantic personage." + +Miss McDonald laughed. "That is true. Take a modern instance. Suppose +Evangeline had lived in this valley! Or some simple Gretchen about whose +simple story all the world is in sympathy!" + +"Or," thought Philip, "some Evelyn." But he replied, looking at Evelyn, +"I believe that any American community usually resents being made the +scene of a romance, especially if it is localized by any approach to +reality." + +"Isn't that the fault mostly of the writer, who vulgarizes his material?" + +"The realists say no. They say that people dislike to see themselves as +they are." + +"Very likely," said Miss McDonald; "no one sees himself as others see +him, and probably the poet who expressed the desire to do so was simply +attitudinizing. --[Robert Burns: "Oh! wha gift the Giftie gie us; to see +o'rselves as others see us. D.W.]-- By the way, Mr. Burnett, you know +there is one place of sentiment, religious to be sure, not far from here. +I hope we can go some day to see the home of the 'Mountain Miller.'" + +"Yes, I know the place. It is beyond the river, up that steep road +running into the sky, in the next adjoining hill town. I doubt if you +find any one there who lays it much to heart. But you can see the mill." + +"What is the Mountain Miller?" asked Evelyn. + +"A tract that, when I was a girl," answered Miss McDonald, "used to be +bound up with 'The Dairyman's Daughter' and 'The Shepherd of Salisbury +Plain.' It was the first thing that interested me in New England." + +"Well," said Philip, "it isn't much. Just a tract. But it was written +by Parson Halleck, a great minister and a sort of Pope in this region for +fifty years. It is, so far as I know, the only thing of his that +remains." + +This tractarian movement was interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Mavick. + +"Good-morning, Mr. Burnett. I've been down to see Jenkins about his +picnic wagon. Carries six, besides the driver and my man, and the +hampers. So, you see, Miss Alice will have to go. We couldn't go +rattling along half empty. I'll go up and see her this afternoon. +So, that's settled. Now about the time and place. You are the director. +Let's sit down and plan it out. It looks like good weather for a week." + +"Miss McDonald says she wants to see the Mountain Miller," said Philip, +with a smile. + +"What's that? A monument like your Pulpit Rock?" + +"No, a tract about a miller." + +"Ah, something religious. I never heard of it. Well, perhaps we had +better begin with something secular, and work round to that." + +So an excursion was arranged for the next day. And as Philip walked +home, thinking how brilliant Evelyn had been in their little talk, +he began to dramatize the excursion. + +All excursions are much alike, exhilarating in the outset, rarely up to +expectation in the object, wearisome in the return; but, nevertheless, +delightful in the memory, especially if attended with some hardship or +slight disaster. To be free, in the open air, and for a day +unconventional and irresponsible, is the sufficient justification of a +country picnic; but its common attraction is in the opportunity for +bringing young persons of the opposite sex into natural and unrestrained +relations. To Philip it was the first time in his life that a picnic had +ever seemed a defensible means of getting rid of a day. + +The two persons to whom this excursion was most novel and exciting were +Evelyn and the elder maiden, Alice, who sat together and speedily +developed a sympathy with each other in the enjoyment of the country, and +in a similar poetic temperament, very shy on the part of Alice and very +frank on the part of Evelyn. The whole wild scene along the river was +quite as novel to Alice as to the city girl, because, although she was +familiar with every mile of it and had driven through it a hundred times, +she had never in all her life before, of purpose, gone to see it. No +doubt she had felt its wildness and beauty, but now for the first time +she looked at it as scenery, as she might have looked at a picture in a +gallery. And in the contagion of Evelyn's outspoken enthusiasm she was +no longer afraid to give timid expression to the latent poetry in her own +soul. And daring to express this, she seemed to herself for the first +time to realize vividly the nobility and grace of the landscape. And yet +there was a difference in the appreciation of the two. More widely read +and traveled, Evelyn's imagination took a wider range of comparison and +of admiration, she was appealed to by the large features and the +grandiose effects; while Alice noted more the tenderer aspects, the +wayside flowers and bushes, the exotic-looking plants, which she longed +to domesticate in what might be called the Sunday garden on the terraces +in front of her house. For it is in these little cultivated places by +the door-step, places of dreaming in the summer hours after meeting and +at sunset, that the New England maiden experiences something of that +tender religious sentiment which was not much fed in the barrenness of +the Congregational meeting-house. + +The Pulpit Rock, in the rough pasture land of Zoar, was reached by a +somewhat tedious climb from the lonely farmhouse, in a sheltered nook, +through straggling woods and gray pastures. It was a vast exposed +surface rising at a slight angle out of the grass and undergrowth. Along +the upper side was a thin line of bushes, and, pushing these aside, the +observer was always startled at the unexpected scene--as it were the +raising of a curtain upon another world. He stood upon the edge of a +sheer precipice of a thousand feet, and looked down upon a green +amphitheatre through the bottom of which the brawling river, an amber +thread in the summer foliage, seemed trying to get an outlet from this +wilderness cul de sac. From the edge of this precipice the first impulse +was to start back in surprise and dread, but presently the observer +became reassured of its stability, and became fascinated by the lonesome +wildness of the scene. + +"Why is it called Pulpit Rock?" asked Mrs. Mavick; "I see no pulpit." + +"I suppose," said Philip, "the name was naturally suggested to a +religious community, whose poetic images are mainly Biblical, and who +thought it an advantageous place for a preacher to stand, looking down +upon a vast congregation in the amphitheatre." + +"So it is," exclaimed Evelyn. "I can see John the Baptist standing here +now, and hear his voice crying in the wilderness." + +"Very likely," said Mrs. Mavick, persisting in her doubt, "of course in +Zoar. Anywhere else in the world it would be called the Lover's Leap." + +"That is odd," said Alice; "there was a party of college girls came here +two years ago and made up a story about it which was printed, how an +Indian maiden pursued by a white man ran up this hill as if she had been +a deer, disappeared from his sight through these bushes, and took the +fatal leap. They called it the Indian Maiden's Rock. But it didn't +take. It will always be Pulpit Rock." + +"So you see, Miss McDonald," said Philip, "that writers cannot graft +legends on the old stock." + +"That depends upon the writer," returned the Scotch woman, shortly. "I +didn't see the schoolgirl's essay." + +When the luncheon was disposed of, with the usual adaptation to nomadic +conditions, and the usual merriment and freedom of personal comment, and +the wit that seems so brilliant in the open air and so flat in print, +Mrs. Mavick declared that she was tired by the long climb and the unusual +excitement. + +"Perhaps it is the Pulpit," she said, "but I am sleepy; and if you young +people will amuse yourselves, I will take a nap under that tree." + +Presently, also, Alice and the governess withdrew to the edge of the +precipice, and Evelyn and Philip were left to the burden of entertaining +each other. It might have been an embarrassing situation but for the +fact that all the rest of the party were in sight, that the girl had not +the least self-consciousness, having had no experience to teach her that +there was anything to be timid about in one situation more than in +another, and that Philip was so absolutely content to be near Evelyn +and hear her voice that there was room for nothing else in his thought. +But rather to his surprise, Evelyn made no talk about the situation +or the day, but began at once with something in her mind, a directness +of mental operation that he found was characteristic of her. + +"It seems to me, Mr. Burnett, that there is something of what Miss +McDonald regards as the lack of legend and romance in this region in our +life generally." + +"I fancy everybody feels that who travels much elsewhere. You mean life +seems a little thin, as the critics say?" + +"Yes, lacks color and background. But, you see, I have no experience. +Perhaps it's owing to Miss McDonald. I cannot get the plaids and tartans +and Jacobins and castles and what-not out of my head. Our landscapes are +just landscapes." + +"But don't you think we are putting history and association into them +pretty fast?" + +"Yes, I know, but that takes a long time. I mean now. Take this lovely +valley and region, how easily it could be made romantic." + +"Not so very easy, I fancy." + +"Well, I was thinking about it last night." And then, as if she saw a +clear connection between this and what she was going to say, "Miss +McDonald says, Mr. Burnett, that you are a writer." + +"I? Why, I'm, I'm--a lawyer." + +"Of course, that's business. That reminds me of what papa said once: +'It's lucky there is so much law, or half the world, including the +lawyers, wouldn't have anything to do, trying to get around it and evade +it.' And you won't mind my repeating it--I was a mite of a girl--I said, +'Isn't that rather sophistical, papa?' And mamma put me down'--It seems +to me, child, you are using pretty big words.'" + +They both laughed. But suddenly Evelyn added: + +"Why don't you do it?" + +"Do what?" + +"Write a story about it--what Miss McDonald calls 'invest the region with +romance.'" + +The appeal was very direct, and it was enforced by those wonderful eyes +that seemed to Philip to discern his powers, as he felt them, and his +ambitions, and to express absolute confidence in him. His vanity was +touched in its most susceptible spot. Here seemed to be a woman, nay, a +soul, who understood him, understood him even better than Celia, the +lifelong confidante. It is a fatal moment for men and women, that in +which they feel the subtle flattery of being understood by one of the +opposite sex. Philip's estimation of himself rose 'pari passu' with his +recognition of the discernment and intellectual quality of the frank and +fascinating girl who seemed to believe in him. But he restrained himself +and only asked, after a moment of apparent reflection upon the general +proposition: + +"Well, Miss Mavick, you have been here some time. Have you discovered +any material for such use?" + +"Why, perhaps not, and I might not know what to do with it if I had. But +perhaps you don't mean what I mean. I mean something fitting the +setting. Not the domestic novel. Miss McDonald says we are vulgarized +in all our ideals by so much domesticity. She says that Jennie Deans +would have been just an ordinary, commonplace girl but for Walter Scott." + +"Then you want a romance?" + +"No. I don't know exactly what I do want. But I know it when I see it." +And Evelyn looked down and appeared to be studying her delicate little +hands, interlacing her taper, ivory fingers--but Philip knew she did not +see them--and then looked up in his face again and said: + +"I'll tell you. This morning as we came up I was talking all the way +with your cousin. It took some time to break the ice, but gradually she +began to say things, half stories, half poetic, not out of books; things +that, if said with assurance, in the city would be called wit. And then +I began to see her emotional side, her pure imagination, such a +refinement of appreciation and justice--I think there is an immovable +basis of justice in her nature--and charity, and I think she'd be heroic, +with all her gentleness, if occasion offered." + +"I see," said Philip, rather lightly, "that you improved your time in +finding out what a rare creature Alice is. But," and this more gravely, +"it would surprise her that you have found it out." + +"I believe you. I fancy she has not the least idea what her qualities +are, or her capacities of doing or of suffering, and the world will never +know--that is the point-unless some genius comes along and reveals them." + +"How?" + +"Why, through a tragedy, a drama, a story, in which she acts out her +whole self. Some act it out in society. She never will. Such sweetness +and strength and passion--yes, I have no doubt, passion under all the +reserve! I feel it but I cannot describe it; I haven't imagination to +make you see what I feel." + +"You come very near it," said Philip, with a smile. And after a moment +the girl broke out again: + +"Materials! You writers go searching all round for materials, just as +painters do, fit for your genius." + +"But don't you know that the hardest thing to do is the obvious, the +thing close to you?" + +"I dare say. But you won't mind? It is just an illustration. I went +the other day with mother to Alice's house. She was so sort of distant +and reserved that I couldn't know her in the least as I know her now. +And there was the rigid Puritan, her father, representing the Old +Testament; and her placid mother, with all the spirit of the New +Testament; and then that dear old maiden aunt, representing I don't know +what, maybe a blind attempt through nature and art to escape out of +Puritanism; and the typical old frame farmhouse--why, here is material +for the sweetest, most pathetic idyl. Yes, the Story of Alice. In +another generation people would come long distances to see the valley +where Alice lived, and her spirit would pervade it." + +There could be but one end to such a burst of enthusiasm, and both +laughed and felt a relief in a merriment that was, after all, +sympathetic. But Evelyn was a persistent creature, and presently she +turned to Philip, again with those appealing eyes. + +"Now, why don't you do it?" + +Philip hesitated a moment and betrayed some embarrassment under the +questioning of the truthful eyes. + +"I've a good mind to tell you. I have--I am writing something." + +"Yes?" + +"Not that exactly. I couldn't, don't you see, betray and use my own +relatives in that way." + +"Yes, I see that." + +"It isn't much. I cannot tell how it will come out. I tell you--I don't +mean that I have any right to ask you to keep it as a secret of mine, but +it is this way: If a writer gives away his imagination, his idea, before +it is fixed in form on paper, he seems to let the air of all the world +upon it and it disappears, and isn't quite his as it was before to grow +in his own mind." + +"I can understand that," Evelyn replied. + +"Well--" and Philip found himself launched. It is so easy to talk about +one's self to a sympathetic listener. He told Evelyn a little about his +life, and how the valley used to seem to him as a boy, and how it seemed +now that he had had experience of other places and people, and how his +studies and reading had enabled him to see things in their proper +relations, and how, finally, gradually the idea for a story in this +setting had developed in his mind. And then he sketched in outline +the story as he had developed it, and left the misty outlines of its +possibilities to the imagination. + +The girl listened with absorbing interest, and looked the approval which +she did not put in words. Perhaps she knew that a bud will never come to +flower if you pull it in pieces. When Philip had finished he had a +momentary regret for this burst of confidence, which he had never given +to any one else. But in the light of Evelyn's quick approval and +understanding, it was only momentary. Perhaps neither of them thought +what a dangerous game this is, for two young souls to thus unbosom +themselves to each other. + +A call from Mrs. Mavick brought them to their feet. It was time to go. +Evelyn simply said: + +"I think the valley, Mr. Burnett, looks a little different already." + +As they drove home along the murmuring river through the golden sunset, +the party were mostly silent. Only Mrs. Mavick and Philip, who sat +together, kept up a lively chatter, lively because Philip was elated with +the event of the day, and because the nap under the beech-tree in the +open air had brightened the wits of one of the cleverest women Philip had +ever met. + +If the valley did seem different to Evelyn, probably she did not think so +far as to own to herself whether this was owing to the outline of the +story, which ran in her mind, or to the presence of the young author. + +Alice and Philip were set down at the farmhouse, and the company parted +with mutual enthusiasm over the success of the excursion. + +"She is a much more interesting girl than I thought," Alice admitted. +"Not a bit fashionable." + +"And she likes you." + +"Me?" + +"Yes, your ears would have burned." + +"Well, I am glad, for I think she is sincere." + +"And I can tell you another thing. I had a long talk while you were +taking your siesta. She takes an abstract view of things, judging the +right and wrong of them, without reference to conventionalities or the +practical obstacles to carrying out her ideas, as if she had been +educated by reading and not by society. It is very interesting." + +"Philip," and Alice laid her hand on his shoulder, "don't let it be too +interesting." + + + + +XIII + +When Philip said that Evelyn was educated in the world of literature and +not in the conflicts of life he had hit the key-note of her condition at +the moment she was coming into the world and would have to act for +herself. The more he saw of her the more was he impressed with the fact +that her discrimination, it might almost be called divination, and her +judgment were based upon the best and most vital products of the human +mind. A selection had evidently been made for her, until she had +acquired the taste, or the habit rather, of choosing only the best for +herself. Very little of the trash of literature, or the ignoble--that is +to say, the ignoble view of life-- had come into her mind. Consequently +she judged the world as she came to know it by high standards. And her +mind was singularly pure and free from vulgar images. + +It might be supposed that this sort of education would have its +disadvantages. The word is firmly fixed in the idea that both for its +pleasure and profit it is necessary to know good and evil. Ignorance of +the evil in the world is, however, not to be predicated of those who are +familiar only with the great masterpieces of literature, for if they are +masterpieces, little or great, they exhibit human nature in all its +aspects. And, further than this, it ought to be demonstrable, a priori, +that a mind fed on the best and not confused by the weak and diluted, or +corrupted by images of the essentially vulgar and vile, would be morally +healthy and best fitted to cope with the social problems of life. The +Testaments reveal about everything that is known about human nature, but +such is their clear, high spirit, and their quality, that no one ever +traced mental degeneration or low taste in literature, or want of +virility in judgment, to familiarity with them. On the contrary, the +most vigorous intellects have acknowledged their supreme indebtedness to +them. + +It is not likely that Philip made any such elaborate analysis of the girl +with whom he was in love, or attempted, except by a general reference to +the method of her training, to account for the purity of her mind and her +vigorous discernment. He was in love with her more subtle and hidden +personality, with the girl just becoming a woman, with the mysterious sex +that is the inspiration of most of the poetry and a good part of the +heroism in the world. And he would have been in love with her, let her +education have been what it might. He was in love before he heard her +speak. And whatever she would say was bound to have a quality of +interest and attraction that could be exercised by no other lips. It +might be argued--a priori again, for the world is bound to go on in its +own way--that there would be fewer marriages if the illusion of the sex +did not suffice for the time to hide intellectual poverty, and, what is +worse, ignobleness of disposition. + +It was doubtless fortunate for this particular lovemaking, though it did +not seem so to Philip, that it was very much obstructed by lack of +opportunities, and that it was not impaired in its lustre by too much +familiarity. In truth, Philip would have said that he saw very little of +Evelyn, because he never saw her absolutely alone. To be sure he was +much in her presence, a welcome member of the group that liked to idle on +the veranda of the inn, and in the frequent excursions, in which Philip +seemed to be the companion of Mrs. Mavick rather than of her daughter. +But she was never absent from his thought, his imagination was wholly +captive to her image, and the passion grew in these hours of absence +until she became an indispensable associate in all that he was or could +ever hope to be. Alice, who discerned very clearly Mrs. Mavick and her +ambition, was troubled by Philip's absorption and the cruel +disappointment in store for him. To her he was still the little boy, and +all her tenderness for him was stirred to shield him from the suffering +she feared. + +But what could she do? Philip liked to talk about Evelyn, to dwell upon +her peculiarities and qualities, to hear her praised; to this extent he +was confidential with his cousin, but never in regard to his own feeling. +That was a secret concerning which he was at once too humble and too +confident to share with any other. None knew better than he the absurd +presumption of aspiring to the hand of such a great heiress, and yet he +nursed the vanity that no other man could ever appreciate and love her as +he did. + +Alice was still more distracted and in sympathy with Philip's evident +aspirations by her own love for Evelyn and her growing admiration for the +girl's character. It so happened that mutual sympathy--who can say how +it was related to Philip?--had drawn them much together, and chance had +given them many opportunities for knowing each other. Alice had so far +come out of her shell, and broken the reserve of her life, as to make +frequent visits at the inn, and Mrs. Mavick and Evelyn found it the most +natural and agreeable stroll by the river-side to the farmhouse, +where naturally, while the mother amused herself with the original +eccentricities of Patience, her daughter grew into an intimacy with +Alice. + +As for the feelings of Evelyn in these days--her first experience of +something like freedom in the world--the historian has only universal +experience to guide him. In her heart was working the consciousness that +she had been singled out as worthy to share the confidence of a man in +his most secret ambitions and aspirations, in the dreams of youth which +seemed to her so noble. For these aspirations and dreams concerned the +world in which she had lived most and felt most. + +If Philip had talked to her as he had to Celia about his plans for +success in life she would have been less interested. But there was +nothing to warn her personally in these unworldly confessions. Nor did +Philip ever seem to ask anything of her except sympathy in his ideas. +And then there was the friendship of Alice, which could not but influence +the girl. In the shelter of that the intercourse of the summer took on +natural relations. For some natures there is no nurture of love like the +security of family protection, under cover of which there is so little to +excite the alarm of a timid maiden. + +It was fortunate for Philip that Miss McDonald took a liking to him. +They were thrown much together. They were both good walkers, and liked +to climb the hills and explore the wild mountain streams. Philip would +have confessed that he was fond of nature, and fancied there was a sort +of superiority in his attitude towards it to that of his companion, who +was merely interested in plants-just a botanist. This attitude, which +she perceived, amused Miss McDonald. + +"If you American students," she said one day when they were seated on a +fallen tree in the forest, and she was expatiating on a rare plant she +had found, "paid no more attention to the classics than to the world you +live in, few of you would get a degree." + +"Oh, some fellows go in for that sort of thing," Philip replied. +"But I have noticed that all English women have some sort of fad--plants, +shells, birds, something special." + +"Fad!" exclaimed the Scotchwoman. "Yes, I suppose it is, if reading is a +fad. It is one way of finding out about things. You admire what the +Americans call scenery; we, since you provoke me to say it, love nature-- +I mean its individual, almost personal manifestations. Every plant has a +distinct character of its own. I saw the other day an American landscape +picture with a wild, uncultivated foreground. There was not a botanical +thing in it. The man who painted it didn't know a sweetbrier from a +thistle. + +Just a confused mass of rubbish. It was as if an animal painter should +compose a group and you could not tell whether it was made up of sheep or +rabbits or dogs or foxes or griffins." + +"So you want things picked out like a photograph?" + +"I beg your pardon, I want nature. You cannot give character to a bit of +ground in a landscape unless you know the characters of its details. A +man is no more fit to paint a landscape than a cage of monkeys, unless he +knows the language of the nature he is dealing with down to the alphabet. +The Japanese know it so well that they are not bothered with minutia, but +give you character." + +"And you think that science is an aid to art?" + +"Yes, if there is genius to transform it into art. You must know the +intimate habits of anything you paint or write about. You cannot even +caricature without that. They talk now about Dickens being just a +caricaturist. He couldn't have been that if he hadn't known the things +he caricatured. That is the reason there is so little good caricature." + +"Isn't your idea of painting rather anatomical?" Philip ventured to ask. + +"Do you think that if Raphael had known nothing of anatomy the world +would have accepted his Sistine Madonna for the woman she is?" was the +retort. + +"I see it is interesting," said Philip, shifting his ground again, "but +what is the real good of all these botanical names and classifications?" + +Miss McDonald gave a weary sigh. "Well, you must put things in order. +You studied philology in Germany? The chief end of that is to trace the +development, migration, civilization of the human race. To trace the +distribution of plants is another way to find out about the race. But +let that go. Don't you think that I get more pleasure in looking at all +the growing things we see, as we sit here, than you do in seeing them and +knowing as little about them as you pretend to?" + +Philip said that he could not analyze the degree of pleasure in such +things, but he seemed to take his ignorance very lightly. What +interested him in all this talk was that, in discovering the mind of the +governess, he was getting nearer to the mind of her pupil. And finally +he asked (and Miss McDonald smiled, for she knew what this conversation, +like all others with him, must ultimately come to): + +"Does the Mavick family also take to botany?" + +"Oh yes. Mrs. Mavick is intimate with all the florists in New York. And +Miss Evelyn, when I take home these specimens, will analyze them and tell +all about them. She is very sharp about such things. You must have +noticed that she likes to be accurate?" + +"But she is fond of poetry." + +"Yes, of poetry that she understands. She has not much of the emotional +vagueness of many young girls." + +All this was very delightful for Philip, and for a long time, on one +pretext or another, he kept the conversation revolving about this point. +He fancied he was very deep in doing this. To his interlocutor he was, +however, very transparent. And the young man would have been surprised +and flattered if he had known how much her indulgence of him in this talk +was due to her genuine liking for him. + +When they returned to the inn, Mrs. Mavick began to rally Philip about +his feminine taste in woodsy things. He would gladly have thrown botany +or anything else overboard to win the good opinion of Evelyn's mother, +but botany now had a real significance and a new meaning for him. +Therefore he put in a defense, by saying: + +"Botany, in the hands of Miss McDonald, cannot be called very feminine; +it is a good deal more difficult to understand and master than law." + +"Maybe that's the reason," said Mrs. Mavick, "why so many more girls are +eager to study law now than botany." + +"Law?" cried Evelyn; "and to practice?" + +"Certainly. Don't you think that a bright, clever woman, especially if +she were pretty, would have an advantage with judge and jury?" + +"Not if judge and jury were women," Miss McDonald interposed. + +"And you remember Portia?" Mrs. Mavick continued. + +"Portia," said Evelyn; "yes, but that is poetry; and, McDonald, wasn't it +a kind of catch? How beautifully she talked about mercy, but she turned +the sharp edge of it towards the Jew. I didn't like that." + +"Yes," Miss McDonald replied, "it was a kind of trick, a poet's law. +What do you say, Mr. Burnett?" + +"Why," said Philip, hesitating, "usually it is understood when a man buys +or wins anything that the appurtenances necessary to give him full +possession go with it. Only in this case another law against the Jew was +understood. It was very clever, nothing short of woman's wit." + +"Are there any women in your firm, Mr. Burnett?" asked Mrs. Mavick. + +"Not yet, but I think there are plenty of lawyers who would be willing to +take Portia for a partner." + +"Make her what you call a consulting partner. That is just the way with +you men--as soon as you see women succeeding in doing anything +independently, you head them off by matrimony." + +"Not against their wills," said the governess, with some decision. + +"Oh, the poor things are easily hypnotized. And I'm glad they are. The +funniest thing is to hear the Woman's Rights women talk of it as a state +of subjection," and Mrs. Mavick laughed out of her deep experience. + +"Rights, what's that?" asked Evelyn. + +"Well, child, your education has been neglected. Thank McDonald for +that." + +"Don't you know, Evelyn," the governess explained, "that we have always +said that women had a right to have any employment, or do anything they +were fitted to do?" + +"Oh, that, of course; I thought everybody said that. That is natural. +But I mean all this fuss. I guess I don't understand what you all are +talking about." And her bright face broke out of its look of perplexity +into a smile. + +"Why, poor thing," said her mother, "you belong to the down-trodden sex. +Only you haven't found it out." + +"But, mamma," and the girl seemed to be turning the thing over in her +mind, as was her wont with any new proposition, "there seem to be in +history a good many women who never found it out either." + +"It is not so now. I tell you we are all in a wretched condition." + +"You look it, mamma," replied Evelyn, who perfectly understood when her +mother was chaffing. + +"But I think I don't care so much for the lawyers," Mrs. Mavick +continued, with more air of conviction; "what I can't stand are the +doctors, the female doctors. I'd rather have a female priest about me +than a female doctor." + +This was not altogether banter, for there had been times in Carmen's +career when the externals of the Roman Church attracted her, and she +wished she had an impersonal confidant, to whom she could confess--well, +not everything-and get absolution. And she could make a kind of +confidant of a sympathetic doctor. But she went on: + +"To have a sharp woman prying into all my conditions and affairs ! No, +I thank you. Don't you think so, McDonald?" + +"They do say," the governess admitted, "that women doctors haven't as +much consideration for women's whims as men." And, after a moment, she +continued: + +"But, for all that, women ought to understand about women better than men +can, and be the best doctors for them." + +"So it seems to me," said Evelyn, appealing to her mother. "Don't you +remember that day you took me down to the infirmary in which you are +interested, and how nice it was, nobody but women for doctors and nurses +and all that? Would you put that in charge of men?" + +"Oh, you child!" cried Mrs. Mavick, turning to her daughter and patting +her on the head. "Of course there are exceptions. But I'm not going to +be one of the exceptions. Ah, well, I suppose I am quite behind the age; +but the conduct of my own sex does get on my nerves sometimes." + +Evelyn was silent. She was often so when discussions arose. They were +apt to plunge her into deep thought. To those who knew her history, +guarded from close contact with anything but the world of ideas, it was +very interesting to watch her mental attitude as she was day by day +emerging into a knowledge of the actual world and encountering its +crosscurrents. To Philip, who was getting a good idea of what her +education had been, an understanding promoted by his knowledge of the +character and attainments of her governess, her mental processes, it may +be safely said, opened a new world of thought. Not that mental processes +made much difference to a man in his condition, still, they had the +effect of setting her personality still further apart from that of other +women. One day when they happened to be tete-a-tete in one of their +frequent excursions--a rare occasion--Evelyn had said: + +"How strange it is that so many things that are self-evident nobody seems +to see, and that there are so many things that are right that can't be +done." + +"That is the way the world is made," Philip had replied. She was +frequently coming out with the sort of ideas and questions that are often +proposed by bright children, whose thinking processes are not only fresh +but undisturbed by the sophistries or concessions that experience has +woven into the thinking of our race. "Perhaps it hasn't your faith in +the abstract." + +"Faith? I wonder. Do you mean that people do not dare go ahead and do +things?" + +"Well, partly. You see, everybody is hedged in by circumstances." + +"Yes. I do begin to see circumstances. I suppose I'm a sort of a goose +--in the abstract, as you say." And Evelyn laughed. It was the +spontaneous, contagious laugh of a child. "You know that Miss McDonald +says I'm nothing but a little idealist." + +"Did you deny it?" + +"Oh, no. I said, so were the Apostles, all save one--he was a realist." + +It was Philip's turn to laugh at this new definition, and upon this the +talk had drifted into the commonplaces of the summer situation and about +Rivervale and its people. Philip regretted that his vacation would so +soon be over, and that he must say good-by to all this repose and beauty, +and to the intercourse that had been so delightful to him. + +"But you will write," Evelyn exclaimed. + +Philip was startled. + +"Write?" + +"Yes, your novel." + +"Oh, I suppose so," without any enthusiasm. + +"You must. I keep thinking of it. What a pleasure it must be to create +a real drama of life." + +So this day on the veranda of the inn when Philip spoke of his hateful +departure next day, and there was a little chorus of protest, Evelyn was +silent; but her silence was of more significance to him than the +protests, for he knew her thoughts were on the work he had promised to go +on with. + +"It is too bad," Mrs. Mavick exclaimed; "we shall be like a lot of sheep +without a shepherd." + +"That we shall," the governess joined in. "At any rate, you must make us +out a memorandum of what is to be seen and done and how to do it." + +"Yes," said Philip, gayly, "I'll write tonight a complete guide to +Rivervale." + +"We are awfully obliged to you for what you have done." Mrs. Mavick was +no doubt sincere in this. And she added, "Well, we shall all be back in +the city before long." + +It was a natural thing to say, and Philip understood that there was no +invitation in it, more than that of the most conventional acquaintance. +For Mrs. Mavick the chapter was closed. + +There were the most cordial hand-shakings and good-bys, and Philip said +good-by as lightly as anybody. But as he walked along the road he knew, +or thought he was sure, that the thoughts of one of the party were going +along with him into his future, and the peaceful scene, the murmuring +river, the cat-birds and the blackbirds calling in the meadow, and the +spirit of self-confident youth in him said not good-by, but au revoir. + + + + +XIV + +Of course Philip wrote to Celia about his vacation intimacy with the +Mavicks. It was no news to her that the Mavicks were spending the summer +there; all the world knew that, and society wondered what whim of +Carmen's had taken her out of the regular summer occupations and immured +her in the country. Not that it gave much thought to her, but, when her +name was mentioned, society resented the closing of the Newport house and +the loss of her vivacity in the autumn at Lenox. She is such a hand to +set things going, don't you know? Mr. Mavick never made a flying visit +to his family--and he was in Rivervale twice during the season--that the +newspapers did not chronicle his every movement, and attribute other +motives than family affection to these excursions into New England. Was +the Central system or the Pennsylvania system contemplating another raid? +It could not be denied that the big operator's connection with any great +interest raised suspicion and often caused anxiety. + +Naturally, thought Celia, in such a little village, Philip would fall in +with the only strangers there, so that he was giving her no news in +saying so. But there was a new tone in his letters; she detected an +unusual reserve that was in itself suspicious. Why did he say so much +about Mrs. Mavick and the governess, and so little about the girl? + +"You don't tell me," she wrote," anything about the Infant Phenomenon. +And you know I am dying to know." + +This Philip resented. Phenomenon! The little brown girl, with eyes that +saw so much and were so impenetrably deep, and the mobile face, so alert- +and responsive. If ever there was a natural person, it was Evelyn. So +he wrote: + +"There is nothing to tell; she is not an infant and she is not a +phenomenon. Only this: she has less rubbish in her mind than any person +you ever saw. And I guess the things she does not know about life are +not worth knowing." + +"I see," replied Celia; "poor boy! it's the moth and the star. [That's +just like her, muttered Philip, she always assumed to be the older.] But +don't mind. I've come to the conclusion that I am a moth myself, and +some of the lights I used to think stars have fallen. And, seriously, +dear friend, I am glad there is a person who does not know the things not +worth knowing. It is a step in the right direction. I have been this +summer up in the hills, meditating. And I am not so sure of things as I +was. I used to think that all women needed was what is called education- +-science, history, literature--and you could safely turn them loose on +the world. It certainly is not safe to turn them loose without +education--but I begin to wonder what we are all coming to. I don't mind +telling you that I have got into a pretty psychological muddle, and I +don't see much to hold on to. + +I suppose that Scotch governess is pious; I mean she has a backbone of +what they call dogma; things are right or wrong in her mind--no haziness. +Now, I am going to make a confession. I've been thinking of religion. +Don't mock. You know I was brought up religious, and I am religious. I +go to church--well, you know how I feel and especially the things I don't +believe. I go to church to be entertained. I read the other day that +Cardinal Manning said: 'The three greatest evils in the world today are +French devotional books, theatrical music, and the pulpit orator. And +the last is the worst.' I wonder. I often feel as if I had been to a +performance. No. It is not about sin that I am especially thinking, but +the sinner. One ought to do something. Sometimes I think I ought to go +to the city. You know I was in a College Settlement for a while. Now I +mean something permanent, devoted to the poor as a life occupation, like +a nun or something of that sort. You think this is a mood? Perhaps. +There have always been so many things before me to do, and I wanted to do +them all. And I do not stick to anything? You must not presume to say +that, because I confide to you all my errant thoughts. You have not +confided in me--I don't insinuate that you have anything to confide but I +cannot help saying that if you have found a pure and clear-minded girl-- +Heaven knows what she will be when she is a woman I--I am sorry she is +not poor." + +But if Philip did not pour out his heart to his old friend, he did open a +lively and frequent correspondence with Alice. Not about the person who +was always in his thoughts--oh, no--but about himself, and all he was +doing, in the not unreasonable expectation that the news would go where +he could not send it directly--so many ingenious ways has love of +attaining its object. And if Alice, no doubt, understood all this, she +was nevertheless delighted, and took great pleasure in chronicling the +news of the village and giving all the details that came in her way about +the millionaire family. This connection with the world, if only by +correspondence, was an outlet to her reserved and secluded life. And her +letters recorded more of her character, of her feeling, than he had known +in all his boyhood. When Alice mentioned, as it were by chance, that +Evelyn had asked, more than once, when she had spoken of receiving +letters, if her cousin was going on with his story, Philip felt that +the connection was not broken. + +Going on with his story he was, and with good heart. The thought that +"she" might some day read it was inspiration enough. Any real creation, +by pen or brush or chisel, must express the artist and be made in +independence of the demands of a vague public. Art is vitiated when the +commercial demand, which may be a needed stimulus, presides at the +creation. But it is doubtful if any artist in letters, or in form or +color, ever did anything well without having in mind some special person, +whose approval was desired or whose criticism was feared. Such is the +universal need of human sympathy. It is, at any rate, true that Philip's +story, recast and reinspired, was thenceforth written under the spell of +the pure divining eyes of Evelyn Mavick. Unconsciously this was so. For +at this time Philip had not come to know that the reason why so many +degraded and degrading stories and sketches are written is because the +writers' standard is the approval of one or two or a group of persons of +vitiated tastes and low ideals. + +The Mavicks did not return to town till late in the autumn. By this time +Philip's novel had been submitted to a publisher, or, rather, to state +the exact truth, it had begun to go the rounds of the publishers. Mr. +Brad, to whose nineteenth-century and newspaper eye Philip had shrunk +from confiding his modest creation, but who was consulted in the +business, consoled him with the suggestion that this was a sure way of +getting his production read. There was already in the city a +considerable body of professional "readers," mostly young men and women, +to whom manuscripts were submitted by the publishers, so that the author +could be sure, if he kept at it long enough, to get a pretty fair +circulation for his story. They were selected because they were good +judges of literature and because they had a keen appreciation of what the +public wanted at the moment. Many of them are overworked, naturally so, +in the mass of manuscripts turned over to their inspection day after day, +and are compelled often to adopt the method of tea-tasters, who sip but +do not swallow, for to drink a cup or two of the decoction would spoil +their taste and impair their judgment, especially on new brands. Philip +liked to imagine, as the weeks passed away--the story is old and need not +be retold here--that at any given hour somebody was reading him. He did +not, however, dwell with much delight upon this process, for the idea +that some unknown Rhadamanthus was sitting in judgment upon him much more +wounded his 'amour propre', and seemed much more like an invading of his +inner, secret life and feeling, than would be an instant appeal to the +general public. Why, he thought, it is just as if I had shown it to Brad +himself--apiece of confidence that he could not bring himself to. He did +not know that Brad himself was a reader for a well-known house--which had +employed him on the strength of his newspaper notoriety--and that very +likely he had already praised the quality of the work and damned it as +lacking "snap." + +It was, however, weary waiting, and would have been intolerable if his +duties in the law office had not excluded other thoughts from his mind a +good part of the time. There were days when he almost resolved to +confine himself to the solid and remunerative business of law, and give +up the vague aspirations of authorship. But those vague aspirations were +in the end more enticing than the courts. Common-sense is not an +antidote to the virus of the literary infection when once a young soul +has taken it. In his long walks it was not on the law that Philip was +ruminating, nor was the fame of success in it occupying his mind. +Suppose he could write one book that should touch the heart of the world. +Would he exchange the sweetness of that for the fleeting reputation of +the most brilliant lawyer? In short, he magnified beyond all reason the +career and reputation of the author, and mistook the consideration he +occupies in the great world. And what a world it would be if there had +not been a continuous line of such mistaken fools as he! + +That it was not literature alone that inflated his dreams was evidenced +by the direction his walks took. Whatever their original destination or +purpose, he was sure to pass through upper Fifth Avenue, and walk by the +Mavick mansion. And never without a lift in his spirits. What comfort +there is to a lover in gazing at the blank and empty house once occupied +by his mistress has never been explained; but Philip would have counted +the day lost in which he did not see it. + +After he heard from Alice that the Mavicks had returned, the house had +still stronger attractions for him, for there was added the chance of a +glimpse of Evelyn or one of the family. Many a day passed, however, +before he mustered up courage to mount the steps and touch the button. + +"Yes, sir," said the servant, "the family is returned, but they is +h'out." + +Philip left his card. But nothing came of it, and he did not try again. +In fact, he was a little depressed as the days went by. How much doubt +and anxiety, even suffering, might have been spared him if the historian +at that moment could have informed him of a little shopping incident at +Tiffany's a few days after the Mavicks' return. + +A middle-aged lady and a young girl were inspecting some antiques. The +girl, indeed, had been asking for ancient coins, and they were shown two +superb gold staters with the heads of Alexander and Philip. + +"Aren't they beautiful?" said the younger. "How lovely one would be for +a brooch!" + +"Yes, indeed," replied the elder, "and quite in the line of our Greek +reading." + +The girl held them in her hand and looked at one and the other with a +student's discrimination. + +"Which would you choose?" + +"Oh, both are fine. Philip of Macedon has a certain youthful freshness, +in the curling hair and uncovered head. But, of course, Alexander the +Great is more important, and then there is the classic casque. I should +take the Alexander." The girl still hesitated, weighing the choice in +her mind from the classic point of view. + +"Doubtless you are right. But"--and she held up the lovely head--"this +is not quite so common, and--and--I think I'll take the Macedon one. +Yes, you may set that for me," turning to the salesman. + +"Diamonds or pearls?" asked the jeweler. + +"Oh, dear, no!" exclaimed the girl; "just the head." + +Evelyn's education was advancing. For the first time in her life she had +something to conceal. The privilege of this sort of secret is, however, +an inheritance of Eve. The first morning she wore it at breakfast Mrs. +Mavick asked her what it was. + +"It's a coin, antique Greek," Evelyn replied, passing it across the +table. + +"How pretty it is; it is very pretty. Ought to have pearls around it. +Seems to be an inscription on it." + +"Yes, it is real old. McDonald says it is a stater, about the same as a +Persian daric-something like the value of a sovereign." + +"Oh, indeed; very interesting." + +To give Evelyn her due, it must be confessed that she blushed at this +equivocation about the inscription, and she got quite hot with shame +thinking what would become of her if Philip should ever know that she was +regarding him as a stater and wearing his name on her breast. + +One can fancy what philosophical deductions as to the education of women +Celia Howard would have drawn out of this coin incident; one of them +doubtless being that a classical education is no protection against love. + +But for Philip's connection with the thriving firm of Hunt, Sharp & +Tweedle, it is safe to say that he would have known little of the world +of affairs in Wall Street, and might never have gained entrance into that +other world, for which Wall Street exists, that society where its wealth +and ambitious vulgarity are displayed. Thomas Mavick was a client of the +firm. At first they had been only associated with his lawyer, and +consulted occasionally. But as time went on Mr. Mavick opened to them +his affairs more and more, as he found the advantage of being represented +to the public by a firm that combined the highest social and +professional standing with all the acumen and adroitness that his +complicated affairs required. + +It was a time of great financial feverishness and uncertainty, and of +opportunity for the most reckless adventurers. Houses the most solid +were shaken and crippled, and those which were much extended in a variety +of adventures were put to their wits' ends to escape shipwreck. +Financial operations are perpetual war. It is easy to calculate about +the regular forces, but the danger is from the unexpected "raids" and the +bushwhackers and guerrillas. And since politics has become inextricably +involved in financial speculations (as it has in real war), the +excitement and danger of business on a large scale increase. + +Philip as a trusted clerk, without being admitted into interior secrets, +came to know a good deal about Mavick's affairs, and to be more than ever +impressed with his enormous wealth and the magnitude of his operations. +From time to time he was sent on errands to Mavick's office, and +gradually, as Mavick became accustomed to him as a representative of the +firm, they came on a somewhat familiar footing, and talked of other +things than business. And Mavick, who was not a bad judge of the +capacities of men, conceived a high idea of Philip's single-mindedness, +of his integrity and general culture, and, as well, of his agreeableness +(for Philip had a certain charm where he felt at ease), while at the same +time he discovered that his mind was more upon something else than law, +and that, if his success in his profession depended upon his adoption of +the business methods of the Street, he could not go very far. +Consequently he did not venture upon the same confidences with him that +he habitually did with Mr. Sharp. Yet, business aside, he had an +intellectual pleasure in exchanging views with Philip which Mr. Sharp's +conversation did not offer him. + +When, therefore, Mrs. Mavick came to consult her husband about the list +for the coming-out reception of Evelyn, Philip found a friend at court. + +"It is all plain enough," said Carmen, as she sat down with book and +pencil in hand, "till you come to the young men, the unattached young +men. Here is my visiting-list, that of course. But for the young ladies +we must have more young men. Can't you suggest any?" + +"Perhaps. I know a lot of young fellows." + +"But I mean available young men, those that count socially. I don't want +a broker's board or a Chamber of Commerce here." + +Mr. Mavick named half a dozen, and Carmen looked for their names in the +social register. "Any more?" + +"Why, you forgot young Burnett, who was with you last summer at +Rivervale. I thought you liked him." + +"So I did in Rivervale. Plain farmer people. Yes, he was very nice to +us. I've been thinking if I couldn't send him something Christmas and +pay off the debt." + +"He'd think a great deal more of an invitation to your reception." + +"But you don't understand. You never think of Evelyn's future. We are +asking people that we think she ought to know." + +"Well, Burnett is a very agreeable fellow." + +"Fiddlesticks! He is nothing but a law clerk. Worse than that, he is a +magazine writer." + +"I thought you liked his essays and stories." + +"So I do. But you don't want to associate with everybody you like that +way. I am talking about society. You must draw the line somewhere. Oh, +I forgot Fogg--Dr. LeRoy Fogg, from Pittsburg." And down went the name +of Fogg. + +"You mean that young swell whose business it is to drive a four-in-hand +to Yonkers and back, and toot on a horn?" + +"Well, what of that? Everybody who is anybody, I mean all the girls, +want to go on his coach." + +"Oh, Lord! I'd rather go on the Elevated." And Mavick laughed very +heartily, for him. "Well, I'll make a compromise. You take Fogg and +I'll take Burnett. He is in a good firm, he belongs to a first-rate +club, he goes to the Hunts' and the Scammels', I hear of him in good +places. Come." + +"Well, if you make a point of it. I've nothing against him. But if you +knew the feelings of a mother about her only daughter you would know, +that you cannot be too careful." + +When, several days after this conversation, Philip received his big +invitation, gorgeously engraved on what he took to be a sublimated sort +of wrapping-paper, he felt ashamed that he had doubted the sincere +friendship and the goodness of heart of Mrs. Mavick. + + + + +XV + +One morning in December, Philip was sent down to Mr. Mavick's office with +some important papers. He was kept waiting a considerable time in the +outer room where the clerks were at work. A couple of clerks at desks +near the chair he occupied were evidently discussing some one and he +overheard fragments of sentences--"Yes, that's he." "Well, I guess the +old man's got his match this time." + +When he was admitted to the private office, he encountered coming out in +the anteroom a man of striking appearance. For an instant they were face +to face, and then bowed and passed on. The instant seemed to awaken some +memory in Philip which greatly puzzled him. + +The man had closely cropped black hair, black Whiskers, a little curling, +but also closely trimmed, piercing black eyes, and the complexion of a +Spaniard. The nose was large but regular, the mouth square-cut and firm, +and the powerful jaw emphasized the decision of the mouth. The frame +corresponded with the head. It was Herculean, and yet with no +exaggerated developments. The man was over six feet in height, the +shoulders were square, the chest deep, the hips and legs modeled for +strength, and with no superfluous flesh. Philip noticed, as they fronted +each other for an instant and the stranger raised his hat, that his hands +and feet were smaller than usually accompany such a large frame. The +impression was that of great physical energy, self-confidence, and +determined will. The face was not bad, certainly not in detail, and even +the penetrating eyes seemed at the moment capable of a humorous +expression, but it was that of a man whom you would not like to have your +enemy. He wore a business suit of rough material and fashionable cut, +but he wore it like a man who did not give much thought to his clothes. + +"What a striking-looking man," said Philip, motioning with his hand +towards the anteroom as he greeted Mr. Mavick. + +"Who, Ault?" answered Mavick, indifferently. + +"Ault! What, Murad Ault?" + +"Nobody else." + +"Is it possible? I thought I saw a resemblance. Several times I have +wondered, but I fancied it only a coincidence of names. It seemed +absurd. Why, I used to know Murad Ault when we were boys. And to think +that he should be the great Murad Ault." + +"He hasn't been that for more than a couple of years," Mavick answered, +with a smile at the other's astonishment, and then, with more interest, +"What do you know about him?" + +"If this is the same person, he used to live at Rivervale. Came there, +no one knew where from, and lived with his mother, a little withered old +woman, on a little cleared patch up in the hills, in a comfortable sort +of shanty. She used to come to the village with herbs and roots to sell. +Nobody knew whether she was a gypsy or a decayed lady, she had such an +air, and the children were half afraid of her, as a sort of witch. Murad +went to school, and occasionally worked for some farmer, but nobody knew +him; he rarely spoke to any one, and he had the reputation of being a +perfect devil; his only delight seemed to be in doing some dare-devil +feat to frighten the children. We used to say that Murad Ault would +become either a pirate or--" + +"Broker," suggested Mr. Mavick, with a smile. + +"I didn't know much about brokers at that time," Philip hastened to say, +and then laughed himself at his escape from actual rudeness. + +"What became of him?" + +"Oh, he just disappeared. After I went away to school I heard that his +mother had died, and Murad had gone off--gone West it was said. Nothing +was ever heard of him." + +The advent and rise of Murad Ault in New York was the sort of phenomenon +to which the metropolis, which picks up its great men as Napoleon did his +marshals, is accustomed. The mystery of his origin, which was at first +against him, became at length an element of his strength and of the fear +he inspired, as a sort of elemental force of unknown power. Newspaper +biographies of him constantly appeared, but he had evaded every attempt +to include him and his portrait in the Lives of Successful Men. The +publishers of these useful volumes for stimulating speculation and +ambition did not dare to take the least liberties with Murad Ault. + +The man was like the boy whom Philip remembered. Doubtless he +appreciated now as then the value of the mystery that surrounded his name +and origin; and he very soon had a humorous conception of the situation +that made him decline to be pilloried with others in one of those +volumes, which won from a reviewer the confession that "lives of great +men all remind us we may make our lives sublime." One of the legends +current about him was that he first appeared in New York as a "hand" on a +canal-boat, that he got employment as a check-clerk on the dock, that he +made the acquaintance of politicians in his ward, and went into politics +far enough to get a city contract, which paid him very well and showed +him how easily a resolute man could get money and use it in the city. He +was first heard of in Wall Street as a curbstone broker, taking enormous +risks and always lucky. Very soon he set up an office, with one clerk or +errand-boy, and his growing reputation for sagacity and boldness began to +attract customers; his ventures soon engaged the attention of guerrillas +like himself, who were wont to consult him. They found that his advice +was generally sound, and that he had not only sensitiveness but +prescience about the state of the market. His office was presently +enlarged, and displayed a modest sign of "Murad Ault, Banker and Broker." + +Mr. Ault's operations constantly enlarged, his schemes went beyond the +business of registering other people's bets and taking a commission on +them; he was known as a daring but successful promoter, and he had a +visible ownership in steamships and railways, and projected such vast +operations as draining the Jersey marshes. If he had been a citizen of +Italy he would have attacked the Roman Campagna with the same confidence. +At any rate, he made himself so much felt and seemed to command so many +resources that it was not long before he forced his way into the Stock +Exchange and had a seat in the Board of Brokers. He was at first an odd +figure there. There was something flash about his appearance, and his +heavy double watch-chain and diamond shirt-studs gave him the look of an +ephemeral adventurer. But he soon took his cue, the diamonds +disappeared, and the dress was toned down. There seemed to be two models +in the Board, the smart and neat, and the hayseed style adopted by some +of the most wily old operators, who posed as honest dealers who retained +their rural simplicity. Mr. Ault adopted a middle course, and took the +respectable yet fashionable, solid dress of a man of affairs. + +There is no other place in the world where merit is so quickly recognized +as in the Stock Exchange, especially if it is backed by brass and a good +head. Ault's audacity made him feared; he was believed to be as +unscrupulous as he was reckless, but this did not much injure his +reputation when it was seen that he was marvelously successful. That +Ault would wreck the market, if he could and it was to his advantage, no +one doubted; but still he had a quality that begot confidence. He kept +his word. Though men might be shy of entering into a contract with Ault, +they learned that what he said he would do he would do literally. He was +not a man of many words, but he was always decided and apparently open, +and, as whatever he touched seemed to thrive, his associates got the +habit of saying, "What Ault says goes." + +Murad Ault had married, so it was said, the daughter of a boarding-house +keeper on the dock. She was a pretty girl, had been educated in a +convent (perhaps by his aid after he was engaged to marry her), and was a +sweet mother to a little brood of charming children, and a devout member +of her parish church. Those who had seen Mrs. Ault when her carriage +took her occasionally to Ault's office in the city were much impressed by +her graceful manner and sweet face, and her appearance gave Ault a sort +of anchorage in the region of respectability. No one would have accused +Ault of being devoted to any special kind of religious worship; but he +was equally tolerant of all religions, and report said was liberal in his +wife's church charities. Besides the fact that he owned a somewhat +pretentious house in Sixtieth Street, society had very little knowledge +of him. + +It was, however, undeniable that he was a power in the Street. No other +man's name was oftener mentioned in the daily journals in connection with +some bold and successful operation. He seemed to thrive on panics, and +to grow strong and rich with every turn of the wheel. There is only one +stock expression in America for a man who is very able and unscrupulous, +and carries things successfully with a high hand--he is Napoleonic. It +needed only a few brilliant operations, madly reckless in appearance but +successful, to give Ault the newspaper sobriquet of the Young Napoleon. + +"Papa, what does he mean?" asked the eldest boy. "Jim Dustin says the +papers call you Napoleon." + +"It means, my boy," said Ault, with a grim smile, that I am devoted to +your mother, St. Helena." + +"Don't say that, Murad," exclaimed his wife; I'm far enough from a saint, +and your destiny isn't the Island." + +"What's the Island, mamma?" + +"It's a place people are sent to for their health." + +"In a boat? Can I go?" + +"You ask too many questions, Sinclair," said Mr. Ault; "it's time you +were off to school." + +There seems to have been not the least suspicion in this household that +the head of it was a pirate. + +It must be said that Mavick still looked upon Ault as an adventurer, one +of those erratic beings who appear from time to time in the Street, upset +everything, and then disappear. They had been associated occasionally in +small deals, and Ault had more than once appealed to Mavick, as a great +capitalist, with some promising scheme. They had, indeed, co-operated in +reorganizing a Western railway, but seemed to have come out of the +operation without increased confidence in each other. What had occurred +nobody knew, but thereafter there developed a slight antagonism between +the two operators. Ault went no more to consult the elder man, and they +had two or three little bouts, in which Mavick did not get the best of +it. This was not an unusual thing in the Street. Mr. Ault never +expressed his opinion of Mr. Mavick, but it became more and more apparent +that their interests were opposed. Some one who knew both men, and said +that the one was as cold and selfish as a pike, and the other was a most +unscrupulous dare-devil, believed that Mavick had attempted some sort of +a trick on Ault, and that it was the kind of thing that the Spaniard (his +complexion had given him this nickname) never forgot. + +It is not intended to enter into a defense of the local pool known as the +New York Stock Exchange. It needs none. Some regard it as a necessary +standpipe to promote and equalize distribution, others consult it as a +sort of Nilometer, to note the rise and fall of the waters and the +probabilities of drought or flood. Everybody knows that it is full of +the most gamy and beautiful fish in the world--namely, the speckled +trout, whose honest occupation it is to devour whatever is thrown into +the pool--a body governed by the strictest laws of political economy in +guarding against over-population, by carrying out the Malthusian idea, in +the habit the big ones have of eating the little ones. But occasionally +this harmonious family, which is animated by one of the most conspicuous +traits of human nature--to which we owe very much of our progress-- +namely, the desire to get hold of everything within reach, and is such a +useful object-lesson of the universal law of upward struggle that results +in the survival of the fittest, this harmonious family is disturbed by +the advent of a pickerel, which makes a raid, introduces confusion into +all the calculations of the pool, roils the water, and drives the trout +into their holes. + +The presence in the pool of a slimy eel or a blundering bullhead or a +lethargic sucker is bad enough, but the rush in of the pickerel is the +advent of the devil himself. Until he is got rid of, all the delicate +machinery for the calculation of chances is hopelessly disturbed; and no +one could tell what would become of the business of the country if there +were not a considerable number of devoted men engaged in registering its +fluctuations and the change of values, and willing to back their opinions +by investing their own capital or, more often, the capital of others. + +This somewhat mixed figure cannot be pursued further without losing its +analogy, becoming fantastic, and violating natural law. For it is matter +of observation that in this arena the pickerel, if he succeeds in +clearing out the pool, suddenly becomes a trout, and is respected as the +biggest and most useful fish in the pond. + +What is meant is simply that Murad Ault was fighting for position, and +that for some reason, known to himself, Thomas Mavick stood in his way. +Mr. Mavick had never been under the necessity of making such a contest. +He stepped into a commanding position as the manager if not the owner of +the great fortune of Rodney Henderson. His position was undisputed, for +the Street believed with the world in the magnitude of that fortune, +though there were shrewd operators who said that Mavick had more chicane +but not a tenth part of the ability of Rodney Henderson. Mr. Ault had +made the fortune the object of keen scrutiny, when his antagonism was +aroused, and none knew better than he its assailable points. Henderson +had died suddenly in the midst of vast schemes which needed his genius to +perfect. Apparently the Mavick estate was second to only a few fortunes +in the country. Mr. Ault had set himself to find out whether this vast +structure stood upon rock foundations. The knowledge he acquired about +it and his intentions he communicated to no one. But the drift of his +mind might be gathered from a remark he made to his wife one day, when +some social allusion was made to Mavick: "I'll bring down that snob." + +The use of such men as Ault in the social structure is very doubtful, as +doubtful as that of a summer tempest or local cyclone, which it is said +clears the air and removes rubbish, but is a scourge that involves the +innocent as often as the guilty. It is popularly supposed that the +disintegration and distribution of a great fortune, especially if it has +been accumulated by doubtful methods, is a benefit to mankind. Mr. Ault +may have shared this impression, but it is unlikely that he philosophized +on the subject. No one, except perhaps his own family, had ever +discovered that he had any sensibilities that could be appealed to, and, +if he had known the ideas beginning to take shape in the mind of the +millionaire heiress in regard to this fortune, he would have approved or +comprehended them as little as did her mother. + +Evelyn had lived hitherto with little comprehension of her peculiar +position. That the world went well with her, and that no obstacle was +opposed to the gratification of her reasonable desires, or to her +impulses of charity and pity, was about all she knew of her power. But +she was now eighteen and about to appear in the world. Her mother, +therefore, had been enlightening her in regard to her expectations and +the career that lay open to her. And Carmen thought the girl a little +perverse, in that this prospect, instead of exciting her worldly +ambition, seemed to affect her only seriously as a matter of +responsibility. + +In their talks Mrs. Mavick was in fact becoming acquainted with the mind +of her daughter, and learning, somewhat to her chagrin, the limitations +of her education produced by the policy of isolation. +To her dismay, she found that the girl did not care much for the things +that she herself cared most for. The whole world of society, its +strifes, ambitions, triumphs, defeats, rewards, did not seem to Evelyn so +real or so important as that world in which she had lived with her +governess and her tutors. And, worse than this, the estimate she placed +upon the values of material things was shockingly inadequate to her +position. + +That her father was a very great man was one of the earliest things +Evelyn began to know, exterior to herself. This was impressed upon her +by the deference paid to him not only at home but wherever they went, and +by the deference shown to her as his daughter. And she was proud of +this. He was not one of the great men whose careers she was familiar +with in literature, not a general or a statesman or an orator or a +scientist or a poet or a philanthropist she never thought of him in +connection with these heroes of her imagination--but he was certainly a +great power in the world. And she had for him a profound admiration, +which might have become affection if Mavick had ever taken the pains to +interest himself in the child's affairs. Her mother she loved, and +believed there could be no one in the world more sweet and graceful and +attractive, and as she grew up she yearned for more of the motherly +companionship, for something more than the odd moments of petting that +were given to her in the whirl of the life of a woman of the world. What +that life was, however, she had only the dimmest comprehension, and it +was only in the last two years, since she was sixteen, that she began to +understand it, and that mainly in contrast to her own guarded life. And +she was now able to see that her own secluded life had been unusual. + +Not till long after this did she speak to any one of her experience as a +child, of the time when she became conscious that she was never alone, +and that she was only free to act within certain limits. + +To McDonald, indeed, she had often shown her irritation, and it was only +the strong good sense of the governess that kept her from revolt. It was +not until very recently that it could be explained to her, without +putting her in terror hourly, why she must always be watched and guarded. + +It had required all the tact and sophistry of her governess to make her +acquiesce in a system of education--so it was called-that had been +devised in order to give her the highest and purest development. That +the education was mainly left to McDonald, and that her parents were +simply anxious about her safety, she did not learn till long afterwards. +In the first years Mrs. Mavick had been greatly relieved to be spared all +the care of the baby, and as the years went on, the arrangement seemed +more and more convenient, and she gave little thought to the character +that was being formed. To Mr. Mavick, indeed, as to his wife, it was +enough to see that she was uncommonly intelligent, and that she had a +certain charm that made her attractive. Mrs. Mavick took it for granted +that when it came time to introduce her into the world she would be like +other girls, eager for its pleasures and susceptible to all its +allurements. Of the direction of the undercurrents of the girl's life +she had no conception, until she began to unfold to her the views of the +world that prevailed in her circle, and what (in the Carmen scheme of +life) ought to be a woman's ambition. + +That she was to be an heiress Evelyn had long known, that she would one +day have a great fortune at her disposal had indeed come into her serious +thought, but the brilliant use of it in relation to herself, at which her +mother was always lately hinting, came to her as a disagreeable shock. +For the moment the fortune seemed to her rather a fetter than an +opportunity, if she was to fulfill her mother's expectations. These +hints were conveyed with all the tact of which her mother was master, but +the girl was nevertheless somewhat alarmed, and she began to regard the +"coming out" as an entrance into servitude rather than an enlargement of +liberty. One day she surprised Miss McDonald by asking her if she didn't +think that rich people were the only ones not free to do as they pleased? + +"Why, my dear, it is not generally so considered. Most people fancy that +if they had money enough they could do anything." + +"Yes, of course," said the girl, putting down her stitching and looking +up; "that is not exactly what I mean. They can go in the current, they +can do what they like with their money, but I mean with themselves. +Aren't they in a condition that binds them half the time to do what they +don't wish to do?" + +"It's a condition that all the world is trying to get into." + +"I know. I've been talking with mamma about the world and about society, +and what is expected and what you must live up to." + +"But you have always known that you must one day go into the world and +take your share in life." + +"That, yes. But I would rather live up to myself. Mamma seems to think +that society will do a great deal for me, that I will get a wider view of +life, that I can do so much for society, and, with my position, mamma +says, have such a career. McDonald, what is society for?" + +That was such a poser that the governess threw up her hands, and then +laughed aloud, and then shook her head. "Wiser people than you have +asked that question." + +"I asked mamma that, for she is in it all the time. She didn't like it +much, and asked, 'What is anything for?' You see, McDonald, I've been +with mamma many a time when her friends came to see her, and they never +have anything to say, never--what I call anything. I wonder if in +society they go about saying that? What do they do it for?" + +Miss McDonald had her own opinion about what is called society and its +occupations and functions, but she did not propose to encourage this +girl, who would soon take her place in it, in such odd notions. + +"Don't you know, child, that there is society and society? That it is +all sorts of a world, that it gets into groups and circles about, and +that is the way the world is stirred up and kept from stagnation. And, +my dear, you have just to do your duty where you are placed, and that is +all there is about it." + +"Don't be cross, McDonald. I suppose I can think my thoughts?" + +"Yes, you can think, and you can learn to keep a good deal that you think +to yourself. Now, Evelyn, haven't you any curiosity to see what this +world we are talking about is like?" + +"Indeed I have," said Evelyn, coming out of her reflective mood into a +girlish enthusiasm. "And I want to see what I shall be like in it. +Only--well, how is that?" And she held out the handkerchief she had been +plying her needle on. + +Miss McDonald looked at the stitches critically, at the letters T.M. +enclosed in an oval. + +"That is very good, not too mechanical. It will please your father. The +oval makes a pretty effect; but what are those signs between the +letters?" + +"Don't you see? It is a cartouche, and those are hieroglyphics--his name +in Egyptian. I got it out of Petrie's book." + +"It certainly is odd." + +"And every one of the twelve is going to be different. It is so +interesting to hunt up the signs for qualities. If papa can read it he +will find out a good deal that I think about him." + +The governess only smiled for reply. It was so like Evelyn, so different +from others even in the commonplace task of marking handkerchiefs, to +work a little archaeology into her expression of family affection. + +Mrs. Mavick's talks with her daughter in which she attempted to give +Evelyn some conception of her importance as the heiress of a great +fortune, of her position in society, what would be expected of her, and +of the brilliant social career her mother imagined for her, had an effect +opposite to that intended. There had been nothing in her shielded life, +provided for at every step without effort, that had given her any idea of +the value and importance of money. + +To a girl in her position, educated in the ordinary way and mingling with +school companions, one of the earliest lessons would be a comprehension +of the power that wealth gave her; and by the time that she was of +Evelyn's age her opinion of men would begin to be colored by the notion +that they were polite or attentive to her on account of her fortune and +not for any charm of hers, and so a cruel suspicion of selfishness would +have entered her mind to poison the very thought of love. + +No such idea had entered Evelyn's mind. She would not readily have +understood that love could have any sort of relation to riches or +poverty. And if, deep down in her heart, not acknowledged, scarcely +recognized, by herself, there had begun to grow an image about which she +had sweet and tender thoughts, it certainly did not occur to her that her +father's wealth could make any difference in the relations of friendship +or even of affection. And as for the fortune, if she was, as her mother +said, some day to be mistress of it, she began to turn over in her mind +objects quite different from the display and the career suggested by her +mother, and to think how she could use it. + +In her ignorance of practical life and of what the world generally +values, of course the scheme that was rather hazy in her mind was simply +Quixotic, as appeared in a conversation with her father one evening while +he smoked his cigar. He had called Evelyn to the library, on the +suggestion of Carmen that he should "have a little talk with the girl." + +Mr. Mavick began, when Evelyn was seated beside him, and he had drawn her +close to him and she had taken possession of his big hand with both her +little hands, about the reception and about balls to come, and the opera, +and what was going on in New York generally in the season, and suddenly +asked: + +"My dear, if you had a lot of money, what would you do with it?" + +"What would you?" said the girl, looking up into his face. "What do +people generally do?" + +"Why," and Mavick hesitated, "they use it to add more to it." + +"And then?" pursued the girl. + +"I suppose they leave it to somebody. Suppose it was left to you?" + +"Don't think me silly, papa; I've thought a lot about it, and I shall do +something quite different." + +"Different from what?" + +"You know mamma is in the Orthopedic Hospital, and in the Ragged Schools, +and in the Infirmary, and I don't know what all." + +"And wouldn't you help them?" + +"Of course, I would help. But everybody does those things, the practical +things, the charities; I mean to do things for the higher life." + +Mr. Mavick took his cigar from his mouth and looked puzzled. "You want +to build a cathedral?" + +"No, I don't mean that sort of higher life, I mean civilization, the +things at the top. I read an essay the other day that said it was easy +to raise money for anything mechanical and practical in a school, but +nobody wanted to give for anything ideal." + +"Quite right," said her father; "the world is full of cranks. You seem +as vague as your essayist." + +"Don't you remember, papa, when we were in Oxford how amused you were +with the master, or professor, who grumbled because the college was full +of students, and there wasn't a single college for research? + +I asked McDonald afterwards what he meant; that is how I first got my +idea, but I didn't see exactly what it was until recently. You've got to +cultivate the high things--that essay says--the abstract, that which does +not seem practically useful, or society will become low and material." + +"By George!" cried Mavick, with a burst of laughter, "you've got the +lingo. Go on, I want to see where you are going to light." + +"Well, I'll tell you some more. You know my tutor is English. McDonald +says she believes he is the most learned man in eighteenth-century +literature living, and his dream is to write a history of it. He is +poor, and engaged all the time teaching, and McDonald says he will die, +no doubt, and leave nothing of his investigations to the world." + +"And you want to endow him?" + +"He is only one. There is the tutor of history. Teach, teach, teach, +and no time or strength left for investigation. You ought to hear him +tell of the things just to be found out in American history. You see +what I mean? It is plainer in the sciences. The scholars who could +really make investigations, and do something for the world, have to earn +their living and have no time or means for experiments. It seems foolish +as I say it, but I do think, papa, there is something in it." + +"And what would you do?" + +Evelyn saw that she was making no headway, and her ideas, exposed to so +practical a man as her father, did seem rather ridiculous. But she +struck out boldly with the scheme that she had been evolving. + +"I'd found Institutions of Research, where there should be no teaching, +and students who had demonstrated that they had anything promising in +them, in science, literature, languages, history, anything, should have +the means and the opportunity to make investigations and do work. See +what a hard time inventors and men of genius have; it is pitiful." + +"And how much money do you want for this modest scheme of yours?" + +"I hadn't thought," said Evelyn, patting her father's hand. And then, at +a venture, "I guess about ten millions." + +"Whew! Have you any idea how much ten millions are, or how much one +million is?" + +"Why, ten millions, if you have a hundred, is no more than one million if +you have only ten. Doesn't it depend?" + +"If it depends upon you, child, I don't think money has any value for you +whatever. You are a born financier for getting rid of a surplus. You +ought to be Secretary of the Treasury." + +Mavick rose, lifted up his daughter, and, kissing her with more than +usual tenderness, said, "You'll learn about the world in time," and bade +her goodnight. + + + + +XVI + +Law and love go very well together as occupations, but, when literature +is added, the trio is not harmonious. Either of the two might pull +together, but the combination of the three is certainly disastrous. + +It would be difficult to conceive of a person more obviously up in the +air than Philip at this moment. He went through his office duties +intelligently and perfunctorily, but his heart was not in the work, and +reason as he would his career did not seem to be that way. He was lured +too strongly by that siren, the ever-alluring woman who sits upon the +rocks and sings so deliciously to youth of the sweets of authorship. He +who listens once to that song hears it always in his ears, through +disappointment and success--and the success is often the greatest +disappointment--through poverty and hope deferred and heart-sickness for +recognition, through the hot time of youth and the creeping incapacity of +old age. The song never ceases. Were the longing and the hunger it +arouses ever satisfied with anything, money for instance, any more than +with fame? + +And if the law had a feeble hold on him, how much more uncertain was his +grasp on literature. He had thrown his line, he had been encouraged by +nibbles, but publishers were too wary to take hold. It seemed to him +that he had literally cast his bread upon the waters, and apparently at +an ebb tide, and his venture had gone to the fathomless sea. He had put +his heart into the story, and, more than that, his hope of something +dearer than any public favor. As he went over the story in his mind, +scene after scene, and dwelt upon the theme that held the whole in unity, +he felt that Evelyn would be touched by the recognition of her part in +the inspiration, and that the great public must give some heed to it. +Perhaps not the great public--for its liking now ran in quite another +direction, but a considerable number of people like Celia, who were +struggling with problems of life, and the Alices in country homes who +still preserved in their souls a belief in the power of a noble life, and +perhaps some critics who had not rid themselves of the old traditions. +If the publishers would only give him a chance! + +But if law and literature were to him little more than unsubstantial +dreams, the love he cherished was, in the cool examination of reason, +preposterous. What! the heiress of so many millions, brought up +doubtless in the expectation of the most brilliant worldly alliance, the +heiress with the world presently at her feet, would she look at a +lawyer's clerk and an unsuccessful scribbler? Oh, the vanity of youth +and the conceit of intellect! + +Down in his heart Philip thought that she might. And he went on nursing +this vain passion, knowing as well as any one can know the social code, +that Mr. Mavick and Mrs. Mavick would simply laugh in his face at such a +preposterous idea. And yet he knew that he had her sympathy in his +ambition, that to a certain extent she was interested in him. The girl +was too guileless to conceal that. And then suppose he should become +famous--well, not exactly famous, but an author who was talked about, and +becoming known, and said to be promising? And then he could fancy Mavick +weighing this sort of reputation in his office scales against money, and +Mrs. Mavick weighing it in her boudoir against social position. He was a +fool to think of it. And yet, suppose, suppose the girl should come to +love him. It would not be lightly. He knew that, by looking into her +deep, clear, beautiful eyes. There were in them determination and +tenacity of purpose as well as the capability of passion. Heavens and +earth, if that girl once loved, there was a force that no opposition +could subdue! That was true. But what had he to offer to evoke such a +love? + +In those days Philip saw much of Celia, who at length had given up +teaching, and had come to the city to try her experiment, into which she +was willing to embark her small income. She had taken a room in the +midst of poverty and misery on the East Side, and was studying the +situation. + +"I am not certain," she said, "whether I or any one else can do anything, +or whether any organization down there can effect much. +But I will find out." + +"Aren't you lonesome--and disgusted?" asked Philip. + +"Disgusted? You might as well be disgusted with one thing as another. I +am generally disgusted with the way things go. But, lonely? No, there +is too much to do and to learn. And do you know, Philip, that people are +more interesting over there, more individual, have more queer sorts of +character. I begin to believe, with a lovely philanthropist I know, who +had charge of female criminals, that 'wicked women are more interesting +than good women.'" + +"You have struck a rich mine of interest in New York, then." + +"Don't be cynical, Phil. There are different kinds of interest. Stuff! +But I won't explain." And then, abruptly changing the subject, "Seems to +me you have something on your mind lately. Is it the novel?" + +"Perhaps." + +"The publishers haven't decided?" + +"I am afraid they have." + +"Well, Philip, do you know that I think the best thing that could happen +to you would be to have the story rejected." + +"It has been rejected several times," said Philip. "That didn't seem to +do me any good." + +"But finally, so that you would stop thinking about it, stop expecting +anything that way, and take up your profession in earnest." + +"You are a nice comforter!" retorted Philip, with a sort of smirking grin +and a look of keen inspection, as if he saw something new in the +character of his adviser. "What has come over you? Suppose I should +give you that sort of sympathy in the projects you set your heart on?" + +"It does seem hard and mean, doesn't it? I knew you wouldn't like it. +That is, not now. But it is for your lifetime. As for me, I've wanted +so many things and I've tried so many things. And do you know, Phil, +that I have about come to the conclusion that the best things for us in +this world are the things we don't get." + +"You are always coming to some new conclusion." + +"Yes, I know. But just look at it rationally. Suppose your story is +published, cast into the sea of new books, and has a very fair sale. +What will you get out of it? You can reckon how many copies at ten cents +a copy it will need to make as much as some writers get for a trivial +magazine paper. Recognition? Yes, from a very few people. Notoriety? +You would soon find what that is. Suppose you make what is called a +'hit.' If you did not better that with the next book, you would be +called a failure. And you must keep at it, keep giving the public +something new all the time, or you will drop out of sight. And then the +anxiety and the strain of it, and the temptation, because you must live, +to lower your ideal, and go down to what you conceive to be the buying +public. And if your story does not take the popular fancy, where will +you be then?" + +"Celia, you have become a perfect materialist. You don't allow anything +for the joy of creation, for the impulse of a man's mind, for the delight +in fighting for a place in the world of letters." + +"So it seems to you now. If you have anything that must be said, of +course you ought to say it, no matter what comes after. If you are +looking round for something you can say in order to get the position you +covet, that is another thing. People so deceive themselves about this. +I know literary workers who lead a dog's life and are slaves to their +pursuit, simply because they have deceived themselves in this. I want +you to be free and independent, to live your own life and do what work +you can in the world. There, I've said it, and of course you will go +right on. I know you. And maybe I am all wrong. When I see the story I +may take the other side and urge you to go on, even if you are as poor as +a church-mouse, and have to be under the harrow of poverty for years." + +"Then you have some curiosity to see the story?" + +"You know I have. And I know I shall like it. It isn't that, Phil; it +is what is the happiest career for you." + +"Well, I will send it to you when it comes back." + +But the unexpected happened. It did not come back. One morning Philip +received a letter from the publishers that set his head in a whirl. The +story was accepted. The publisher wrote that the verdict of the readers +was favorable, and he would venture on it, though he cautioned Mr. +Burnett not to expect a great commercial success. And he added, as to +terms, it being a new name, though he hoped one that would become famous, +that the copyright of ten per cent. would not begin until after the sale +of the first thousand copies. + +The latter part of the letter made no impression on Philip. So long as +the book was published, and by a respectable firm, he was indifferent as +a lord to the ignoble details of royalty. The publisher had recognized +the value of the book, and it was accepted on its merits. That was +enough. The first thing he did was to enclose the letter to Celia, with +the simple remark that he would try to sympathize with her in her +disappointment. + +Philip would have been a little less jubilant if he had known how the +decision of the publishing house was arrived at. It was true that the +readers had reported favorably, but had refused to express any opinion on +the market value. The manuscript had therefore been put in the grave- +yard of manuscripts, from which there is commonly no resurrection except +in the funeral progress of the manuscript back to the author. But the +head of the house happened to dine at the house of Mr. Hunt, the senior +of Philip's law firm. Some chance allusion was made by a lady to an +article in a recent magazine which had pleased her more than anything she +had seen lately. Mr. Hunt also had seen it, for his wife had insisted on +reading it to him, and he was proud to say that the author was a clerk in +his office--a fine fellow, who, he always fancied, had more taste for +literature than for law, but he had the stuff in him to succeed in +anything. The publisher pricked up his ears and asked some questions. +He found that Mr. Burnett stood well in the most prominent law firm in +the city, that ladies of social position recognized his talent, that he +dined here and there in a good set, and that he belonged to one of the +best clubs. When he went to his office the next morning he sent for the +manuscript, looked it over critically, and then announced to his partners +that he thought the thing was worth trying. + +In a day or two it was announced in the advertising lists as forthcoming. +There it stared Philip in the face and seemed to be the only conspicuous +thing in the journal. He had not paid much attention before to the +advertisements, but now this department seemed the most interesting part +of the paper, and he read every announcement, and then came back and read +his over and over. There it stood:--"On Saturday, The Puritan Nun. An +Idyl. By Philip Burnett." + +The naming of the book had been almost as difficult as the creation. His +first choice had been "The Lily of the Valley," but Balzac had pre-empted +that. And then he had thought of "The Enclosed Garden" (Hortus Clausus), +the title of a lovely picture he had seen. That was Biblical, but in the +present ignorance of the old scriptures it would be thought either +agricultural or sentimental. It is not uncommon that a book owes its +notoriety and sale to its title, and it is not easy to find a title that +will attract attention without being too sensational. The title chosen +was paradoxical, for while a nun might be a puritan, it was unthinkable +that a Puritan should be a nun. + +Mr. Brad said he liked it, because it looked well and did not mean +anything; he liked all such titles, the "Pious Pirate," the "Lucid +Lunatic," the "Sympathetic Siren," the "Guileless Girl," and so on. + +The announcement of publication had the effect of putting Philip in high +spirits for the Mavick reception-spirits tempered, however, by the +embarrassment natural to a modest man that he would be painfully +conspicuous. This first placarding of one's name is a peculiar and mixed +sensation. The letters seem shamefully naked, and the owner seems +exposed and to have parted with a considerable portion of his innate +privacy. His first fancy is that everybody will see it. But this fancy +only comes once. With experience he comes to doubt if anybody except +himself will see it. + +To those most concerned the Mavick reception was the event of a lifetime. +To the town--that is, to a thousand or two persons occupying in their own +eyes an exclusive position it was one of the events of the season, and, +indeed, it was the sensation for a couple of days. The historian of +social life formerly had put upon him the task of painfully describing +all that went to make such an occasion brilliant--the house itself, the +decorations, the notable company, men distinguished in the State or the +Street, women as remarkable for their beauty as for their courage in its +exhibition, the whole world of fashion and of splendid extravagance upon +which the modiste and the tailor could look with as much pride as the +gardener does upon a show of flowers which his genius has brought to +perfection. + +The historian has no longer this responsibility. It is transferred to a +kind of trust. A race of skillful artists has arisen, who, in +combination with the caterers, the decorators, and the milliners, produce +a composite piece of literature in which all details are woven into a +splendid whole--a composition rhetorical, humorous, lyrical, a noble +apotheosis of wealth and beauty which carefully satisfies individual +vanity and raises in the mind a noble picture of modern civilization. +The pen and the pencil contribute to this splendid result in the daily +chronicle of our life. Those who are not present are really witnesses of +the scene, and this pictorial and literary triumph is justified in the +fact that no other effort of the genius of reproduction is so eagerly +studied by the general public. Not only in the city, but in the remote +villages, these accounts are perused with interest, and it must be taken +as an evidence of the new conception of the duties of the favored of +fortune to the public pleasure that the participants in these fetes +overcome, though reluctantly, their objection to notoriety. + +No other people in the world are so hospitable as the Americans, and so +willing to incur discomfort in showing hospitality. No greater proof of +this can be needed than the effort to give princely entertainments in un- +princely houses, where opposing streams of guests fight for progress in +scant passages and on narrow stairways, and pack themselves in stifling +rooms. The Mavick house, it should be said, was perfectly adapted to the +throng that seemed to fill but did not crowd it. The spacious halls, the +noble stairways, the ample drawing-rooms, the ballroom, the music-room, +the library, the picture-gallery, the dining-room, the conservatory--into +these the crowd flowed or lingered without confusion or annoyance and in +a continual pleasure of surprise. "The best point of view," said an +artist of Philip's acquaintance, "is just here." They were standing in +the great hall looking up at that noble gallery from which flowed down on +either hand a broad stairway. + +"I didn't know there was so much beauty in New York. It never before had +such an opportunity to display itself. There is room for the exhibition +of the most elaborate toilets, and the costumes really look regal in such +a setting." + +When Philip was shown to the dressing-room, conscious that the servant +was weighing him lightly in the social scale on account of his early +arrival, he found a few men who were waiting to make their appearance +more seasonable. They were young men, who had the air of being bored by +this sort of thing, and greeted each other with a look of courteous +surprise, as much as to say, "Hello! you here?" One of them, whom Philip +knew slightly, who had the reputation of being the distributer if not the +fountain of social information, and had the power of attracting gossip as +a magnet does iron filings, gave Philip much valuable information +concerning the function. + +"Mrs. Mavick has done it this time. Everybody has tumbled in. +Washington is drained of its foreign diplomats, the heavy part of the +cabinet is moved over to represent the President, who sent a gracious +letter, the select from Boston, the most ancient from Philadelphia, and I +know that Chicago comes in a special train. Oh, it's the thing. I +assure you there was a scramble for invitations in the city. Lots of +visiting nobility--Count de 1'Auney, I know, and that little snob, Lord +Montague." + +"Who is he?" + +"Lord Crewe Monmouth Fitzwilliam, the Marquis of Montague, eldest son of +the Duke of Tewkesbury. He's a daisy. + +They say he is over here looking for capital to carry on his peer +business when he comes into it. Don't know who put up the money for the +trip. These foreigners keep a sharp eye on our market, I can tell you. +They say she is a nice little girl, rather a blue-stocking, face rather +intelligent than pretty, but Montague won't care for that--excuse the old +joke, but it is the figure Monte is after. He hasn't any manners, but +he's not a bad sort of a fellow, generally good-natured, immensely +pleased with New York, and an enthusiastic connoisseur in club drinks." + +At the proper hour--the hour, it came into, his mind, when the dear ones +at Rivervale had been long in sleep, lulled by the musical flow of the +Deerfield--Philip made his way to the reception room, where there +actually was some press of a crowd, in lines, to approach the attraction +of the evening, and as he waited his turn he had leisure to observe the +brilliant scene. There was scarcely a person in the room he knew. One +or two ladies gave him a preoccupied nod, a plain little woman whom he +had talked with about books at a recent dinner smiled upon him +encouragingly. But what specially impressed him at the moment was the +seriousness of the function, the intentness upon the presentation, and +the look of worry on the faces of the women in arranging trains and +avoiding catastrophes. + +As he approached he fancied that Mr. Mavick looked weary and bored, and +that a shade of abstraction occasionally came over his face as if it were +difficult to keep his thoughts on the changing line. + +But his face lighted up a little when he took Philip's hand and exchanged +with him the commonplaces of the evening. But before this he had to wait +a moment, for he was preceded by an important personage. A dapper little +figure, trim, neat, at the moment drew himself up before Mrs. Mavick, +brought his heels together with a click, and made a low bow. Doubtless +this was the French count. Mrs. Mavick was radiant. Philip had never +seen her in such spirits or so fascinating in manner. + +"It is a great honor, count." + +"It ees to me," said the count, with a marked accent; "I assure you it is +like Paris in ze time of ze monarchy. Ah, ze Great Republic, madame--so +it was in France in ze ancien regime. Ah, mademoiselle! Permit me," and +he raised her hand to his lips; "I salute--is it not" (turning to Mrs. +Mavick)--"ze princess of ze house?" + +The next man who shook hands with the host, and then stood in an easy +attitude before the hostess, attracted Philip's attention strongly, for +he fancied from the deference shown him it must be the lord of whom he +had heard. He was a short, little man, with heavy limbs and a clumsy +figure, reddish hair, very thin on the crown, small eyes that were not +improved in expression by white eyebrows, a red face, smooth shaven and +freckled. It might have been the face of a hostler or a billiard-marker. + +"I am delighted, my lord, that you could make room in your engagements to +come." + +"Ah, Mrs. Mavick, I wouldn't have missed it," said my lord, with easy +assurance; "I'd have thrown over anything to have come. And, do you +know" (looking about him coolly), "it's quite English, 'pon my honor, +quite English--St. James and that sort of thing." + +"You flatter me, my lord," replied the lady of the house, with a winning +smile. + +"No, I do assure you, it's bang-up. Ah, Miss Mavick, delighted, +delighted. Most charming. Lucky for me, wasn't it? I'm just in time." + +"You've only recently come over, Lord Montague?" asked Evelyn. + +"Been here before--Rockies, shooting, all that. Just arrived now-- +beastly trip, beastly." + +"And so you were glad to land?" + +"Glad to land anywhere. But New York suits me down to the ground. +It goes, as you say over here. You know Paris?" + +"We have been in Paris. You prefer it?" + +"For some thing. Paris as it was in the Empire. For sport, no. +For horses, no. And" (looking boldly into her face) "when you speak of +American women, Paris ain't in it, as you say over here." + +And the noble lord, instead of passing on, wheeled about and took a +position near Evelyn, so that he could drop his valuable observations +into her ear as occasion offered. + +To Philip Mrs. Mavick was civil, but she did not beam upon him, and she +did not detain him longer than to say, "Glad to see you." But Evelyn-- +could Philip be deceived?--she gave him her hand cordially and looked +into his eyes trustfully, as she had the habit of doing in the country, +and as if it were a momentary relief to her to encounter in all this +parade a friend. + +"I need not say that I am glad you could come. And oh" (there was time +only for a word), "I saw the announcement. Later, if you can, you will +tell me more about it." + +Lord Montague stared at him as if to say, "Who the deuce are you?" and as +Philip met his gaze he thought, "No, he hasn't the manner of a stable +boy; no one but a born nobleman could be so confident with women and so +supercilious to men." + +But my lord, was little in his thought. It was the face of Evelyn that +he saw, and the dainty little figure; the warmth of the little hand still +thrilled him. So simple, and only a bunch of violets in her corsage for +all ornament! The clear, dark complexion, the sweet mouth, the wonderful +eyes! What could Jenks mean by intimating that she was plain? + +Philip drifted along with the crowd. He was very much alone. And he +enjoyed his solitude. A word and a smile now and then from an +acquaintance did not tempt him to come out of his seclusion. The gay +scene pleased him. He looked for a moment into the ballroom. At another +time he would have tried his fortune in the whirl. But now he looked on +as at a spectacle from which he was detached. He had had his moment and +he waited for another. The voluptuous music, the fascinating toilets, +the beautiful faces, the graceful forms that were woven together in this +shifting kaleidoscope, were, indeed, a part of his beautiful dream. But +how unreal they all were! There was no doubt that Evelyn's eyes had +kindled for him as for no one else whom she had greeted. She singled him +out in all this crush, her look, the cordial pressure of her hand, +conveyed the feeling of comradeship and understanding. This was enough +to fill his thought with foolish anticipations. Is there any being quite +so happy, quite so stupid, as a lover? A lover, who hopes everything and +fears everything, who goes in an instant from the heights of bliss to the +depths of despair. + +When the "reception" was over and the company was breaking up into groups +and moving about, Philip again sought Evelyn. But she was the centre of +a somewhat noisy group, and it was not easy to join it. + +Yet it was something that he could feast his eyes on her and was rewarded +by a look now and then that told him she was conscious of his presence. +Encouraged by this, he was making his way to her, when there was a +movement towards the supper-room, and Mrs. Mavick had taken the arm of +the Count de l'Auney, and the little lord was jauntily leading away +Evelyn. Philip had a pang of disgust and jealousy. Evelyn was actually +chatting with him and seemed amused. Lord Montague was evidently laying +himself out to please and exerting all the powers of his subtle humor and +exploiting his newly acquired slang. That Philip could hear as they +moved past him. "The brute!" Philip said to himself, with the injustice +which always clouds the estimate of a lover of a rival whose +accomplishments differ from his own. + +In the supper-room, however, in the confusion and crowding of it, Philip +at length found his opportunity to get to the side of Evelyn, whose smile +showed him that he was welcome. It was in that fortunate interval when +Lord Montague was showing that devotion to women was not incompatible +with careful attention to terrapin and champagne. Philip was at once +inspired to say: + +"How lovely it is! Aren't you tired?" + +"Not at all. Everybody is very kind, and some are very amusing. I am +learning a great deal," and there was a quizzical look in her eyes, +"about the world." + +"Well," said Philip, "t's all here." + +"I suppose so. But do you know," and there was quite an ingenuous blush +in her cheeks as she said it, "it isn't half so nice, Mr. Burnett, as a +picnic in Zoar." + +"So you remember that?" Philip had not command of himself enough not to +attempt the sentimental. + +"You must think I have a weak memory," she replied, with a laugh. +"And the story? When shall we have it?" + +"Soon, I hope. And, Miss Mavick, I owe so much of it to you that I hope +you will let me send you the very first copy from the press." + +"Will you? And do you Of course I shall be pleased and" (making him a +little curtsy) "honored, as one ought to say in this company." + +Lord Montague was evidently getting uneasy, for his attention was +distracted from the occupation of feeding. + +"No, don't go Lord Montague, an old friend, Mr. Burnett." + +"Much pleased," said his lordship, looking round rather inquiringly at +the intruder. "I can't say much for the champagne--ah, not bad, you +know--but I always said that your terrapin isn't half so nasty as it +looks." And his lordship laughed most good-humoredly, as if he were +paying the American nation a deserved compliment. + +"Yes," said Philip, "we have to depend upon France for the champagne, but +the terrapin is native." + +"Quite so, and devilish good! That ain't bad, 'depend upon France for +the champagne!' There is nothing like your American humor, Miss Mavick." + +"It needs an Englishman to appreciate it," replied Evelyn, with a twinkle +in her eyes which was lost upon her guest. + +In the midst of these courtesies Philip bowed himself away. The party +was over for him, though he wandered about for a while, was attracted +again by the music to the ballroom, and did find there a dinner +acquaintance with whom he took a turn. The lady must have thought him a +very uninteresting or a very absent-minded companion. + +As for Lord Montague, after he had what he called a "go" in the dancing- +room, he found his way back to the buffet in the supper-room, and the +historian says that he greatly enjoyed himself, and was very amusing, and +that he cultivated the friendship of an obliging waiter early in the +morning, who conducted his lordship to his cab. + + + + +XVII + +The morning after The Puritan Nun was out, as Philip sat at his office +desk, conscious that the eyes of the world were on him, Mr. Mavick +entered, bowed to him absent-mindedly, and was shown into Mr. Hunt's +room. + +Philip had dreaded to come to the office that morning and encounter the +inquisition and perhaps the compliments of his fellow-clerks. +He had seen his name in staring capitals in the book-seller's window as +he came down, and he felt that it was shamefully exposed to the public +gaze, and that everybody had seen it. The clerks, however, gave no sign +that the event had disturbed them. He had encountered many people he +knew on the street, but there had been no recognition of his leap into +notoriety. Not a fellow in the club, where he had stopped a moment, had +treated him with any increased interest or deference. In the office only +one person seemed aware of his extraordinary good fortune. Mr. Tweedle +had come to the desk and offered his hand in his usual conciliatory and +unctuous manner. + +"I see by the paper, Mr. Burnett, that we are an author. Let me +congratulate you. Mrs. Tweedle told me not to come home without bringing +your story. Who publishes it?" + +"I shall be much honored," said Philip, blushing, "if Mrs. Tweedle will +accept a copy from me." + +"I didn't mean that, Mr. Burnett; but, of course, gift of the author-- +Mrs. Tweedle will be very much pleased." + +In half an hour Mr. Mavick came out, passed him without recognition, and +hurried from the office, and Philip was summoned to Mr. Hunt's room. + +"I want you to go to Washington immediately, Mr. Burnett. Return by the +night train. You can do without your grip? Take these papers to +Buckston Higgins--you see the address--who represents the British +Argentine syndicate. Wait till he reads them and get his reply. Here is +the money for the trip. Oh, after Mr. Higgins writes his answer, ask him +if you can telegraph me 'yes' or 'no.' Good-morning." + +While Philip was speeding to Washington, an important conference was +taking place in Murad Ault's office. He was seated at his desk, and +before him lay two despatches, one from Chicago and a cable from London. +Opposite him, leaning forward in his chair, was a lean, hatchet-faced +man, with keen eyes and aquiline nose, who watched his old curbstone +confidant like a cat. + +"I tell you, Wheatstone," said Mr. Ault, with an unmoved face, bringing +his fist down on the table, "now is the time to sell these three stocks." + +"Why," said Mr. Wheatstone, with a look of wonder, "they are about the +strongest on the list. Mavick controls them." + +"Does he?" said Ault. "Then he can take care of them." + +"Have you any news, Mr. Ault?" + +"Nothing to speak of," replied Ault, grimly. "It just looks so to me. +All you've got to do is to sell. Make a break this afternoon, about two +or three points off." + +"They are too strong," protested Mr. Wheatstone. + +"That is just the reason. Everybody will think something must be the +matter, or nobody would be fool enough to sell. You keep your eye on the +Spectrum this afternoon and tomorrow morning. About Organization and one +or two other matters." + +"Ah, they do say that Mavick is in Argentine up to his neck," said the +broker, beginning to be enlightened. + +"Is he? Then you think he would rather sell than buy?" + +Mr. Wheatstone laughed and looked admiringly at his leader. "He may have +to." + +Mr. Ault took up the cable cipher and read it to himself again. If Mr. +Hunt had known its contents he need not have waited for Philip to +telegraph "no" from Washington. + +"It's all right, Wheatstone. It's the biggest thing you ever struck. +Pitch 'em overboard in the morning. The Street is shaky about Argentine. +There'll be h--- to pay before half past twelve. I guess you can safely +go ten points. Lower yet, if Mavick's brokers begin to unload. I guess +he will have to unless he can borrow. Rumor is a big thing, especially +in a panic, eh? Keep your eye peeled. And, oh, won't you ask Babcock to +step round here?" + +Mr. Babcock came round, and had his instructions when to buy. He had the +reputation of being a reckless broker, and not a safe man to follow. + +The panic next day, both in London and New York, was long remembered. In +the unreasoning scare the best stocks were sacrificed. Small country +"investors" lost their stakes. Some operators were ruined. Many men +were poorer at the end of the scrimmage, and a few were richer. Murad +Ault was one of the latter. Mavick pulled through, though at an enormous +cost, and with some diminution of the notion of his solidity. The wise +ones suspected that his resources had been overestimated, or that they +were not so well at his command as had been supposed. + +When he went home that night he looked five years older, and was too worn +and jaded to be civil to his family. The dinner passed mostly in +silence. Carmen saw that something serious had happened. Lord Montague +had called. + +"Eh, what did he want?" said Mavick, surlily. + +Carmen looked up surprised. "What does anybody after a reception call +for?" + +"The Lord only knows." + +"He is the funniest little man," Evelyn ventured to say. + +"That is no way, child, to speak of the son of a duke," said Mavick, +relaxing a little. + +Carmen did not like the tone in which this was said, but she prudently +kept silent. And presently Evelyn continued: + +"He asked for you, papa, and said he wanted to pay his respects." + +"I am glad he wants to pay anything," was the ungracious answer. Still +Evelyn was not to be put down. + +"It was such a bright day in the Park. What were you doing all day, +papa?" + +"Why, my dear, I was engaged in Research; you will be pleased to know. +Looking after those ten millions." + +When the dinner was over, Carmen followed Mr. Mavick to his study. + +"What is the matter, Tom?" + +"Nothing uncommon. It's a beastly hole down there. The Board used to be +made up of gentlemen. Now there are such fellows as Ault, a black- +hearted scoundrel." + +"But he has no influence. He is nothing socially," said Carmen. + +"Neither is a wolf or a cyclone. But I don't care to talk about him. +Don't you see, I don't want to be bothered?" + +While these great events were taking place Philip was enjoying all the +tremors and delights of expectation which attend callow authorship. He +did not expect much, he said to himself, but deep down in his heart there +was that sweet hope, which fortunately always attends young writers, that +his would be an exceptional experience in the shoal of candidates for +fame, and he was secretly preparing himself not to be surprised if he +should "awake one morning and find himself famous." + +The first response was from Celia. She wrote warm-heartedly. She wrote +at length, analyzing the characters, recalling the striking scenes, and +praising without stint the conception and the working out of the +character of the heroine. She pointed out the little faults of +construction and of language, and then minimized them in comparison with +the noble motive and the unity and beauty of the whole. She told Philip +that she was proud of him, and then insisted that, when his biography, +life, and letters was published, it would appear, she hoped, that his +dear friend had just a little to do with inspiring him. It was exactly +the sort of letter an author likes to receive, critical, perfectly +impartial, and with entire understanding of his purpose. All the author +wants is to be understood. + +The letter from Alice was quite of another sort, a little shy in speaking +of the story, but full of affection. "Perhaps, dear Phil," she wrote, "I +ought not to tell you how much I like it, how it quite makes me blush in +its revelation of the secrets of a New England girl's heart. I read it +through fast, and then I read it again slowly. It seemed better even the +second time. I do think, Phil, it is a dear little book. Patience says +she hopes it will not become common; it is too fine to be nosed about by +the ordinary. I suppose you had to make it pathetic. Dear me! that is +just the truth of it. Forgive me for writing so freely. I hope it will +not be long before we see you. To think it is done by little Phil!" + +The most eagerly expected acknowledgment was, however, a disappointment. +Philip knew Mrs. Mavick too well by this time to expect a letter from her +daughter, but there might have been a line. But Mrs. Mavick wrote +herself. Her daughter, she said, had asked her to acknowledge the +receipt of his very charming story. When he had so many friends it was +very thoughtful in him to remember the acquaintances of last summer. She +hoped the book would have the success it deserved. + +This polite note was felt to be a slap in the face, but the effect of it +was softened a little later by a cordial and appreciative letter from +Miss McDonald, telling the author what great delight and satisfaction +they had had in reading it, and thanking him for a prose idyl that showed +in the old-fashioned way that common life was not necessarily vulgar. + +The critics seemed to Philip very slow in letting the public know of the +birth of the book. Presently, however, the little notices, all very much +alike, began to drop along, longer or shorter paragraphs, commonly in +undiscriminating praise of the beauty of the story, the majority of them +evidently written by reviewers who sat down to a pile of volumes to be +turned off, and who had not more than five or ten minutes to be lost. +Rarely, however, did any one condemn it, and that showed that it was +harmless. Mr. Brad had given it quite a lift in the Spectrum. The +notice was mainly personal--the first work of a brilliant young man at +the bar who was destined to go high in his profession, unless literature +should, fortunately for the public, have stronger attractions for him. +That such a country idyl should be born amid law-books was sufficiently +remarkable. It was an open secret that the scene of the story was the +birthplace of the author--a lovely village that was brought into notice a +summer ago as the chosen residence of Thomas Mavick and his family. + +Eagerly looked for at first, the newspaper notices soon palled upon +Philip, the uniform tone of good-natured praise, unanimous in the +extravagance of unmeaning adjectives. Now and then he welcomed one that +was ill-natured and cruelly censorious. That was a relief. And yet +there were some reviews of a different sort, half a dozen in all, and +half of them from Western journals, which took the book seriously, saw +its pathos, its artistic merit, its failure of construction through +inexperience. A few commended it warmly to readers who loved ideal +purity and could recognize the noble in common life. And some, whom +Philip regarded as authorities, welcomed a writer who avoided +sensationalism, and predicted for him an honorable career in letters, if +he did not become self-conscious and remained true to his ideals. +The book clearly had not made a hit, the publishers had sold one edition +and ordered half another, and no longer regarded the author as a risk. +But, better than this, the book had attracted the attention of many +lovers of literature. Philip was surprised day after day by meeting +people who had read it. His name began to be known in a small circle who +are interested in the business, and it was not long before he had offers +from editors, who were always on the lookout for new writers of promise, +to send something for their magazines. And, perhaps more flattering than +all, he began to have society invitations to dine, and professional +invitations to those little breakfasts that publishers give to old +writers and to young whose names are beginning to be spoken of. All this +was very exhilarating and encouraging. And yet Philip was not allowed to +be unduly elated by the attention of his fellow-craftsmen, for he soon +found that a man's consequence in this circle, as well as with the great +public, depended largely upon the amount of the sale of his book. How +else should it be rated, when a very popular author, by whom Philip sat +one day at luncheon, confessed that he never read books? + +"So," said Mr. Sharp, one morning, "I see you have gone into literature, +Mr. Burnett." + +"Not very deep," replied Philip with a smile, as he rose from his desk. + +"Going to drop law, eh?" + +"I haven't had occasion to drop much of anything yet," said Philip, still +smiling. + +"Oh well, two masters, you know," and Mr. Sharp passed on to his room. + +It was not, however, Mr. Sharp's opinion that Philip was concerned about. +The polite note from Mrs. Mavick stuck in his mind. It was a civil way +of telling him that all summer debts were now paid, and that his +relations with the house of Mavick were at an end. This conclusion was +forced upon him when he left his card, a few days after the reception, +and had the ill luck not to find the ladies at home. The situation had +no element of tragedy in it, but Philip was powerless. He could not +storm the house. He had no visible grievance. There was nothing to +fight. He had simply run against one of the invisible social barriers +that neither offer resistance nor yield. No one had shown him any +discourtesy that society would recognize as a matter of offense. Nay, +more than that, it could have no sympathy with him. It was only the case +of a presumptuous and poor young man who was after a rich girl. The +position itself was ignoble, if it were disclosed. + +Yet fortune, which sometimes likes to play the mischief with the best +social arrangements, did give Philip an unlooked-for chance. At a dinner +given by the lady who had been Philip's only partner at the Mavick +reception, and who had read his story and had written to "her partner" a +most kind little note regretting that she had not known she was dancing +with an author, and saying that she and her husband would be delighted to +make his acquaintance, Philip was surprised by the presence of the +Mavicks in the drawing-room. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Mavick seemed +especially pleased when they encountered him, and in fact his sole +welcome from the family was in the eyes of Evelyn. + +The hostess had supposed that the Mavicks would be pleased to meet the +rising author, and in still further carrying out her benevolent purpose, +and with, no doubt, a sympathy in the feelings of the young, Mrs. Van +Cortlandt had assigned Miss Mavick to Mr. Burnett. It was certainly a +natural arrangement, and yet it called a blank look to Mrs. Mavick's +face, that Philip saw, and put her in a bad humor which needed an effort +for her to conceal it from Mr. Van Cortlandt. The dinner-party was +large, and her ill-temper was not assuaged by the fact that the young +people were seated at a distance from her and on the same side of the +table. + +"How charming your daughter is looking, Mrs. Mavick!" Mr. Van Cortlandt +began, by way of being agreeable. Mrs. Mavick inclined her head. "That +young Burnett seems to be a nice sort of chap; Mrs. Van Cortlandt says he +is very clever." + +"Yes?" + +"I haven't read his book. They say he is a lawyer." + +"Lawyer's clerk, I believe," said Mrs. Mavick, indifferently. + +"Authors are pretty plenty nowadays." + +"That's a fact. Everybody writes. I don't see how all the poor devils +live." Mr. Van Cortlandt had now caught the proper tone, and the +conversation drifted away from personalities. + +It was a very brilliant dinner, but Philip could not have given much +account of it. He made an effort to be civil to his left-hand neighbor, +and he affected an ease in replying to cross-table remarks. He fancied +that he carried himself very well, and so he did for a man unexpectedly +elevated to the seventh heaven, seated for two hours beside the girl +whose near presence filled him with indescribable happiness. Every look, +every tone of her voice thrilled him. How dear she was! how adorable she +was! How radiantly happy she seemed to be whenever she turned her face +towards him to ask a question or to make a reply! + +At moments his passion seemed so overmastering that he could hardly +restrain himself from whispering, "Evelyn, I love you." In a hundred +ways he was telling her so. And she must understand. She must know that +this was not an affair of the moment, but that there was condensed in it +all the constant devotion of months and months. + +A woman, even any girl with the least social experience, would have seen +this. Was Evelyn's sympathetic attention, her evident enjoyment in +talking with him, any evidence of a personal interest, or only a young +girl's enjoyment of her new position in the world? That she liked him he +was sure. Did she, was she beginning in any degree to return his +passion? He could not tell, for guilelessness in a woman is as +impenetrable as coquetry. + +Of what did they talk? A stenographer would have made a meagre report of +it, for the most significant part of this conversation of two fresh, +honest natures was not in words. One thing, however, Philip could bring +away with him that was not a mere haze of delicious impressions. She had +been longing, she said, to talk to him about his story. She told him how +eagerly she had read it, and in talking about its meaning she revealed to +him her inner thought more completely than she could have done in any +other way, her sympathy with his mind, her interest in his work. + +"Have you begun another?" she asked, at last. + +"No, not on paper." + +"But you must. It must be such a world to you. I can't imagine anything +so fine as that. There is so much about life to be said. +To make people see it as it is; yes, and as it ought to be. Will you?" + +"You forget that I am a lawyer." + +"And you prefer to be that, a lawyer, rather than an author?" + +"It is not exactly what I prefer, Miss Mavick." + +"Why not? Does anybody do anything well if his heart is not in it?" + +"But circumstances sometimes compel a man." + +"I like better for men to compel circumstances," the girl exclaimed, with +that disposition to look at things in the abstract that Philip so well +remembered. + +"Perhaps I do not make myself understood. One must have a career." + +"A career?" And Evelyn looked puzzled for a moment. "You mean for +himself, for his own self?" There is a lawyer who comes to see papa. +I've been in the room sometimes, when they don't mind. Such talk about +schemes, and how to do this and that, and twisting about. And not a word +about anything any of the time. And one day when he was waiting for papa +I talked with him. You would have been surprised. + +I told papa that I could not find anything to interest him. Papa laughed +and said it was my fault, he was one of the sharpest lawyers in the city. +Would you rather be that than to write?" + +"Oh, all lawyers are not like that. And, don't you know, literature +doesn't pay." + +"Yes, I have heard that." And then she thought a minute and with a +quizzical look continued: "That is such a queer word, 'pay.' McDonald +says that it pays to be good. Do you think, Mr. Burnett, that law would +pay you?" + +Evidently the girl had a standard of judging people that was not much in +use. + +Before they rose from the table, Philip asked, speaking low, "Miss +Mavick, won't you give me a violet from your bunch in memory of this +evening?" + +Evelyn hesitated an instant, and then, without looking up, disengaged +three, and shyly laid them at her left hand. "I like the number three +better." + +Philip covered the flowers with his hand, and said, "I will keep them +always." + +"That is a long time," Evelyn answered, but still without looking up. +But when they rose the color mounted to her cheeks, and Philip thought +that the glorious eyes turned upon him were full of trust. + +"It is all your doing," said Carmen, snappishly, when Mavick joined her +in the drawing-room. + +"What is?" + +"You insisted upon having him at the reception." + +"Burnett? Oh, stuff, he isn't a fool!" + +There was not much said as the three drove home. Evelyn, flushed with +pleasure and absorbed in her own thoughts, saw that something had gone +wrong with her mother and kept silent. Mr. Mavick at length broke the +silence with: + +"Did you have a good time, child?" + +"Oh, yes," replied Evelyn, cheerfully, "and Mrs. Van Cortlandt was very +sweet to me. Don't you think she is very hospitable, mamma?" + +"Tries to be," Mrs. Mavick replied, in no cordial tone. "Good-natured +and eccentric. She picks up the queerest lot of people. You can never +know whom you will not meet at her house. Just now she goes in for being +literary." + +Evelyn was not so reticent with McDonald. While she was undressing she +disclosed that she had had a beautiful evening, that she was taken out by +Mr. Burnett, and talked about his story. + +"And, do you know, I think I almost persuaded him to write another." + +"It's an awful responsibility," dryly said the shrewd Scotch woman, +"advising young men what to do." + + + + +XVIII + +Upon the recollection of this dinner Philip maintained his hope and +courage for a long time. The day after it, New York seemed more +brilliant to him than it had ever been. In the afternoon he rode down to +the Battery. It was a mild winter day, with a haze in the atmosphere +that softened all outlines and gave an enchanting appearance to the +harbor shores. The water was silvery, and he watched a long time the +craft plying on it--the businesslike ferry-boats, the spiteful tugs, the +great ocean steamers, boldly pushing out upon the Atlantic through the +Narrows or cautiously drawing in as if weary with the buffeting of the +waves. The scene kindled in him a vigorous sense of life, of prosperity, +of longing for the activity of the great world. + +Clearly he must do something and not be moping in indecision. +Uncertainty is harder to bear than disaster itself. When he thought of +Evelyn, and he always thought of her, it seemed cowardly to hesitate. +Celia, after her first outburst of enthusiasm, had returned to her +cautious advice. The law was much surer. Literature was a mere chance. +Why not be content with his little success and buckle down to his +profession? Perhaps by-and-by he would have leisure to indulge his +inclination. The advice seemed sound. + +But there was Evelyn, with her innocent question. + +"Would the law pay you?" Evelyn? Would he be more likely to win her by +obeying the advice of Celia, or by trusting to Evelyn's inexperienced +discernment? Indeed, what chance was there to win her at all? What had +he to offer her? + +His spirits invariably fell when he thought of submitting his pretensions +to the great man of Wall Street or to his worldly wife. Already it was +the gossip of the clubs that Lord Montague was a frequent visitor at the +Mavicks', that he was often seen in their box at the opera, and that Mrs. +Mavick had said to Bob Shafter that it was a scandal to talk of Lord +Montague as a fortune-hunter. He was a most kind-hearted, domestic man. +She should not join in the newspaper talk about him. He belonged to an +old English family, and she should be civil to him. Generally she did +not fancy Englishmen, and this one she liked neither better nor worse +because he had a title. And when you came to that, why shouldn't any +American girl marry her equal? + +As to Montague, he was her friend, and she knew that he had not the least +intention at present of marrying anybody. And then the uncharitable +gossip went on, that there was the Count de l'Auney, and that Mrs. Mavick +was playing the one off against the other. + +As the days went on and spring began to appear in the light, fleeting +clouds in the blue sky and in the greening foliage in the city squares, +Philip became more and more restless. The situation was intolerable. +Evelyn he could never see. Perhaps she wondered that he made no effort +to see her. Perhaps she never thought of him at all, and simply, like an +obedient child, accepted her mother's leading, and was getting to like +that society life which was recorded in the daily journals. What did it +matter to him whether he stuck to the law or launched himself into the +Bohemia of literature, so long as doubt about Evelyn haunted him day and +night? If she was indifferent to him, he would know the worst, and go +about his business like a man. Who were the Mavicks, anyway? + +Alice had written him once that Evelyn was a dear girl, no one could help +loving her; but she did not like the blood of father and mother. "And +remember, Phil--you must let me say this--there is not a drop of mean +blood in your ancestors." + +Philip smiled at this. He was not in love with Mrs. Mavick nor with her +husband. They were for him simply guardians of a treasure he very much +coveted, and yet they were to a certain extent ennobled in his mind as +the authors of the being he worshiped. If it should be true that his +love for her was returned, it would not be possible even for them to +insist upon a course that would make their daughter unhappy for life. +They might reject him--no doubt he was a wholly unequal match for the +heiress--but could they, to the very end, be cruel to her? + +Thus the ingenuous young man argued with himself, until it seemed plain +to him that if Evelyn loved him, and the conviction grew that she did, +all obstacles must give way to this overmastering passion of his life. +If he were living in a fool's paradise he would know it, and he ventured +to put his fortune to the test of experiment. The only manly course was +to gain the consent of the parents to ask their daughter to marry him; if +not that, then to be permitted to see her. He was nobly resolved to +pledge himself to make no proposals to her without their approval. + +This seemed a very easy thing to do until he attempted it. He would +simply happen into Mr. Mavick's office, and, as Mr. Mavick frequently +talked familiarly with him, he would contrive to lead the conversation to +Evelyn, and make his confession. He mapped out the whole conversation, +and even to the manner in which he would represent his own prospects and +ambitions and his hopes of happiness. Of course Mr. Mavick would evade, +and say that it would be a long time before they should think of +disposing of their daughter's hand, and that--well, he must see himself +that he was in no position to support a wife accustomed to luxury; +in short, that one could not create situations in real life as he could +in novels, that personally he could give him no encouragement, +but that he would consult his wife. + +This dream got no further than a private rehearsal. When he called at +Mr. Mavick's office he learned that Mr. Mavick had gone to the Pacific +coast, and that he would probably be absent several weeks. But Philip +could not wait. He resolved to end his torture by a bold stroke. +He wrote to Mrs. Mavick, saying that he had called at Mr. Mavick's +office, and, not finding him at home, he begged that she would give him +an interview concerning a matter of the deepest personal interest to +himself. + +Mrs. Mavick understood in an instant what this meant. She had feared it. +Her first impulse was to write him a curt note of a character that would +end at once all intercourse. On second thought she determined to see +him, to discover how far the affair had gone, and to have it out with him +once for all. She accordingly wrote that she would have a few minutes at +half past five the next day. + +As Philip went up the steps of the Mavick house at the appointed hour, he +met coming out of the door--and it seemed a bad omen--Lord Montague, who +seemed in high spirits, stared at Philip without recognition, whistled +for his cab, and drove away. + +Mrs. Mavick received him politely, and, without offering her hand, asked +him to be seated. Philip was horribly embarrassed. The woman was so +cool, so civil, so perfectly indifferent. He stammered out something +about the weather and the coming spring, and made an allusion to the +dinner at Mrs. Van Cortlandt's. Mrs. Mavick was not in the mood to help +him with any general conversation, and presently said, looking at her +watch: + +"You wrote me that you wanted to consult me. Is there anything I can do +for you?" + +"It was a personal matter," said Philip, getting control of himself. + +"So you wrote. Mr. Mavick is away, and if it is in regard to anything in +your office, any promotion, you know, I don't understand anything about +business." And Mrs. Mavick smiled graciously. + +"No, it is not about the office. I should not think of troubling my +friends in that way. It is just that--" + +"Oh, I see," Mrs. Mavick interrupted, with good-humor, "it's about the +novel. I hear that it has sold very well. And you are not certain +whether its success will warrant your giving up your clerkship. Now as +for me," and she leaned back in her chair, with the air of weighing the +chances in her mind, "it doesn't seem to me that a writer--" + +"No, it is not that," said Philip, leaning forward and looking her full +in the face with all the courage he could summon, "it is your daughter." + +"What!" cried Mrs. Mavick, in a tone of incredulous surprise. + +"I was afraid you would think me very presumptuous." + +"Presumptuous! Why, she is a child. Do you know what you are talking +about?" + +"My mother married at eighteen," said Philip, gently. + +"That is an interesting piece of information, but I don't see its +bearing. Will you tell me, Mr. Burnett, what nonsense you have got into +your head?" + +"I want," and Philip spoke very gently--"I want, Mrs. Mavick, permission +to see your daughter." + +"Ah! I thought in Rivervale, Mr. Burnett, that you were a gentleman. +You presume upon my invitation to this house, in an underhand way, +to-- What right have you?" + +Mrs. Mavick was so beside herself that she could hardly speak. The lines +in her face deepened into wrinkles and scowls. There was something +malevolent and mean in it. Philip was astonished at the transformation. +And she looked old and ugly in her passion. + +"You!" she repeated. + +"It is only this, Mrs. Mavick," and Philip spoke calmly, though his blood +was boiling at her insulting manner--"it is only this--I love your +daughter." + +"And you have told her this?" + +"No, never, never a word." + +"Does she know anything of this absurd, this silly attempt?" + +"I am afraid not." + +"Ah! Then you have spared yourself one humiliation. My daughter's +affections are not likely to be placed where her parents do not approve. +Her mother is her only confidante. I can tell you, Mr. Burnett, and when +you are over this delusion you will thank me for being so plain with you, +my daughter would laugh at the idea of such a proposal. But I will not +have her annoyed by impecunious aspirants." + +"Madam!" cried Philip, rising, with a flushed face, and then he +remembered that he was talking to Evelyn's mother, and uttered no other +word. + +"This is ended." And then, with a slight change of manner, she went on: +"You must see how impossible it is. You are a man of honor. + +I should like to think well of you. I shall trust to your honor that +you will never try, by letter or otherwise, to hold any communication +with her." + +"I shall obey you," said Philip, quite stiffly, "because you are her +mother. But I love her, and I shall always love her." + +Mrs. Mavick did not condescend to any reply to this, but she made a cold +bow of dismissal and turned away from him. He left the house and walked +away, scarcely knowing in which direction he went, anger for a time being +uppermost in his mind, chagrin and defeat following, and with it the +confused feeling of a man who has passed through a cyclone and been +landed somewhere amid the scattered remnants of his possessions. + +As he strode away he was intensely humiliated. He had been treated like +an inferior. He had voluntarily put himself in a position to be +insulted. Contempt had been poured upon him, his feelings had been +outraged, and there was no way in which he could show his resentment. +Presently, as his anger subsided, he began to look at the matter more +sanely. What had happened? He had made an honorable proposal. But what +right had he to expect that it would be favorably considered? +He knew all along that it was most unlikely that Mrs. Mavick would +entertain for a moment idea of such a match. He knew what would be the +unanimous opinion of society about it. In the case of any other young +man aspiring to the hand of a rich girl, he knew very well what he should +have thought. + +Well, he had done nothing dishonorable. And as he reviewed the bitter +interview he began to console himself with the thought that he had not +lost his temper, that he had said nothing to be regretted, nothing that +he should not have said to the mother of the girl he loved. There was an +inner comfort in this, even if his life were ruined. + +Mrs. Mavick, on the contrary, had not so good reason to be satisfied with +herself. It was a principle of her well-ordered life never to get into a +passion, never to let herself go, never to reveal herself by intemperate +speech, never to any one, except occasionally to her husband when his +cold sarcasm became intolerable. She felt, as soon as the door closed on +Philip, that she had made a blunder, and yet in her irritation she +committed a worse one. She went at once to Evelyn's room, resolved to +make it perfectly sure that the Philip episode was ended. She had had +suspicions about her daughter ever since the Van Cortlandt dinner. She +would find out if they were justified, and she would act decidedly before +any further mischief was done. Evelyn was alone, and her mother kissed +her fondly several times and then threw herself into an easy-chair and +declared she was tired. + +"My dear, I have had such an unpleasant interview." + +"I am sorry," said Evelyn, seating herself on the arm of the chair and +putting her arm round her mother's neck. "With whom, mamma?" + +"Oh, with that Mr. Burnett." Mrs. Mavick felt a nervous start in the arm +that caressed her. + +"Here?" + +"Yes, he came to see your father, I fancy, about some business. I think +he is not getting on very well." + +"Why, his book--" + +"I know, but that amounts to nothing. There is not much chance for a +lawyer's clerk who gets bitten with the idea that he can write." + +"If he was in trouble, mamma," said Evelyn, softly, "then you were good +to him." + +"I tried to be," Mrs. Mavick half sighed, "but you can't do anything with +such people" (by "such people" Mrs. Mavick meant those who have no money) +"when they don't get on. They are never reasonable. And he was in such +an awful bad temper. You cannot show any kindness to such people without +exposing yourself. I think he presumes upon his acquaintance with your +father. It was most disagreeable, and he was so rude" (a little thrill +in the arm again)--"well, not exactly rude, but he was not a bit nice to +me, and I am afraid I showed by my looks that I was irritated. He was +just as disagreeable as he could be. + +He met Lord Montague on the steps, and he had something spiteful to say +about him. I had to tell him he was presuming a good deal on his +acquaintance, and that I considered his manner insulting. He flung out +of the house very high and mighty." + +"That was not a bit like him, mamma." + +"We didn't know him. That is all. Now we do, and I am thankful we do. +He will never come here again." + +Evelyn was very still for a moment, and then she said: "I'm very sorry +for it all. It must be some misunderstanding." + +"Of course, it is dreadful to be so disappointed in people. But we have +to learn. I don't know anything about his misunderstanding, but I did +not misunderstand what he said. At any rate, after such an exposition we +can have no further intercourse with him. You will not care to see any +one who treated your mother in this way? If you love me, you cannot be +friendly with him. I know you would not like to be." + +Evelyn did not reply for a moment. Her silence revealed the fact to the +shrewd woman that she had not intervened a day too soon. + +"You promise me, dear, that you will put the whole thing out of your +mind?" and she drew her daughter closer to her and kissed her. + +And then Evelyn said slowly: "I shall not have any friends whom you do +not approve, but, mamma, I cannot be unjust in my mind." + +And Mrs. Mavick had the good sense not to press the question further. +She still regarded Evelyn as a child. Her naivete, her simplicity, her +ignorance of social conventions and of the worldly wisdom which to Mrs. +Mavick was the sum of all knowledge misled her mother as to her power of +discernment and her strength of character. Indeed, Mrs. Mavick had only +the slightest conception of that range of thought and feeling in which +the girl habitually lived, and of the training which at the age of +eighteen had given her discipline, and great maturity of judgment as +well. She would be obedient, but she was incapable of duplicity, and +therefore she had said as plainly as possible that whatever the trouble +might be she would not be unjust to Philip. + +The interview with her mother left her in a very distressed state of +mind. It is a horrible disillusion when a girl begins to suspect that +her mother is not sincere, and that her ideals of life are mean. This +knowledge may exist with the deepest affection--indeed, in a noble mind, +with an inward tenderness and an almost divine pity. How many times have +we seen a daughter loyal to a frivolous, worldly-minded, insincere +mother, shielding her and exhibiting to the censorious world the utmost +love and trust! + +Evelyn was far from suspecting the extent of her mother's duplicity, but +her heart told her that an attempt had been made to mislead her, and that +there must be some explanation of Philip's conduct that would be +consistent with her knowledge of his character. And, as she endeavored +to pierce this mystery, it dawned upon her that there had been a method +in throwing her so much into the society of Lord Montague, and that it +was unnatural that such a friend as Philip should be seen so seldom--only +twice since the days in Rivervale. Naturally the very reverse of +suspicious, she had been dreaming on things to come in the seclusion of +her awakening womanhood, without the least notion that the freedom of her +own soul was to be interfered with by any merely worldly demands. But +now things that had occurred, and that her mother had said, came back to +her with a new meaning, and her trustful spirit was overwhelmed. And +there, in the silence of her chamber, began the fierce struggle between +desire and what she called her duty--a duty imposed from without. + +She began to perceive that she was not free, that she was a part of a +social machine, the power of which she had not at all apprehended, and +that she was powerless in its clutch. She might resist, but peace was +gone. She had heretofore found peace in obedience, but when she +consulted her own heart she knew that she could not find peace in +obedience now. To a girl differently reared, perhaps, subterfuge, or +some manoeuvring justified by the situation, might have been resorted to. +But such a thing never occurred to Evelyn. Everything looked +dark before her, as she more clearly understood her mother's attitude, +and for the first time in years she could do nothing but give way to +emotions. + +"Why, Evelyn, you have been crying!" exclaimed the governess, who came to +seek her. "What is the matter?" + +Evelyn arose and threw herself on her friend's neck for a moment, and +then, brushing away the tears, said, with an attempt to smile, "Oh, +nothing; I got thinking, thinking, thinking, and Don't you ever get blue, +McDonald?" + +"Not often," said the Scotchwoman, gravely. "But, dear, you have nothing +in the world to make you so." + +"No, no, nothing;" and then she broke down again, and threw herself upon +McDonald's bosom in a passion of sobbing. "I can't help it. Mamma says +Phil--Mr. Burnett--is never to come to this house again. What have I +done? And he will think--he will think that I hate him." + +McDonald drew the girl into her lap, and with uncommon gentleness +comforted her with caresses. + +"Dear child," she said, "crosses must come into our lives; we cannot +help that. Your mother is no doubt doing what she thinks best for your +own happiness. Nothing can really hurt us for long, you know that well, +except what we do to ourselves. I never told you why I came to this +country--I didn't want to sadden you with my troubles--but now I want you +to understand me better. It is a long story." + +But it was not very long in the telling, for the narrator found that what +seemed to her so long in the suffering could be conveyed to another in +only a few words. And the story was not in any of its features new, +except to the auditor. There had been a long attachment, passionate love +and perfect trust, long engagement, marriage postponed because both were +poor, and the lover struggling into his profession, and then, it seemed +sudden and unaccountable, his marriage with some one else. "It was not +like him," said the governess in conclusion; "it was his ambition to get +on that blinded him." + +"And he, was he happy?" asked Evelyn. + +"I heard that he was not" (and she spoke reluctantly); "I fear not. How +could he be?" And the governess seemed overwhelmed in a flood of tender +and painful memories. "That was over twenty years ago. And I have been +happy, my darling, I have had such a happy life with you. + +I never dreamed I could have such a blessing. And you, child, will be +happy too; I know it." + +And the two women, locked in each other's arms, found that consolation in +sympathy which steals away half the grief of the world. Ah! who knows a +woman's heart? + + +For Philip there was in these days no such consolation. It was a man's +way not to seek any, to roll himself up in his trouble like a hibernating +bear. And yet there were times when he had an intolerable longing for a +confidant, for some one to whom he could relieve himself of part of his +burden by talking. To Celia he could say nothing. Instinct told him +that he should not go to her. Of the sympathy of Alice he was sure, but +why inflict his selfish grief on her tender heart? But he was writing to +her often, he was talking to her freely about his perplexities, about +leaving the office and trusting himself to the pursuit of literature in +some way. And, in answer to direct questions, he told her that he had +seen Evelyn only a few times, and, the fact was, that Mrs. Mavick had cut +him dead. He could not give to his correspondent a very humorous turn to +this situation, for Alice knew--had she not seen them often together, and +did she not know the depths of Philip's passion? And she read between +the lines the real state of the case. Alice was indignant, but she did +not think it wise to make too much of the incident. Of Evelyn she wrote +affectionately--she knew she was a noble and high-minded girl. As to her +mother, she dismissed her with a country estimate. "You know, Phil, +that I never thought she was a lady." + +But the lover was not to be wholly without comfort. He met by chance one +day on the Avenue Miss McDonald, and her greeting was so cordial that he +knew that he had at least one friend in the house of Mavick. + +It was a warm spring day, a stray day sent in advance, as it were, to +warn the nomads of the city that it was time to move on. The tramps in +Washington Square felt the genial impulse, and, seeking the shaded +benches, began to dream of the open country, the hospitable farmhouses, +the nooning by wayside springs, and the charm of wandering at will among +a tolerant and not too watchful people. Having the same abundant +leisure, the dwellers up-town--also nomads--were casting in their minds +how best to employ it, and the fortunate ones were already gathering +together their flocks and herds and preparing to move on to their camps +at Newport or among the feeding-hills of the New-England coast. + +The foliage of Central Park, already heavy, still preserved the freshness +of its new birth, and invited the stroller on the Avenue to its +protecting shade. At Miss McDonald's suggestion they turned in and found +a secluded seat. + +"I often come here," she said to Philip; "it is almost as peaceful as the +wilderness itself." + +To Philip also it seemed peaceful, but the soothing influence he found in +it was that he was sitting with the woman who saw Evelyn hourly, who had +been with her only an hour ago. + +"Yes," she said, in reply to a question, "everybody is well. We are +going to leave town earlier than usual this summer, as soon as Mr. Mavick +returns. Mrs. Mavick is going to open her Newport house; she says she +has had enough of the country. It is still very amusing to me to see how +you Americans move about with the seasons, just like the barbarians of +Turkestan, half the year in summer camps and half the year in winter +camps." + +"Perhaps," said Philip, "it is because the social pasturage gets poor." + +"Maybe," replied the governess, continuing the conceit, "only the horde +keeps pretty well together, wherever it is. I know we are to have a very +gay season. Lots of distinguished foreigners and all that." + +"But," said Philip, "don't England and the Continent long for the +presence of Americans in the season in the same way?" + +"Not exactly. It is the shop-keepers and hotels that sigh for the +Americans. I don't think that American shop-keepers expect much of +foreigners." + +"And you are going soon? I suppose Miss Mavick is eager to go also," +said Philip, trying to speak indifferently. + +Miss McDonald turned towards him with a look of perfect understanding, +and then replied, "No, not eager; she hasn't been in her usual spirits +lately--no, not ill--and probably the change will be good for her. +It is her first season, you know, and that is always exciting to a girl. +Perhaps it is only the spring weather." + +It was some moments before either of them spoke again, and then Miss +McDonald looked up-- "Oh, Mr. Burnett, I have wanted to see you and have +a talk with you about your novel. I could say so little in my note. We +read it first together and then I read it alone, rather to sit in +judgment on it, you know. I liked it better the second time, but I could +see the faults of construction, and I could see, too, why it will be more +popular with a few people than with the general public. You don't mind +my saying--" + +"Go on, the words of a friend." + +"Yes, I know, are sometimes hardest to bear. Well, it is lovely, ideal, +but it seems to me you are still a little too afraid of human nature. +You are afraid to say things that are common. And the deep things of +life are pretty much all common. No, don't interrupt me. I love the +story just as it is. I am glad you wrote it as you did. It was natural, +in your state of experience, that you should do it. But in your next, +having got rid of what was on top of your mind, so to speak, you will +take a firmer, more confident hold of life. You are not offended?" + +"No, indeed," cried Philip. "I am very grateful. No doubt you are +right. It seems to me, now that I am detached from it, as if it were +only a sort of prelude to something else." + +"Well, you must not let my single opinion influence you too much, for I +must in honesty tell you another thing. Evelyn will not have a word of +criticism of it. She says it is like a piece of music, and the impudent +thing declares that she does not expect a Scotchwoman to understand +anything but ballad music." + +Philip laughed at this, such a laugh as he had not indulged in for many +days. "I hope you don't quarrel about such a little thing." + +"Not seriously. She says I may pick away at the story--and I like to see +her bristle up--but that she looks at the spirit." + +"God bless her," said Philip under his breath. + +Miss McDonald rose, and they walked out into the Avenue again. How +delightful was the genial air, the light, the blue sky of spring! +How the brilliant Avenue, now filling up with afternoon equipages, +sparkled in the sunshine! + +When they parted, Miss McDonald gave him her hand and held his a moment, +looking into his eyes. "Mr. Burnett, authors need some encouragement. +When I left Evelyn she was going to her room with your book in her hand." + + + + +XIX + +Why should not Philip trust the future? He was a free man. He had given +no hostages to fortune. Even if he did not succeed, no one else would be +involved in his failure. Why not follow his inclination, the dream of +his boyhood? + +He was at liberty to choose for himself. Everybody in America is; this +is the proclamation of its blessed independence. Are we any better off +for the privilege of following first one inclination and then another, +which is called making a choice? Are they not as well off, and on the +whole as likely to find their right place, who inherit their callings in +life, whose careers are mapped out from the cradle by circumstance and +convention? How much time do we waste in futile experiment? Freedom to +try everything, which is before the young man, is commonly freedom to +excel in nothing. + +There are, of course, exceptions. The blacksmith climbs into a city +pulpit. The popular preacher becomes an excellent insurance agent. The +saloon-keeper develops into the legislator, and wears the broadcloth and +high hat of the politician. The brakeman becomes the railway magnate, +and the college graduate a grocer's clerk, and the messenger-boy, picking +up by chance one day the pen, and finding it run easier than his legs, +becomes a power on a city journal, and advises society how to conduct +itself and the government how to make war and peace. All this adds to +the excitement and interest of life. On the whole, we say that people +get shaken into their right places, and the predetermined vocation is +often a mistake. There is the anecdote of a well-known clergyman who, +being in a company with his father, an aged and distinguished doctor of +divinity, raised his monitory finger and exclaimed, "Ah, you spoiled a +first-rate carpenter when you made a poor minister of me." + +Philip thought he was calmly arguing the matter with himself. How often +do we deliberately weigh such a choice as we would that of another +person, testing our inclination by solid reason? Perhaps no one could +have told Philip what he ought to do, but every one who knew him, and the +circumstances, knew what he would do. He was, in fact, already doing it +while he was paltering with his ostensible profession. But he never +would have confessed, probably he would then have been ashamed to +confess, how much his decision to break with the pretense of law was +influenced by the thought of what a certain dark little maiden, whose +image was always in his mind, would wish him to do, and by the very +remarkable fact that she was seen going to her room with his well-read +story in her hand. Perhaps it was under her pillow at night! + +Good-luck seemed to follow his decision--as it often does when a man +makes a questionable choice, as if the devil had taken an interest in his +downward road to prosperity. But Philip really gained a permanent +advantage. The novel had given him a limited reputation and very little +money. Yet it was his stepping-stone, and when he applied to his +publishers and told them of his decision, they gave him some work as a +reader for the house. At first this was fitful and intermittent, but as +he showed both literary discrimination and tact in judging of the market, +his services were more in request, and slowly he acquired confidential +relations with the house. Whatever he knew, his knowledge of languages +and his experience abroad, came into play, and he began to have more +confidence in himself, as he saw that his somewhat desultory education +had, after all, a market value. + +The rather long period of his struggle, which is a common struggle, and +often disheartening, need not be dwelt on here. We can anticipate by +saying that he obtained in the house a permanent and responsible +situation, with an income sufficient for a bachelor without habits of +self-indulgence. It was not the crowning of a noble ambition, it was not +in the least the career he had dreamed of, but it gave him support and a +recognized position, and, above all, did not divert him from such +creative work as he was competent to do. Nay, he found very soon that +the feeling of security, without any sordid worry, gave freedom to his +imagination. There was something stimulating in the atmosphere of books +and manuscripts and in that world of letters which seems so large to +those who live in it. Fortunately, also, having a support, he was not +tempted to debase his talent by sensational ventures. What he wrote for +this or that magazine he wrote to please himself, and, although he saw no +fortune that way, the little he received was an encouragement as well as +an appreciable addition to his income. + +There are two sorts of success in letters as in life generally. +The one is achieved suddenly, by a dash, and it lasts as long as the +author can keep the attention of the spectators upon his scintillating +novelties. When the sparks fade there is darkness. How many such +glittering spectacles this century has witnessed! + +There is another sort of success which does not startlingly or at once +declare itself. Sometimes it comes with little observation. The +reputation is slowly built up, as by a patient process of nature. +It is curious, as Philip wrote once in an essay, to see this unfolding in +Lowell's life. There was no one moment when he launched into great +popularity--nay, in detail, he seemed to himself not to have made the +strike that ambition is always expecting. But lo! the time came when, by +universal public consent, which was in the nature of a surprise to him, +he had a high and permanent place in the world of letters. + +In anticipating Philip's career, however, it must not be understood that +he had attained any wide public recognition. He was simply enrolled in +the great army of readers and was serving his apprenticeship. He was +recognized as a capable man by those who purvey in letters to the +entertainment of the world. Even this little foothold was not easily +gained in a day, as the historian discovered in reading some bundles of +old letters which Philip wrote in this time of his novitiate to Celia and +to his cousin Alice. + +It was against Celia's most strenuous advice that he had trusted himself +to a literary career. "I see, my dear friend," she wrote, +in reply to his announcement that he was going that day to Mr. Hunt to +resign his position, "that you are not happy, but whatever your +disappointment or disillusion, you will not better yourself by +surrendering a regular occupation. You live too much in the imagination +already." + +Philip fancied, with that fatuity common to his sex, that he had worn an +impenetrable mask in regard to his wild passion for Evelyn, and did not +dream that, all along, Celia had read him like an open book. She judged +Philip quite accurately. It was herself that she did not know, and she +would have repelled as nonsense the suggestion that her own restlessness +and her own changing experiments in occupation were due to the +unsatisfied longings of a woman's heart. + +"You must not think," the letter went on, "that I want to dictate, but I +have noticed that men--it may be different with women--only succeed by +taking one path and diligently walking in it. And literature is not a +career, it is just a toss up, a lottery, and woe to you if you once draw +a lucky number--you will always be expecting another . . . You say +that I am a pretty one to give advice, for I am always chopping and +changing myself. Well, from the time you were a little boy, did I ever +give you but one sort of advice? I have been constant in that. And as +to myself, you are unjust. I have always had one distinct object in +life, and that I have pursued. I wanted to find out about life, to have +experience, and then do what I could do best, and what needed most to be +done. Why did I not stick to teaching in that woman's college? Well, I +began to have doubts, I began to experiment on my pupils. You will +laugh, but I will give you a specimen. One day I put a question to my +literature class, and I found out that not one of them knew how to boil +potatoes. They were all getting an education, and hardly one of them +knew how much the happiness of a home depends upon having the potatoes +mealy and not soggy. It was so in everything. How are we going to live +when we are all educated, without knowing how to live? Then I found that +the masses here in New York did not know any better than the classes how +to live. Don't think it is just a matter of cooking. It is knowing how, +generally, to make the most of yourself and of your opportunities, and +have a nice world to live in, a thrifty, self-helpful, disciplined world. +Is education giving us this? And then we think that organization will do +it, organization instead of self-development. We think we can organize +life, as they are trying to organize art. They have organized art as +they have the production of cotton. + +"Did I tell you I was in that? No? I used to draw in school, and after +I had worked in the Settlement here in New York, and while I was working +down on the East Side, it came over me that maybe I had one talent +wrapped in a napkin; and I have been taking lessons in Fifty-seventh +Street with the thousand or two young women who do not know how to boil +potatoes, but are pursuing the higher life of art. I did not tell you +this because I knew you would say that I am just as inconsistent as you +are. But I am not. I have demonstrated the fact that neither I nor one +in a hundred of those charming devotees to art could ever earn a living +by art, or do anything except to add to the mediocrity of the amazing art +product of this free country. + +"And you will ask, what now? I am going on in the same way. I am going +to be a doctor. In college I was very well up in physiology and anatomy, +and I went quite a way in biology. So you see I have a good start. I am +going to attend lectures and go into a hospital, as soon as there is an +opening, and then I mean to practice. One essential for a young doctor I +have in advance. That is patients. I can get all I want on the East +Side, and I have already studied many of them. Law and medicine are what +I call real professions." + +However Celia might undervalue the calling that Philip had now entered +on, he had about this time evidence of the growing appreciation of +literature by practical business men. He was surprised one day by a +brief note from Murad Ault, asking him to call at his office as soon as +convenient. + +Mr. Ault received him in his private office at exactly the hour named. +Evidently Mr. Ault's affairs were prospering. His establishment +presented every appearance of a high-pressure business perfectly +organized. The outer rooms were full of industrious clerks, messengers +were constantly entering and departing in a feverish rapidity, servants +moved silently about, conducting visitors to this or that waiting-room +and answering questions, excited speculators in groups were gesticulating +and vociferating, and in the anteroom were impatient clients awaiting +their turn. In the inner chamber, however, was perfect calm. There at +his table sat the dark, impenetrable operator, whose time was exactly +apportioned, serene, saturnine, or genial, as the case might be, +listening attentively, speaking deliberately, despatching the affair in +hand without haste or the waste of a moment. + +Mr. Ault arose and shook hands cordially, and then went on, without delay +for any conventional talk. + +"I sent for you, Mr. Burnett, because I wanted your help, and because I +thought I might do you a good turn. You see" (with a grim smile) +"I have not forgotten Rivervale days. My wife has been reading your +story. I don't have much time for such things myself, but her constant +talk about it has given me an idea. I want to suggest to you the scene +of a novel, one that would be bound to be a good seller. + +I could guarantee a big circulation. I have just become interested in +one of the great transcontinental lines." He named the most picturesque +of them--one that he, in fact, absolutely controlled. "Well, I want a +story, yes, I guess a good love-story--a romance of reality you might +call it--strung on that line. You take the idea?" + +"Why," said Philip, half amused at the conceit and yet complimented by +the recognition of his talent, "I don't know anything about railroads +--how they are run, cost of building, prospect of traffic, engineering +difficulties, all that--nothing whatever." + +"So much the better. It is a literary work I want, not a brag about the +road or a description of its enterprise. You just take the line as your +scene. Let the story run on that. The company, don't you see, must not +in any way be suspected with having anything to do with it, no mention of +its name as a company, no advertisement of the road on a fly-leaf or +cover. Just your own story, pure and simple." + +"But," said Philip, more and more astonished at this unlooked-for +expansion of the literary field, "I could not embark on an enterprise of +such magnitude." + +"Oh," said Mr. Ault, complacently, "that will be all arranged. Just a +pleasure trip, as far as that goes. You will have a private car, well +stocked, a photographer will go along, and I think--don't you? a water- +color artist. You can take your own time, stop when and where you +choose--at the more stations the better. It ought to be profusely +illustrated with scenes on the line--yes, have colored plates, all that +would give life and character to your story. Love on a Special, some +such title as that. It would run like oil. I will arrange to have it as +a serial in one of the big magazines, and then the book would be bound to +go. The company, of course, can have nothing to do with it, but I can +tell you privately that it would rather distribute a hundred thousand +copies of a book of good literature through the country than to encourage +the railway truck that is going now. + +I shouldn't wonder, Mr. Burnett, if the public would be interested in +having the Puritan Nun take that kind of a trip." And Mr. Ault ended his +explanation with an interrogatory smile. + +Philip hesitated a moment, trying to grasp the conception of this +business use of literature. Mr. Ault resumed: + +"It isn't anything in the nature of an advertisement. Literature is a +power. Why, do you know--of course you did not intend it--your story has +encouraged the Peacock Inn to double its accommodations, and half the +farmhouses in Rivervale are expecting summer boarders. The landlord of +the Peacock came to see me the other day, and he says everything is +stirred up there, and he has already to enlarge or refuse application." + +"It is very kind in you, Mr. Ault, to think of me in that connection, but +I fear you have over-estimated my capacity. I could name half a dozen +men who could do it much better than I could. They know how to do it, +they have that kind of touch. I have been surprised at the literary +ability engaged by the great corporations." + +Mr. Ault made a gesture of impatience. "I wouldn't give a damn for that +sort of thing. It is money thrown away. If I should get one of the +popular writers you refer to, the public would know he was hired. If you +lay your story out there, nobody will suspect anything of the sort. It +will be a clean literary novel. Not travel, you understand, but a story, +and the more love in it the better. It will be a novelty. You can run +your car sixty miles an hour in exciting passages, everything will work +into it. When people travel on the road the pictures will show them the +scenes of the story. It is a big thing," said Mr. Ault in conclusion. + +"I see it is," said Philip, rising at the hint that his time had expired. +"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Ault, for your confidence in me. But +it is a new idea. I will have to think it over." + +"Well, think it over. There is money in it. You would not start till +about midsummer. Good-day." + +A private car! Travel like a prince! Certainly literature was looking +up in the commercial world. Philip walked back to his publishers with a +certain elasticity of step, a new sense of power. Yes, the power of the +pen. And why not? No doubt it would bring him money and spread his name +very widely. There was nothing that a friendly corporation could not do +for a favorite. He would then really be a part of the great, active, +enterprising world. Was there anything illegitimate in taking advantage +of such an opportunity? Surely, he should remain his own master, and +write nothing except what his own conscience approved. But would he not +feel, even if no one else knew it, that he was the poet-laureate of a +corporation? + +And suddenly, as he thought how the clear vision of Evelyn would plunge +to the bottom of such a temptation, he felt humiliated that such a +proposition should have been made to him. Was there nothing, nobody, +that commercialism did not think for sale and to be trafficked in? + +Nevertheless, he wrote to Alice about it, describing the proposal as it +was made to him, without making any comment on it. + +Alice replied speedily. "Isn't it funny," she wrote, "and isn't it +preposterous? I wonder what such people think? And that horrid young +pirate, Ault, a patron of literature! My dear, I cannot conceive of you +as the Pirate's Own. Dear Phil, I want you to succeed. I do want you to +make money, a lot of it. I like to think you are wanted and appreciated, +and that you can get paid better and better for what you do. Sell your +manuscripts for as good a price as you can get. Yes, dear, sell your +manuscripts, but don't sell your soul." + + + + +XX + +Did Miss McDonald tell Evelyn of her meeting with Philip in Central Park? +The Scotch loyalty to her service would throw a doubt upon this. At the +same time, the Scotch affection, the Scotch sympathy with a true and +romantic passion, and, above all, the Scotch shrewdness, could be trusted +to do what was best under the circumstances. That she gave the least +hint of what she said to Mr. Burnett concerning Evelyn is not to be +supposed for a moment. Certainly she did not tell Mrs. Mavick. Was she +a person to run about with idle gossip? But it is certain that Evelyn +knew that Philip had given up his situation in the office, that he had +become a reader for a publishing house, that he had definitely decided to +take up a literary career. And somehow it came into her mind that Philip +knew that this decision would be pleasing to her. + +According to the analogy of other things in nature, it would seem that +love must have something to feed on to sustain it. But it is remarkable +upon how little it can exist, can even thrive and become strong, and +develop a power of resistance to hostile influences. Once it gets a +lodgment in a woman's heart, it is an exclusive force that transforms her +into a heroine of courage and endurance. No arguments, no reason, no +considerations of family, of position, of worldly fortune, no prospect of +immortal life, nothing but doubt of faith in the object can dislodge it. +The woman may yield to overwhelming circumstances, she may even by her +own consent be false to herself, but the love lives, however hidden and +smothered, so long as the vital force is capable of responding to a true +emotion. Perhaps nothing in human life is so pathetic as this survival +in old age of a youthful, unsatisfied love. It may cease to be a +passion, it may cease to be a misery, it may have become only a placid +sentiment, yet the heart must be quite cold before this sentiment can +cease to stir it on occasion--for the faded flower is still in the memory +the bloom of young love. + +They say that in the New Education for women love is not taken into +account in the regular course; it is an elective study. But the immortal +principle of life does not care much for organization, and says, as of +old, they reckon ill who leave me out. + +In the early season at Newport there was little to distract the attention +and much to calm the spirit. Mrs. Mavick was busy in her preparation for +the coming campaign, and Evelyn and her governess were left much alone, +to drive along the softly lapping sea, to search among the dells of the +rocky promontory for wild flowers, or to sit on the cliffs in front of +the gardens of bloom and watch the idle play of the waves, that chased +each other to the foaming beach and in good-nature tossed about the cat- +boats and schooners and set the white sails shimmering and dipping in the +changing lights. And Evelyn, drinking in the beauty and the peace of it, +no doubt, was more pensive than joyous. Within the last few months life +had opened to her with a suddenness that half frightened her. + +It was a woman who sat on the cliffs now, watching the ocean of life, no +longer a girl into whose fresh soul the sea and the waves and the air, +and the whole beauty of the world, were simply responsive to her own +gayety and enjoyment of living. It was not the charming scene that held +her thought, but the city with its human struggle, and in that struggle +one figure was conspicuous. In such moments this one figure of youth +outweighed for her all that the world held besides. It was strange. +Would she have admitted this? Not in the least, not even to herself, in +her virgin musings; nevertheless, the world was changed for her, it was +more serious, more doubtful, richer, and more to be feared. + +It was not too much to say that one season had much transformed her. She +had been so ignorant of the world a year ago. She had taken for granted +all that was abstractly right. Now she saw that the conventions of life +were like sand-dunes and barriers in the path she was expected to walk. +She had learned for one thing what money was. Wealth had been such an +accepted part of her life, since she could remember, that she had +attached no importance to it, and had only just come to see what +distinctions it made, and how it built a barrier round about her. She +had come to know what it was that gave her father position and +distinction; and the knowledge had been forced upon her by all the +obsequious flattery of society that she was, as a great heiress, +something apart from others. This position, so much envied, may be to a +sensitive soul an awful isolation. + +It was only recently that Evelyn had begun to be keenly aware of the +circumstances that hedged her in. They were speaking one day as they sat +upon the cliffs of the season about to begin. In it Evelyn had always +had unalloyed, childish delight. Now it seemed to her something to be +borne. + +"McDonald," the girl said, abruptly, but evidently continuing her line of +thought, "mamma says that Lord Montague is coming next week." + +"To be with us?" + +"Oh, no. He is to stay with the Danforth-Sibbs. Mamma says that as he +is a stranger here we must be very polite to him, and that his being here +will give distinction to the season. Do you like him?" There was in +Evelyn still, with the penetration of the woman, the naivete of the +child. + +"I cannot say that he is personally very fascinating, but then I have +never talked with him." + +"Mamma says he is very interesting about his family, and their place in +England, and about his travels. He has been in the South Sea Islands. I +asked him about them. He said that the natives were awfully jolly, and +that the climate was jolly hot. Do you know, McDonald, that you can't +get anything out of him but exclamations and slang. I suppose he talks +to other people differently. I tried him. At the reception I asked him +who was going to take Tennyson's place. He looked blank, and then said, +'Er--I must have missed that. What place? Is he out?'" + +Miss McDonald laughed, and then said, "You don't understand the classes +in English life. Poetry is not in his line. You see, dear, you couldn't +talk to him about politics. He is a born legislator, and when he is in +the House of Lords he will know right well who is in and who is out. You +mustn't be unjust because he seems odd to you and of limited +intelligence. Just that sort of youth is liable to turn up some day in +India or somewhere and do a mighty plucky thing, and become a hero. I +dare say he is a great sportsman." + +"Yes, he quite warmed up about shooting. He told me about going for yak +in the snow mountains south of Thibet. Bloody cold it was. Nasty beast, +if you didn't bring him down first shot. No, I don't doubt his courage +nor his impudence. He looks at me so, that I can't help blushing. I +wish mamma wouldn't ask him." + +"But, my dear, we must live in the world as it is. You are not +responsible for Lord Montague." + +"And I know he will come," the girl persisted in her line of thought. + +"When he called the day before we came away, he asked a lot of questions +about Newport, about horses and polo and golf, and all that, and were the +roads good. And then, 'Do you bike, Miss Mavick?' + +I pretended not to understand, and said I was still studying with my +governess and I hadn't got all the irregular verbs yet. For once, he +looked quite blank, and after a minute he said, 'That's very good, you +know!' McDonald, I just hate him. He makes me so uneasy." + +"But don't you know, child," said Miss McDonald, laughing, "that we are +required to love our enemies?" + +"So I would," replied the girl, quickly, "if he were an enemy and would +keep away. Ah, me! McDonald, I want to ask you something. Do you +suppose he would hang around a girl who was poor, such a sweet, pretty, +dear creature as Alice Maitland, who is a hundred times nicer than I am?" + +"He might," said Miss McDonald, still quizzically. "They say that like +goes to like, and it is reported that the Duke of Tewkesbury is as good +as ruined." + +"Do be serious, McDonald." The girl nestled up closer to her and took +her hand. "I want to ask you one question more. Do you think--no, don't +look at me, look away off at that sail do you-think that, if I had been +poor, Mr. Burnett would have seen me only twice, just twice, all last +season?" + +Miss McDonald put her arm around Evelyn and clasped the little figure +tight. "You must not give way to fancies. We cannot, as life is +arranged, be perfectly happy, but we can be true to ourselves, and there +is scarcely anything that resolution and patience cannot overcome. I +ought not to talk to you about this, Evelyn. But I must say one thing: I +think I can read Philip Burnett. Oh, he has plenty of self-esteem, but, +unless I mistake him, nothing could so mortify him as to have it said +that he was pursuing a girl for the sake of her fortune." + +"And he wouldn't!" cried the girl, looking up and speaking in an unsteady +voice. + +"Let me finish. He is, so I think, the sort of man that would not let +any fortune, or anything else, stand in the way when his heart was +concerned. I somehow feel that he could not change--faithfulness, that +is his notion. If he only knew--" + +"He never shall! he never shall!" cried the girl in alarm--"never!" + +"And you think, child, that he doesn't know? Come! That sail has been +coming straight towards us ever since we sat here, never tacked once. +That is omen enough for one day. See how the light strikes it. Come!" + +The Newport season was not, after all, very gay. Society has become so +complex that it takes more than one Englishman to make a season. Were it +the business of the chronicler to study the evolution of this lovely +watering-place from its simple, unconventional, animated days of natural +hospitality and enjoyment, to its present splendid and palatial isolation +of a society--during the season--which finds its chief satisfaction in +the rivalry of costly luxury and in an atmosphere of what is deemed +aristocratic exclusiveness, he would have a theme attractive to the +sociologist. But such a noble study is not for him. His is the humble +task of following the fortunes of certain individuals, more or less +conspicuous in this astonishing flowering of a democratic society, who +have become dear to him by long acquaintance. + +It was not the fault of Mrs. Mavick that the season was so frigid, its +glacial stateliness only now and then breaking out in an illuminating +burst of festivity, like the lighting-up of a Montreal ice-palace. Her +spacious house was always open, and her efforts, in charity enterprises +and novel entertainments, were untiring to stimulate a circulation in the +languid body of society. + +This clever woman never showed more courage or more tact than in this +campaign, and was never more agreeable and fascinating. She was even +popular. If she was not accepted as a leader, she had a certain standing +with the leaders, as a person of vivacity and social influence. Any +company was eager for her presence. Her activity, spirit, and affability +quite won the regard of the society reporters, and those who know Newport +only through the newspapers would have concluded that the Mavicks were on +the top of the wave. She, however, perfectly understood her position, +and knew that the sweet friends, who exchanged with her, whenever they +met, the conventional phrases of affection commented sarcastically upon +her ambitions for her daughter. It was, at the same time, an ambition +that they perfectly understood, and did not condemn on any ethical +grounds. Evelyn was certainly a sweet girl, rather queerly educated, and +never likely to make much of a dash, but she was an heiress, and why +should not her money be put to the patriotic use of increasing the +growing Anglo-American cordiality? + +Lord Montague was, of course, a favorite, in demand for all functions, +and in request for the private and intimate entertainments. He was an +authority in the stables and the kennels, and an eager comrade in all the +sports of the island. His easy manner, his self-possession everywhere, +even his slangy talk, were accepted as evidence that he was above +conventionalities. "The little man isn't a beauty," said Sally McTabb, +"but he shows 'race.'" He might be eccentric, but when you came to know +him you couldn't help liking the embryo duke in him. + +In fact, things were going very well with Mrs. Mavick, except in her own +household. There was something there that did not yield, that did not +flow with her plans. With Lord Montague she was on the most intimate and +confidential relations. He was almost daily at the house. Often she +drove with him; frequently Evelyn was with them. Indeed, the three came +to be associated in the public mind. There could be no doubt of the +intentions of the young nobleman. That he could meet any opposition was +not conceived. + +The noble lord, since they had been in Newport, had freely opened his +mind to Mrs. Mavick, and on a fit occasion had formally requested her +daughter's hand. Needless to say that he was accepted. Nay, more, +he felt that he was trusted like a son. He was given every opportunity +to press his suit. Somewhat to his surprise, he did not appear to make +much headway. He was rarely able to see her alone, even for a moment. +Such evasiveness in a young girl to a man of his rank astonished him. +There could be no reason for it in himself; there must be some influence +at work unknown to his social experience. + +He did not reproach Mrs. Mavick with this, but he let her see that he was +very much annoyed. + +"If I had not your assurance to the contrary, Mrs. Mavick," he said one +day in a pet, "I should think she shunned me." + +"Oh, no, Lord Montague, that could not be. I told you that she had had a +peculiar education; she is perfectly ignorant of the world, she is shy, +and--well, for a girl in her position, she is unconventional. She is so +young that she does not yet understand what life is." + +"You mean she does not know what I offer her?" + +"Why, my dear Lord Montague, did you ever offer her anything?" + +"Not flat, no," said my lord, hesitating. "Every time I approach her she +shies off like a young filly. There is something I don't understand." + +"Evelyn," and Mrs. Mavick spoke with feeling, "is an affectionate and +dutiful child. She has never thought of marriage. The prospect is all +new to her. But I am sure she would learn to love you if she knew you +and her mind were once turned upon such a union. My lord, why not say to +her what you feel, and make the offer you intend? You cannot expect a +young girl to show her inclination before she is asked." And Mrs. Mavick +laughed a little to dispel the seriousness. + +"By Jove! that's so, good enough. I'll do it straight out. I'll tell +her to take it or leave it. No, I don't mean that, of course. I'll tell +her that I can't live without her--that sort of thing, you know. And I +can't, that's just the fact." + +"You can leave it confidently to her good judgment and to the friendship +of the family for you." + +Lord Montague was silent for a moment, and seemed to be looking at a +problem in his shrewd mind. For he had a shrewd mind, which took in the +whole situation, Mrs. Mavick and all, with a perspicacity that would have +astonished that woman of the world. + +"There is one thing, perhaps I ought not to say it, but I have seen it, +and it is in my head that it is that--I beg your pardon, madam--that +damned governess." + +The shot went home. The suggestion, put into language that could be more +easily comprehended than defended, illuminated Mrs. Mavick's mind in a +flash, seeming to disclose the source of an opposition to her purposes +which secretly irritated her. Doubtless it was the governess. It was +her influence that made Evelyn less pliable and amenable to reason than a +young girl with such social prospects as she had would naturally be. +Besides, how absurd it was that a young lady in society should still have +a governess. A companion? The proper companion for a girl on the edge +of matrimony was her mother! + + + + +XXI + +This idea, once implanted in Mrs. Mavick's mind, bore speedy fruit. No +one would have accused her of being one of those uncomfortable persons +who are always guided by an inflexible sense of justice, nor could it be +said that she was unintelligently unjust. Facile as she was, in all her +successful life she had never acted upon impulse, but from a conscience +keenly alive to what was just to herself. Miss McDonald was in the way. +And Mrs. Mavick had one quality of good generalship--she acted promptly +on her convictions. + +When Mr. Mavick came over next day to spend Sunday in what was called in +print the bosom of his family, he looked very much worn and haggard and +was in an irritated mood. He had been very little in Newport that +summer, the disturbed state of business confining him to the city. And +to a man of his age, New York in midsummer in a panicky season is not a +recreation. + +The moment Mrs. Mavick got her husband alone she showed a lively +solicitude about his health. + +"I suppose it has been dreadfully hot in the city?" + +"Hot enough. Everything makes it hot." + +"Has anything gone wrong? Has that odious Ault turned up again?" + +"Turned up is the word. Half the time that man is a mole, half the time +a bull in a china-shop. He sails up to you bearing your own flag, and +when he gets aboard he shows the skull and cross-bones." + +"Is it so bad as that?" + +"As bad as what? He is a bad lot, but he is just an adventurer--a +Napoleon who will get his Waterloo before fall. Don't bother about +things you don't understand. How are things down here?" + +"Going swimmingly." "So I judged by the bills. How is the lord?" + +"Now don't be vulgar, Tom. You must keep up your end. Lord Montague is +very nice; he is a great favorite here." + +"Does Evelyn like him?" + +"Yes, she likes him; she likes him very much." + +"She didn't show it to me." + +"No, she is awfully shy. And she is rather afraid of him, the big title +and all that. And then she has never been accustomed to act for herself. +She is old enough to be independent and to take her place in the world. +At her age I was not in leading-strings." + +"I should say not," said Mavick. + +"Except in obedience to my mother," continued Carmen, not deigning to +notice the sarcasm. "And I've been thinking that McDonald--" + +"So you want to get rid of her?" + +"What a brutal way of putting it! No. But if Evelyn is ever to be self- +reliant it is time she should depend more on herself. You know I am +devoted to McDonald. And, what is more, I am used to her. +I wasn't thinking of her. You don't realize that Evelyn is a young lady +in society, and it has become ridiculous for her to still have a +governess. Everybody would say so." + +"Well, call her a companion." + +"Ah, don't you see it would be the same? She would still be under her +influence and not able to act for herself." + +"What are you going to do? Turn her adrift after eighteen--what is it, +seventeen?--years of faithful service?" + +"How brutally you put it. I'm going to tell McDonald just how it is. +She is a sensible woman, and she will see that it is for Evelyn's good. +And then it happens very luckily. Mrs. Van Cortlandt asked me last +winter if I wouldn't let her have McDonald for her little girl when we +were through with her. She knew, of course, that we couldn't keep a +governess much longer for Evelyn. I am going to write to her. She will +jump at the chance." + +"And McDonald?" + +"Oh, she likes Mrs. Van Cortlandt. It will just suit her." + +"And Evelyn? That will be another wrench." Men are so foolishly tender- +hearted about women. + +"Of course, I know it seems hard, and will be for a little. But it is +for Evelyn's good, I am perfectly sure." + +Mr. Mavick was meditating. It was a mighty unpleasant business. But he +was getting tired of conflict. There was an undercurrent in the lives of +both that made him shrink from going deep into any domestic difference. +It was best to yield. + +"Well, Carmen, I couldn't have the heart to do it. She has been Evelyn's +constant companion all the child's life. Ah, well, it's your own affair. +Only don't stir it up till after I am gone. I must go to the city early +Monday morning." + +Because Mavick, amid all the demands of business and society, and his +ambitions for power in the world of finance and politics, had not had +much time to devote to his daughter, it must not be supposed that he did +not love her. In the odd moments at her service she had always been a +delight to him; and, in truth, many of his ambitions had centred in the +intelligent, affectionate, responsive child. But there had been no time +for much real comradeship. + +This Sunday, however, and it was partly because of pity for the shock he +felt was in store for her, he devoted himself to her. They had a long +walk on the cliff, and he talked to her of his life, of his travels, and +his political experience. She was a most appreciative listener, and in +the warmth of his confidence she opened her mind to him, and rather +surprised him by her range of intelligence and the singular uprightness +of her opinions, and more still by her ready wit and playfulness. It was +the first time she had felt really free with her father, and he for the +first time seemed to know her as she was in her inner life. When they +returned to the house, and she was thanking him with a glow of enthusiasm +for such a lovely day, he lifted her up and kissed her, with an emotion +of affection that brought tears to her eyes. + +A couple of days elapsed before Mrs. Mavick was ready for action. During +this time she had satisfied herself, by apparently casual conversation +with her daughter and Miss McDonald, that the latter would be wholly out +of sympathy with her intentions in regard to Evelyn. Left to herself she +judged that her daughter would look with more favor upon the brilliant +career offered to her by Lord Montague. When, therefore, one morning the +governess was summoned to her room, her course was decided on. She +received Miss McDonald with more than usual cordiality. She had in her +hand a telegram, and beamed upon her as the bearer of good news. + +"I have an excellent offer for you, Miss McDonald." + +"An offer for me?" + +"Yes, from Mrs. Van Cortlandt, to be the governess of her daughter, a +sweet little girl of six. She has often spoken about it, and now I have +an urgent despatch from her. She is in need of some one at once, and she +greatly prefers you." + +"Do you mean, Mrs. Mavick, that--you--want--that I am to leave Evelyn, +and you?" The room seemed to whirl around her. + +"It is not what we want, McDonald," said Mrs. Mavick calmly and still +beaming, "but what is best. Your service as governess has continued much +longer than could have been anticipated, and of course it must come to an +end some time. You understand how hard this separation is for all of us. +Mr. Mavick wanted me to express to you his infinite obligation, and I am +sure he will take a substantial way of showing it. Evelyn is now a young +lady in society, and of course it is absurd for her to continue under +pupilage. It will be best for her, for her character, to be independent +and learn to act for herself in the world." + +"Did she--has Evelyn--" + +"No, I have said nothing to her of this offer, which is a most +advantageous one. Of course she will feel as we do, at first." + +"Why, all these years, all her life, since she was a baby, not a day, not +a night, Evelyn, and now--so sweet, so dear--why Mrs. Mavick!" +And the Scotch woman, dazed, with a piteous appeal in her eyes, trying in +vain to control her face, looked at her mistress. + +"My dear McDonald, you must not take it that way. It is only a change. +You are not going away really, we shall all be in the same city. I am +sure you will--like your new home. Shall I tell Mrs. Van Cortlandt?" + +"Tell Mrs. Van Cortlandt? Yes, tell her, thanks. I will go--soon--at +once. In a little time, to get-ready. Thanks." The governess rose and +stood a moment to steady herself. All her life was in ruins. The blow +crushed her. And she had been so happy. In such great peace. It seemed +impossible. To leave Evelyn! She put out her hand as if to speak. Did +Mrs. Mavick understand what she was doing? That it was the same as +dragging a mother away from her child? But she said nothing. Words +would not come. Everything seemed confused and blank. She sank into her +chair. + +"Excuse me, Mrs. Mavick, I think I am not very strong this morning." And +presently she stood on her feet again and steadied herself. "You will +please tell Evelyn before--before I see her." And she walked out of the +room as one in a trance. + +The news was communicated to Evelyn, quite incidentally, in the manner +that all who knew Mrs. Mavick admired in her. Evelyn had just been in +and out of her mother's room, on one errand and another, and was going +out again, when her mother said: + +"Oh, by-the-way, Evelyn, at last we have got a splendid place for +McDonald." + +Evelyn turned, not exactly comprehending. "A place for McDonald? For +what?" + +"As governess, of course. With Mrs. Van Cortlandt." + +"What! to leave us? "The girl walked back to her mother's chair and +stood before her in an attitude of wonder and doubt. "You don't mean, +mamma, that she is going away for good?" + +"It is a great chance for her. I have been anxious for some time about +employment for her, now that you do not need a governess--haven't really +for a year or two." + +"But, mamma, it can't be. She is part of us. She belongs to the family; +she has been in it almost as long as I have. Why, I have been with her +every day of my life. To go away? To give her up? Does she know?" + +"Does she know? What a child! She has accepted Mrs. Van Cortlandt's +offer. I telegraphed for her this morning. Tomorrow she goes to town to +get her belongings together. Mrs. Van Cortlandt needs her at once. I am +sorry to see, my dear, that you are thinking only of yourself." + +"Of myself?" The girl had been at first confused, and, as the idea forced +itself upon her mind, she felt weak, and trembled, and was deadly pale. +But when the certainty came, the enormity and cruelty of the dismissal +aroused her indignation. "Myself!" she exclaimed again. Her eyes blazed +with a wrath new to their tenderness, and, stepping back and stamping her +foot; she cried out: "She shall not go! It is unjust! It is cruel!" + +Her mother had never seen her child like that. She was revealing a +spirit of resistance, a temper, an independence quite unexpected. +And yet it was not altogether displeasing. Mrs. Mavick's respect for her +involuntarily rose. And after an instant, instead of responding with +severity, as was her first impulse, she said, very calmly: + +"Naturally, Evelyn, you do not like to part with her. None of us do. +But go to your room and think it over reasonably. The relations of +childhood cannot last forever." + +Evelyn stood for a moment undecided. Her mother's calm self-control had +not deceived her. She was no longer a child. It was a woman reading a +woman. All her lifetime came back to her to interpret this moment. In +the reaction of the second, the deepest pain was no longer for herself, +nor even for Miss McDonald, but for a woman who showed herself so +insensible to noble feeling. Protest was useless. But why was the +separation desired? She did not fully see, but her instinct told her +that it had a relation to her mother's plans for her; and as life rose +before her in the society, in the world, into which she was newly +launched, she felt that she was alone, absolutely alone. She tried to +speak, but before she could collect her thoughts her mother said: + +"There, go now. It is useless to discuss the matter. We all have to +learn to bear things." + +Evelyn went away, in a tumult of passion and of shame, and obeyed her +impulse to go where she had always found comfort. + +Miss McDonald was in her own room. Her trunk was opened. She had taken +her clothes from the closet. She was opening the drawers and laying one +article here and another there. She was going from closet to bureau, +opening this door and shutting that in her sitting-room and bedroom, in +an aimless, distracted way. Out of her efforts nothing had so far come +but confusion. It seemed an impossible dream that she was actually +packing up to go away forever. + +Evelyn entered in a haste that could not wait for permission. + +"Is it true?" she cried. + +McDonald turned. She could not speak. Her faithful face was gray with +suffering. Her eyes were swollen with weeping. For an instant she +seemed not to comprehend, and then a flood of motherly feeling overcame +her. She stretched out her arms and caught the girl to her breast in a +passionate embrace, burying her face in her neck in a vain effort to +subdue her sobbing. + +What was there to say? Evelyn had come to her refuge for comfort, and to +Evelyn the comforter it was she herself who must be the comforter. +Presently she disengaged herself and forced the governess into an easy +chair. She sat down on the arm of the chair and smoothed her hair and +kissed her again and again. + +"There. I'm going to help you. You'll see you have not taught me for +nothing." She jumped up and began to bustle about. "You don't know what +a packer I am." + +"I knew it must come some time," she was saying, with a weary air, as she +followed with her eyes the light step of the graceful girl, who was +beginning to sort things and to bring order out of the confusion, holding +up one article after another and asking questions with an enforced +cheerfulness that was more pathetic than any burst of grief. + +"Yes, I know. There, that is laid in smooth." She pretended to be +thinking what to put in next, and suddenly she threw herself into +McDonald's lap and began to talk gayly. "It is all my fault, dear; I +should have stayed little. And it doesn't make any difference. +I know you love me, and oh, McDonald, I love you more, a hundred times +more, than ever. If you did not love me! Think how dreadful that would +be. And we shall not be separated-only by streets, don't you know. They +can't separate us. I know you want me to be brave. And some day, +perhaps" (and she whispered in her ear--how many hundred times had she +told her girl secrets in that way!), "if I do have a home of my own, +then--" + +It was not very cheerful talk, however it seemed to be, but it was better +than silence, and in the midst of it, with many interruptions, the +packing was over, and some sort of serenity was attained even by Miss +McDonald. "Yes, dear heart, we have love and trust and hope." +But when the preparations were all made, and Evelyn went to her own room, +there did not seem to be so much hope, nor any brightness in the midst of +this first great catastrophe of her life. + + + + +XXII + +The great Mavick ball at Newport, in the summer long remembered for its +financial disasters, was very much talked about at the time. Long after, +in any city club, a man was sure to have attentive listeners if he, began +his story or his gossip with the remark that he was at the Mavick ball. + +It attracted great attention, both on account of the circumstances that +preceded it and the events which speedily followed, and threw a light +upon it that gave it a spectacular importance. The city journals made a +feature of it. They summoned their best artists to illustrate it, and +illuminate it in pen-and-ink, half-tones, startling colors, and +photographic reproductions, sketches theatrical, humorous, and poetic, +caricatures, pictures of tropical luxury and aristocratic pretension; in +short, all the bewildering affluence of modern art which is brought to +bear upon the aesthetic cultivation of the lowest popular taste. They +summoned their best novelists to throw themselves recklessly upon the +English language, and extort from it its highest expression in color and +lyrical beauty, the novelists whose mission it is, in the newspaper +campaign against realism, to adorn and dramatize the commonest events of +life, creating in place of the old-fashioned "news" the highly spiced +"story," which is the ideal aspiration of the reporter. + +Whatever may be said about the power of the press, it is undeniable +that it can set the entire public thinking and talking about any topic, +however insignificant in itself, that it may elect to make the +sensation of the day--a wedding, a murder, a political scandal, a +divorce, a social event, a defalcation, a lost child, an unidentified +victim of accident or crime, an election, or--that undefined quickener of +patriotism called a casus belli. It can impose any topic it pleases upon +the public mind. In case there is no topic, it is necessary to make one, +for it is an indefeasible right of the public to have news. + +These reports of the Mavick ball had a peculiar interest for at least two +people in New York. Murad Ault read them with a sardonic smile and an +enjoyment that would not have been called altruistic. Philip +searched them with the feverish eagerness of a maiden who scans the +report of a battle in which her lover has been engaged. + +All summer long he had lived upon stray bits of news in the society +columns of the newspapers. To see Evelyn's name mentioned, and only +rarely, as a guest at some entertainment, and often in connection with +that of Lord Montague, did not convey much information, nor was that +little encouraging. Was she well? Was she absorbed in the life of the +season? Did she think of him in surroundings so brilliant? Was she, +perhaps, unhappy and persecuted? No tidings came that could tell him the +things that he ached to know. + +Only recently intelligence had come to him that at the same time wrung +his heart with pity and buoyed him up with hope. He had not seen Miss +McDonald since her dismissal, for she had been only one night in the +city, but she had written to him. Relieved by her discharge of all +obligations of silence, she had written him frankly about the whole +affair, and, indeed, put him in possession of unrecorded details and +indications that filled him with anxiety, to be sure, but raised his +courage and strengthened his determination. If Evelyn loved him, he had +faith that no manoeuvres or compulsion could shake her loyalty. And yet +she was but a girl; she was now practically alone, and could she resist +the family and the social pressure? Few women could, few women do, +effectively resist under such circumstances. With one of a tender heart, +duty often takes the most specious and deceiving forms. In yielding to +the impulses of her heart, which in her inexperience may be mistaken, has +a girl the right--from a purely rational point of view--to set herself +against, nay, to destroy, the long-cherished ambitions of her parents for +a brilliant social career for her, founded upon social traditions of +success? For what had Mr. Mavick toiled? For what had Mrs. Mavick +schemed all these years? Could the girl throw herself away? Such +disobedience, such disregard for social law, would seem impossible to her +mother. + +Some of the events that preceded the Mavick ball throw light upon that +interesting function. After the departure of Miss McDonald, Mrs. Mavick, +in one of her confidential talks with her proposed son-in-law, confessed +that she experienced much relief. An obstacle seemed to be removed. + +In fact, Evelyn rather surprised her mother by what seemed a calm +acceptance of the situation. There was no further outburst. If the girl +was often preoccupied and seemed listless, that was to be expected, on +the sudden removal of the companion of her lifetime. + +But she did not complain. She ceased after a while to speak of McDonald. +If she showed little enthusiasm in what was going on around her, she was +compliant, she fell in at once with her mother's suggestions, and went +and came in an attitude of entire obedience. + +"It isn't best for you to keep up a correspondence, my dear, now that you +know that McDonald is nicely settled--all reminiscent correspondence is +very wearing--and, really, I am more than delighted to see that you are +quite capable of walking alone. Do you know, Evelyn, that I am more and +more proud of you every day, as my daughter. I don't dare to tell you +half the nice things that are said of you. It would make you vain." And +the proud mother kissed her affectionately. The letters ceased. If the +governess wrote, Evelyn did not see the letters. + +As the days went by, Lord Montague, in high and confident spirits, became +more and more a familiar inmate of the house. Daily he sent flowers to +Evelyn; he contrived little excursions and suppers; he was marked in his +attentions wherever they went. "He is such a dear fellow," said Mrs. +Mavick to one of her friends; "I don't know how we should get on without +him." + +Only, in the house, owing to some unnatural perversity of circumstances, +he did not see much of Evelyn, never alone for more than a moment. It is +wonderful what efficient, though invisible, defenses most women, when +they will, can throw about themselves. + +That the affair was "arranged" Lord Montague had no doubt. It was not +conceivable that the daughter of an American stock-broker would refuse +the offer of a position so transcendent and so evidently coveted in a +democratic society. Not that the single-minded young man reasoned about +it this way. He was born with a most comfortable belief in himself and +the knowledge that when he decided to become a domestic man he had +simply, as the phrase is, to throw his handkerchief. + +At home, where such qualities as distinguished him from the common were +appreciated without the need of personal exertion, this might be true; +but in America it did seem to be somehow different. American women, at +least some of them, did need to be personally wooed; and many of them had +a sort of independence in the bestowal of their affections or, what they +understood to be the same thing, themselves that must be taken into +account. And it gradually dawned upon the mind of this inheritor of +privilege that in this case the approval of the family, even the pressure +of the mother, was not sufficient; he must have also Evelyn's consent. +If she were a mature woman who knew and appreciated the world, she would +perceive the advantages offered to her without argument. But a girl, +just released from the care of her governess, unaccustomed to society, +might have notions, or, in the vernacular of the scion, might be +skittish. + +And then, again, to do the wooer entire justice, the dark little girl, so +much mistress of herself, so evidently spirited, with such an air of +distinction, began to separate herself in his mind as a good goer against +the field, and he had a real desire to win her affection. The more +indifferent she was to him, the keener was his desire to possess her. +His unsuccessful wooing had passed through several stages, first +astonishment, then pique, and finally something very like passion, or a +fair semblance of devotion, backed, of course, since all natures are more +or less mixed, by the fact that this attractive figure of the woman was +thrown into high relief by the colossal fortune behind her. + +And Evelyn herself? Neither her mother nor her suitor appreciated the +uncommon circumstances that her education, her whole training in +familiarity with pure and lofty ideals, had rendered her measurably +insensible to the social considerations that seemed paramount to them, or +that there could be any real obstacle to the bestowal of her person. +where her heart was not engaged. Yet she perfectly understood her +situation, and, at times, deprived of her lifelong support, she felt +powerless in it, and she suffered as only the pure and the noble can +suffer. Day after day she fought her battle alone, now and then, as the +situation confronted her, assailed by a shudder of fear, as of one +awakening in the night from a dream of peril, the clutch of an assassin, +or the walking on an icy precipice. If McDonald were only with her! If +she could only hear from Philip! Perhaps he had lost hope and was +submitting to the inevitable. + +The opportunity which Lord Montague had long sought came one day +unexpectedly, or perhaps it was contrived. They were waiting in the +drawing-room for an afternoon drive. The carriage was delayed, and Mrs. +Mavick excused herself to ascertain the cause of the delay. Evelyn and +her suitor were left alone. She was standing by a window looking out, +and he was standing by the fireplace watching the swing of the figure on +the pendulum of the tall mantelpiece clock. He was the first to break +the silence. + +"Your clock, Miss Mavick, is a little fast." No reply. "Or else I am +slow." Still no reply. "They say, you know, that I am a little slow, +over here." No reply. "I am not, really, you know. I know my mind. +And there was something, Miss Mavick, something particular, that I wanted +to say to you." + +"Yes?" without turning round. "The carriage will be here in a minute." + +"Never mind that," and Lord Montague moved away from the fireplace and +approached the girl; "take care of the minutes and the hours will take +care of themselves, as the saying is." At this unexpected stroke of +brilliancy Evelyn did turn round, and stood in an expectant attitude. +The moment had evidently come, and she would not meet it like a coward. + +"We have been friends a long time; not so very long, but it seems to me +the best part of my life," he was looking down and speaking slowly, with +the modest deference of a gentleman, "and you must have seen, that is, I +wanted you to see, you know well, that is--er--what I was staying on here +for." + +"Because you like America, I suppose," said Evelyn, coolly. + +"Because I like some things in America--that is just the fact," continued +the little lord, with more confidence. "And that is why I stayed. You +see I couldn't go away and leave what was best in the world to me." + +There was an air of simplicity and sincerity about this that was +unexpected, and could not but be respected by any woman. But Evelyn +waited, still immovable. + +"It wasn't reasonable that you should like a stranger right off," he went +on, "just at first, and I waited till you got to know me better. Ways +are different here and over there, I know that, but if you came to know +me, Miss Mavick, you would see that I am not such a bad sort of a +fellow." And a deprecatory smile lighted up his face that was almost +pathetic. To Evelyn this humility seemed genuine, and perhaps it was, +for the moment. Certainly the eyes she bent on, the odd little figure +were less severe. + +"All this is painful to me, Lord Montague." + +"I'm sorry," he continued, in the same tone. "I cannot help it. +I must say it. I--you must know that I love you." And then, not heeding +the nervous start the girl gave in stepping backward, "And--and, will you +be my wife?" + +"You do me too much honor, Lord Montague," said Evelyn, summoning up all +her courage. + +"No, no, not a bit of it." + +"I am obliged to you for your good opinion, but you know I am almost a +school-girl. My governess has just left me. I have never thought of +such a thing. And, Lord Montague, I cannot return your feeling. That is +all. You must see how painful this is to me." + +"I wouldn't give you pain, Miss Mavick, not for the world. Perhaps when +you think it over it will seem different to you. I am sure it will. +Don't answer now, for good." + +"No, no, it cannot be," said Evelyn, with something of alarm in her tone, +for the full meaning of it all came over her as she thought of her +mother. + +"You are not offended?" + +"No," said Evelyn. + +"I couldn't bear to offend you. You cannot think I would. And you will +not be hard-hearted. You know me, Miss Mavick, just where I am. I'm +just as I said." + +"The carriage is coming," said Mrs. Mavick, who returned at this moment. + +The group for an instant was silent, and then Evelyn said: + +"We have waited so long; mamma, that I am a little tired, and you will +excuse me from the drive this afternoon?" + +"Certainly, my dear." + +When the two were seated in the carriage, Mrs. Mavick turned to Lord +Montague: + +"Well?" + +"No go," replied my lord, as sententiously, and in evident bad humor. + +"What? And you made a direct proposal?" + +"Showed her my whole hand. Made a square offer. Damme, I am not used to +this sort of thing." + +"You don't mean that she refused you?" + +"Don't know what you call it. Wouldn't start." + +"She couldn't have understood you. What did she say?" + +"Said it was too much honor, and that rot. By Jove, she didn't look it. +I rather liked her pluck. She didn't flinch." + +"Oh, is that all?" And Mrs. Mavick spoke as if her mind were relieved. +"What could you expect from such a sudden proposal to a young girl, +almost a child, wholly unused to the world? I should have done the same +thing at her age. It will look different to her when she reflects, and +understands what the position is that is offered her. Leave that to me. + +Lord Montague shook his head and screwed up his keen little eyes. +His mind was in full play. "I know women, Mrs. Mavick, and I tell you +there is something behind this. Somebody has been in the stable." The +noble lord usually dropped into slang when he was excited. + +"I don't understand your language," said Mrs. Mavick, straightening +herself up in her seat. + +"I beg pardon. It is just a way of speaking on the turf. When a +favorite goes lame the morning of the race, we know some one has been +tampering with him. I tell you there is some one else. She has some one +else in her mind. That's the reason of it." + +"Nonsense." cried Mrs. Mavick, with the energy of conviction. +"It's impossible. There is nobody, couldn't be anybody. She has led a +secluded life till this hour. She hasn't a fancy, I know." + +"I hope you are right," he replied, in the tone of a man wishing to take +a cheerful view. "Perhaps I don't understand American girls." + +"I think I do," she said, smiling. "They are generally amenable to +reason. Evelyn now has something definite before her. I am glad you +proposed." + +And this was the truth. Mrs. Mavick was elated. So far her scheme was +completely successful. As to Evelyn, she trusted to various influences +she could bring to bear. Ultimate disobedience of her own wishes she did +not admit as a possible thing. + +A part of her tactics was the pressure of public opinion, so far as +society represents it--that is, what society expects. And therefore it +happened in a few days that a strong suspicion got about that Lord +Montague had proposed formally to the heiress. The suspicion was +strengthened by appearances. Mrs. Mavick did not deny the rumor. That +there was an engagement was not affirmed, but that the honor had been or +would be declined was hardly supposable. + +In the painful interview between mother and daughter concerning this +proposal, Evelyn had no reason to give for her opposition, except that +she did not love him. This point Mrs. Mavick skillfully evaded and +minimized. Of course she would love him in time. The happiest marriages +were founded on social fitness and the judgment of parents, and not on +the inexperienced fancies of young girls. And in this case things had +gone too far to retreat. Lord Montague's attentions had been too open +and undisguised. He had been treated almost as a son by the house. +Society looked upon the affair as already settled. Had Evelyn reflected +on the mortification that would fall upon her mother if she persisted in +her unreasonable attitude? And Mrs. Mavick shed actual tears in thinking +upon her own humiliation. + +The ball which followed these private events was also a part of Mrs. +Mavick's superb tactics. It would be in a way a verification of the +public rumors and a definite form of pressure which public expectation +would exercise upon the lonely girl. + +The splendor of this function is still remembered. There were, however, +features in the glowing descriptions of it which need to be mentioned. +It was assumed that it was for a purpose, that it was in fact, if not a +proclamation, at least an intimation of a new and brilliant Anglo-Saxon +alliance. No one asserted that an engagement existed. But the prominent +figures in the spectacle were the English lord and the young and +beautiful American heiress. There were portraits of both in half-tone. +The full names and titles expectant of Lord Montague were given, a +history of the dukedom of Tewkesbury and its ancient glory, with the long +line of noble names allied to the young lord, who was a social star of +the first magnitude, a great traveler, a sportsman of the stalwart race +that has the world for its field. ("Poor little Monte," said the +managing editor as he passed along these embellishments with his +approval.) + +On the other hand, the proposed alliance was no fall in dignity or family +to the English house. The heiress was the direct descendant of the +Eschelles, an old French family, distinguished in camp and court in the +glorious days of the Grand Monarch. + + + + +XXIII + +Probably no man ever wrote and published a book, a magazine story, or a +bit of verse without an instant decision to repeat the experiment. The +inclination once indulged becomes insatiable. It is not altogether the +gratified vanity of seeing one's self in print, for, before printing was, +the composers and reciters of romances and songs were driven along the +same path of unrest and anxiety, when once they had the least recognition +of their individual distinction. The impulse is more subtle than the +desire for wealth or the craving for political place. In some cases it +is in simple obedience to the longing to create; in others it is a lower +ambition for notoriety, for praise. + +In any case the experiment of authorship, in however humble, a way, has +an analogy to that other tempting occupation of making "investments" in +the stock-market: the first trial is certain to lead to another. If the +author succeeds in any degree, his spirit rises to another attempt in the +hope of a wider recognition. If he fails, that is a reason why he should +convince his fellows that the failure was not inherent in himself, but in +ill-luck or a misdirection of his powers. And the experiment has another +analogy to the noble occupation of levying toll upon the change of +values--a first brilliant success is often a misfortune, inducing an +overestimate of capacity, while a very moderate success, recognized +indeed only as a trial, steadies a man, and sets him upon that serious +diligence upon which alone, either in art or business, any solid fortune +is built. + +Philip was fortunate in that his first novel won him a few friends and a +little recognition, but no popularity. It excited neither envy nor +hostility. In the perfunctory and somewhat commercial good words it +received, he recognized the good-nature of the world. In the few short +reviews that dealt seriously with his work, he was able, when the +excitement of seeing himself discussed had subsided, to read between the +lines why The Puritan Nun had failed to make a larger appeal. It was +idyllic and poetic, but it lacked virility; it lacked also simplicity in +dealing with the simple and profound facts of life. He had been too +solicitous to express himself, to write beautifully, instead of letting +the human emotions with which he had to deal show themselves. One notice +had said that it was too "literary"; by which, of course, the critic +meant that he did not follow the solid traditions, the essential elements +in all the great masterpieces of literature that have been created. And +yet he had shown a quality, a facility, a promise, that had gained him a +foothold and a support in the world of books and of the making of books. +And though he had declined Mr. Ault's tempting offer to illuminate his +transcontinental road with a literary torch, he none the less was pleased +with this recognition of his capacity and the value of his name. + +To say that Philip lived on hope during this summer of heat, suspensions, +and business derangement would be to allow him a too substantial +subsistence. Evelyn, indeed, seemed, at the distance of Newport, more +unattainable than ever, and the scant news he had of the drama enacted +there was a perpetual notice to him of the social gulf that lay between +them. And yet his dream was sustained by occasional assurances from Miss +McDonald of her confidence in Evelyn's belief in him, nay, of her trust, +and she even went so far as to say affection. So he went on building +castles in the air, which melted and were renewed day after day, like the +transient but unfailing splendor of the sunset. + +There was a certain exaltation in this indulgence of his passion that +stimulated his creative faculties, and, while his daily tasks kept him +from being morbid, his imagination was free to play with the construction +of a new story, to which his recent experience would give a certain +solidity and a knowledge of the human struggle as it is. + +He found himself observing character more closely than before, looking +for it not so much in books as in the people he met. There was Murad +Ault, for instance. How he would like to put him into a book! +Of course it would not do to copy a model, raw, like' that, but he fell +to studying his traits, trying to see the common humanity exhibited in +him. Was he a type or was he a freak? This was, however, too dangerous +ground until he knew more of life. + +The week's vacation allowed him by his house was passed in Rivervale. +There, in the calmness of country life, and in the domestic atmosphere of +affection which believed in him, he was far enough removed from the scene +of the spectres of his imagination to see them in proper perspective, and +there the lines of his new venture were laid down, to be worked out +later on, he well knew, in the anxiety and the toil which should endue +the skeleton with life. Rivervale, to be sure, was haunted by the +remembrance of Evelyn; very often the familiar scenes filled him with an +intolerable longing to see again the eyes that had inspired him, to hear +the voice that was like no other in the world, to take the little hand +that had often been so frankly placed in his, and to draw to him the form +in which was embodied all the grace and tender witchery of womanhood. +But the knowledge of what she expected of him was an inspiration, +always present in his visions of her. + +Something of his hopes and fears Alice divined, and he felt her sympathy, +although she did not intrude upon his reticence by any questions. They +talked about Evelyn, but it was Evelyn in Rivervale, not in Newport. In +fact, the sensible girl could regard her cousin's passion as nothing more +than a romance in a young author's life, and to her it was a sign of his +security that he had projected a new story. + +With instinctive perception of his need, she was ever turning his +thoughts upon his literary career. Of course she and all the household +seemed in a conspiracy to flatter and encourage the vanity of authorship. +Was not all the village talking about the reputation he had conferred on +it? Was it not proud of him? Indeed, it did imagine that the world +outside of Rivervale was very much interested in him, and that he was +already an author of distinction. The county Gazette had announced, as +an important piece of news, that the author of The Puritan Nun was on a +visit to his relatives, the Maitlands. This paragraph seemed to stand +out in the paper as an almost immodest exposure of family life, read +furtively at first, and not talked of, and yet every member of the family +was conscious of an increase in the family importance. Aunt Patience +discovered, from her outlook on the road, that summer visitors had a +habit of driving or walking past the house and then turning back to look +at it again. + +So Philip was not only distinguished, but he had the power of conferring +distinction. No one can envy a young author this first taste of fame, +this home recognition. Whatever he may do hereafter, how much more +substantial rewards he may attain, this first sweetness of incense to his +ambition will never come to him again. + +When Philip returned to town, the city was still a social desert, +and he plunged into the work piled up on his desk, the never-ceasing +accumulation of manuscripts, most of them shells which the workers have +dredged up from the mud of the literary ocean, in which the eager +publisher is always expecting to find pearls. Even Celia was still in +the country, and Philip's hours spared from drudgery were given to the +new story. His days, therefore, passed without incident, but not without +pleasure. For whatever annoyances the great city may have usually, it is +in the dull season--that is, the season of its summer out-of-doors +animation--a most attractive and, even stimulating place for the man who +has an absorbing pursuit, say a work in creative fiction. Undisturbed by +social claims or public interests, the very noise and whirl of the gay +metropolis seem to hem him in and protect the world of his own +imagination. + +The first disturbing event in this serenity was the report of the Mavick +ball, already referred to, and the interpretation put upon it by the +newspapers. In this light his plans seemed the merest moonshine. What +became of his fallacious hope of waiting when events were driving on at +this rate? What chance had he in such a social current? Would Evelyn be +strong enough to stem it and to wait also? And to wait for what? For +the indefinite and improbable event of a poor author, hardly yet +recognized as an author, coming into position, into an income (for that +was the weak point in his aspirations) that would not be laughed at by +the millionaire. When he coolly considered it, was it reasonable to +expect that Mr. and Mrs. Mavick would ever permit Evelyn to throw away +the brilliant opportunity for their daughter which was to be the crowning +end of their social ambition? The mere statement of the proposition was +enough to overwhelm him. + +That this would be the opinion of the world he could not doubt. +He felt very much alone. It was not, however, in any resolve to make a +confidante of Celia, but in an absolute need of companionship, that he +went to see if she had returned. That he had any personal interest in +this ball he did not intend to let Celia know, but talk with somebody he +must. Of his deep affection for this friend of his boyhood, there was no +doubt, nor of his knowledge of her devotion to his interests. Why, then, +was he reserved with her upon the absorbing interest of his life? + +Celia had returned, before the opening of the medical college, full of a +new idea. This was nothing new in her restless nature; but if Philip had +not been blinded by the common selfishness of his sex, he might have seen +in the gladness of her welcome of him something more than mere sisterly +affection. + +"Are you real glad to see me, Phil? I thought you might be lonesome by +this time in the deserted city." + +"I was, horribly." He was still holding her hand. "Without a chance to +talk with you or Alice, I am quite an orphan." + +"Ah! You or Alice! "A shade of disappointment came over her face as she +dropped his hand. But she rallied in a moment. + +"Poor boy! You ought to have a guardian. What heroine of romance are +you running after now?" + +"In my new story?" + +"Of course." + +"She isn't very well defined in my mind yet. But a lovely girl, without +anything peculiar, no education to speak of, or career, fascinating in +her womanhood, such as might walk out of the Bible. Don't you think that +would be a novelty? But it is the most difficult to do." + +"Negative. That sort has gone out. Philip, why don't you take the +heroine of the Mavick ball? There is a theme." She was watching him +shrewdly, and saw the flush in his face as he hurriedly asked, + +"Did you ever see her?" + +"Only at a distance. But you must know her well enough for a literary +purpose. The reports of the ball give you the setting of the drama." + +"Did you read them?" + +"I should say I did. Most amusing." + +"Celia, don't you think it would be an ungentlemanly thing to take a +social event like that?" + +"Why, you must take life as it is. Of course you would change the +details. You could lay the scene in Philadelphia. Nobody would suspect +you then." + +Philip shook his head. The conversation was not taking the turn that was +congenial to him. The ball seemed to him a kind of maelstrom in which +all his hopes were likely to be wrecked. And here was his old friend, +the keenest-sighted woman he knew, looking upon it simply as literary +material--a ridiculous social event. He had better change the subject. + +"So the college is not open yet?" + +"No, I came back because I had a new idea, and wanted time to look +around. We haven't got quite the right idea in our city missions. They +have another side. We need country missions." + +"Aren't they that now?" + +"No, I mean for the country. I've been about a good deal all this +vacation, and my ideas are confirmed. The country towns and villages are +full of young hoodlums and toughs, and all sorts of wickedness. They +could be improved by sending city boys up there--yes, and girls of tender +age. I don't mean the worst ones, not altogether. The young of a +certain low class growing up in the country are even worse than the same +class in the city, and they lack a civility of manner which is pretty +sure to exist in a city-bred person." + +"If the country is so bad, why send any more unregenerates into it?" + +"How do you know that anybody is always to be unregenerate? But I +wouldn't send thieves and imbeciles. I would select children of some +capacity, whose circumstances are against them where they are, and I am +sure they would make better material than a good deal of the young +generation in country villages now. This is what I mean by a mission for +the country. We have been bending all our efforts to the reformation of +the cities. What we need to go at now is the reforming of the country." + +"You have taken a big contract," said Philip, smiling at her enthusiasm. +"Don't you intend to go on with medicine?" + +"Certainly. At least far enough to be of some use in breaking up +people's ignorance about their own bodies. Half the physical as well as +moral misery comes from ignorance. Didn't I always tell you that I want +to know? A good many of my associates pretend to be agnostics, neither +believe or disbelieve in anything. The further I go the more I am +convinced that there is a positive basis for things. They talk about the +religion of humanity. I tell you, Philip, that humanity is pretty poor +stuff to build a religion on." + +The talk was wandering far away from what was in Philip's mind, and +presently Celia perceived his want of interest. + +"There, that is enough about myself. I want to know all about you, your +visit to Rivervale, how the publishing house suits you, how the story is +growing." + +And Philip talked about himself, and the rumors in Wall Street, and Mr. +Ault and his offer, and at last about the Mavicks--he could not help +that--until he felt that Celia was what she had always been to him, and +when he went away he held her hand and said what a dear, sweet friend she +was. + +And when he had gone, Celia sat a long time by the window, not seeing +much of the hot street into which she looked, until there were tears in +her eyes. + + + + +XXIV + +There was one man in New York who thoroughly enjoyed the summer. Murad +Ault was, as we say of a man who is free to indulge his natural powers, +in his element. There are ingenious people who think that if the +ordering of nature had been left to them, they could maintain moral +conditions, or at least restore a disturbed equilibrium, without +violence, without calling in the aid of cyclones and of uncontrollable +electric displays, in order to clear the air. There are people also who +hold that the moral atmosphere of the world does not require the +occasional intervention of Murad Ault. + +The conceit is flattering to human nature, but it is not borne out by the +performance of human nature in what is called the business world, which +is in such intimate alliance with the social world in such great centres +of conflict as London, New York, or Chicago. Mr. Ault is everywhere an +integral and necessary part of the prevailing system--that is, the system +by which the moral law is applied to business. The system, perhaps, +cannot be defended, but it cannot be explained without Mr. Ault. We may +argue that such a man is a disturber of trade, of legitimate operations, +of the fairest speculations, but when we see how uniform he is as a +phenomenon, we begin to be convinced that he is somehow indispensable to +the system itself. We cannot exactly understand why a cyclone should +pick up a peaceful village in Nebraska and deposit it in Kansas, where +there, is already enough of that sort, but we cannot conceive of Wall +Street continuing to be Wall Street unless it were now and then visited +by a powerful adjuster like Mr. Ault. + +The advent, then, of Murad Ault in New York was not a novelty, but a +continuation of like phenomena in the Street, ever since the day when +ingenious men discovered that the ability to guess correctly which of two +sparrows, sold for a farthing, lighting on the spire of Trinity Church, +will fly first, is an element in a successful and distinguished career. +There was nothing peculiar in kind in his career, only in the force +exhibited which lifted him among the few whose destructive energy the +world condones and admires as Napoleonic. He may have been an instrument +of Providence. When we do not know exactly what to do with an +exceptional man who is disagreeable, we call him an Instrument of +Providence. + +It is not, then, in anything exceptional that we are interested in the +operations of Murad Ault, but simply on account of his fortuitous +connection with a great fortune which had its origin in very much the +same cyclonic conditions that Mr. Ault reveled in. Those who know Wall +Street best, by reason of sad experience, say that the presiding deity +there is not the Chinese god, Luck, but the awful pagan deity, Nemesis. +Alas! how many innocent persons suffer in order to get justice done in +this world. + +Those who have unimpaired memories may recollect the fortune amassed, +many years previous to this history, by one Rodney Henderson, gathered +and enlarged by means not indictable, but which illustrate the wide +divergence between the criminal code and the moral law. This fortune, +upon the sudden death of its creator, had been largely diverted from its +charitable destination by fraud, by a crime that would have fallen within +the code if it had been known. This fortune had been enjoyed by those +who seized it for many years of great social success, rising into +acknowledged respectability and distinction; and had become the basis of +the chance of social elevation, which is dear to the hearts of so many +excellent people, who are compelled to wander about in a chaotic society +that has no hereditary titles. It was this fortune, the stake in such an +ambition, or perhaps destined in a new possessor to a nobler one, that +came in the way of Mr. Ault's extensive schemes. + +It is not necessary to infer that Mr. Ault was originally actuated by any +greed as to this special accumulation of property, or that he had any +malevolence towards Mr. Mavick; but the eagerness of his personal pursuit +led him into collisions. There were certain possessions of Mr. Mavick +that were desirable for the rounding-out of his plans--these graspings +were many of them understood by the public as necessary to the +"development of a system"--and in this collision of interests and fierce +strength a vindictive feeling was engendered, a feeling born, as has been +hinted, by Mr. Mavick's attempt to trick his temporary ally in a certain +operation, so that Mr. Ault's main purpose was to "down Mavick." +This was no doubt an exaggeration concerning a man with so many domestic +virtues as Mr. Ault, meaning by domestic virtues indulgence of his +family; but a fight for place or property in politics or in the Street +is pretty certain to take on a personal character. + +We can understand now why Mr. Ault read the accounts of the Mavick ball +with a grim smile. In speaking of it he used the vulgar term "splurge," +a word especially offensive to the refined society in which the Mavicks +had gained a foothold. And yet the word was on the lips of a great many +men on the Street. The shifting application of sympathy is a very queer +thing in this world. Mr. Ault was not a snob. Whatever else he was, he +made few pretensions. In his first advent he had been resisted as an +intruder and shunned as a vulgarian; but in time respect for his force +and luck mingled with fear of his reckless talent, and in the course of +events it began to be admitted that the rough diamond was being polished +into one of the corner-stones of the great business edifice. At the time +of this writing he did not altogether lack the sympathy of the Street, +and an increasing number of people were not sorry to see Mr. Mavick get +the worst of it in repeated trials of strength. And in each of these +trials it became increasingly difficult for Mr. Mavick to obtain the +assistance and the credit which are often indispensable to the strongest +men in a panic. + +The truth was that there were many men in the Street who were not sorry +to see Mr. Mavick worried. They remembered perfectly well the omniscient +snobbishness of Thomas Mavick when he held a position in the State +Department at Washington and was at the same time a secret agent of +Rodney Henderson. They did not change their opinion of him when, by his +alliance with Mrs. Henderson, he stepped into control of Mr. Henderson's +property and obtained the mission to Rome; but later on he had been +accepted as one of the powers in the financial world. There were a few +of the old stagers who never trusted him. Uncle Jerry Hollowell, for +instance, used to say, "Mavick is smart, smart as lightnin'; I guess +he'll make ducks and drakes of the Henderson property." They are very +superficial observers of Wall Street who think that character does not +tell there. Mr. Mavick may have realized that when in his straits he +looked around for assistance. + +The history of this panic summer in New York would not be worthy the +reader's attention were not the fortunes of some of his acquaintances +involved in it. It was not more intense than the usual panics, but it +lasted longer on account of the complications with uncertain government +policy, and it produced stagnation in social as well as business circles. +So quiet a place as Rivervale felt it in the diminution of city visitors, +and the great resorts showed it in increased civility to the small number +of guests. + +The summer at Newport, which had not been distinguished by many great +events, was drawing to a close--that is, it was in the period when those +who really loved the charming promenade which is so loved of the sea +began to enjoy themselves, and those who indulge in the pleasures of +hope, based upon a comfortable matrimonial establishment, are reckoning +up the results of the campaign. + +Mrs. Mavick, according to her own assertion, was one of those who enjoy +nature. "Nature and a few friends, not too many, only those whom one +trusts and who are companionable," she had said to Lord Montague. + +This young gentleman had found the pursuit of courtship in America +attended by a good many incidental social luxuries. It had been a wise +policy to impress him with the charm of a society which has unlimited +millions to make it attractive. Even to an impecunious noble there is a +charm in this, although the society itself has some of the lingering +conditions of its money origin. But since the great display of the ball, +and the legitimate inferences drawn from it by the press and the +fashionable world, Mrs. Mavick had endeavored to surround her intended +son-in-law with the toils of domestic peace. + +He must be made to feel at home. And this she did. Mrs. Mavick was as +admirable in the role of a domestic woman as of a woman of the world. +The simple pleasures, the confidences, the intimacies of home life +surrounded him. His own mother, the aged duchess, could not have looked +upon him with more affection, and possibly not have pampered him with so +many luxuries. There was only one thing wanting to make this home +complete. In conventional Europe the contracting parties are not the +signers of the marriage contract. In the United States the parties most +interested take the initiative in making the contract. + +Here lay the difficulty of the situation, a situation that puzzled Lord +Montague and enraged Mrs. Mavick. Evelyn maintained as much indifference +to the domestic as to the worldly situation. Her mother thought her +lifeless and insensible; she even went so far as to call her unwomanly in +her indifference to what any other woman would regard as an opportunity +for a brilliant career. + +Lifeless indeed she was, poor child; physically languid and scarcely able +to drag herself through the daily demands upon her strength. +Her mother made it a reproach that she was so pale and unresponsive. +Apparently she did not resist, she did everything she was told to do. +She passed, indeed, hours with Lord Montague, occasions contrived when +she was left alone in the house with him, and she made heroic efforts to +be interested, to find something in his mind that was in sympathy with +her own thoughts. With a woman's ready instinct she avoided committing +herself to his renewed proposals, sometimes covert, sometimes direct, but +the struggle tired her. At the end of all such interviews she had to +meet her mother, who, with a smile of hope and encouragement, always +said, "Well, I suppose you and Lord Montague have made it up," and then +to encounter the contempt expressed for her as a "goose." + +She was helpless in such toils. At times she felt actually abandoned of +any human aid, and in moods of despondency almost resolved to give up the +struggle. In the eyes of the world it was a good match, it would make +her mother happy, no doubt her father also; and was it not her duty to +put aside her repugnance, and go with the current of the social and +family forces that seemed irresistible? + +Few people can resist doing what is universally expected of them. This +invisible pressure is more difficult to stand against than individual +tyranny. There are no tragedies in our modern life so pathetic as the +ossification of women's hearts when love is crushed under the compulsion +of social and caste requirements. Everybody expected that Evelyn would +accept Lord Montague. It could be said that for her own reputation the +situation required this consummation of the intimacy of the season. And +the mother did not hesitate to put this interpretation upon the events +which were her own creation. + +But with such a character as Evelyn, who was a constant puzzle to her +mother, this argument had very little weight compared with her own sense +of duty to her parents. Her somewhat ideal education made worldly +advantages of little force in her mind, and love the one priceless +possession of a woman's heart which could not be bartered. And yet might +there not be an element of selfishness in this--might not its sacrifice +be a family duty? Mrs. Mavick having found this weak spot in her +daughter's armor, played upon it with all her sweet persuasive skill and +show of tenderness. + +"Of course, dear," she said, "you know what would make me happy. But I +do not want you to yield to my selfishness or even to your father's +ambition to see his only child in an exalted position in life. I can +bear the disappointment. I have had to bear many. But it is your own +happiness I am thinking of. And I think also of the cruel blow your +refusal will inflict upon a man whose heart is bound up in you." + +"But I don't love him." The girl was very pale, and she spoke with an +air of weariness, but still with a sort of dogged persistence. + +"You will in time. A young girl never knows her own heart, any more than +she knows the world." + +"Mother, that isn't all. It would be a sin to him to pretend to give him +a heart that was not his. I can't; I can't." + +"My dear child, that is his affair. He is willing to trust you, and to +win your love. When we act from a sense of duty the way is apt to open +to us. I have never told you of my own earlier experience. +I was not so young as you are when I married Mr. Henderson, but I had not +been without the fancies and experiences of a young girl. I might have +yielded to one of them but for family reasons. My father had lost his +fortune and had died, disappointed and broken down. My mother, a lovely +woman, was not strong, was not capable of fighting the world alone, and +she depended upon me, for in those days I had plenty of courage and +spirit. Mr. Henderson was a widower whom we had known as a friend before +the death of his accomplished wife. In his lonesomeness he turned to me. +In our friendlessness I turned to him. Did I love him? I esteemed him, +I respected him, I trusted him, that was all. He did not ask more than +that. And what a happy life we had! I shared in all his great plans. +And when in the midst of his career, with such large ideas of public +service and philanthropy, he was stricken down, he left to me, in the +confidence of his love, all that fortune which is some day to be yours." +Mrs. Mavick put her handkerchief to her eyes. "Ah, well, our destiny is +not in our hands. Heaven raised up for me another protector, another +friend. Perhaps some of my youthful illusions have vanished, but should +I have been happier if I had indulged them? I know your dear father does +not think so." + +"Mother," cried Evelyn, deeply moved by this unprecedented confidence, "I +cannot bear to see you suffer on my account. But must not every one +decide for herself what is right before God?" + +At this inopportune appeal to a higher power Mrs. Mavick had some +difficulty in restraining her surprise and indignation at what she +considered her child's stubbornness. But she conquered the inclination, +and simply looked sad and appealing when she said: + +"Yes, yes, you must decide for yourself. You must not consider your +mother as I did mine." + +This cruel remark cut the girl to the heart. The world seemed to whirl +around her, right and wrong and duty in a confused maze. Was she, then, +such a monster of ingratitude? She half rose to throw herself at her +mother's feet, upon her mother's mercy. And at the moment it was not her +reason but her heart that saved her. In the moral confusion rose the +image of Philip. Suppose she should gain the whole world and lose him! +And it was love, simple, trusting love, that put courage into her sinking +heart. + +"Mother, it is very hard. I love you; I could die for you. I am so +forlorn. But I cannot, I dare not, do such a thing, such a dreadful +thing!" + +She spoke brokenly, excitedly, she shuddered as she said the last words, +and her eyes were full of tears as she bent down and kissed her mother. + +When she had gone, Mrs. Mavick sat long in her chair, motionless between +bewilderment and rage. In her heart she was saying, "The obstinate, +foolish girl must be brought to reason."" + +A servant entered with a telegram. Mrs. Mavick took it, and held it +listlessly while the servant waited. "You can sign." After the door +closed--she was still thinking of Evelyn--she waited a moment before she +tore the envelope, and with no eagerness unfolded the official yellow +paper. And then she read: + + "I have made an assignment. T. M." + +A half-hour afterwards when a maid entered the room she found Mrs. Mavick +still seated in the armchair, her hands powerless at her side, her eyes +staring into space, her face haggard and old. + + + + +XXV + +The action of Thomas Mavick in giving up the fight was as unexpected in +New York as it was in Newport. It was a shock even to those familiar +with the Street. It was known that he was in trouble, but he had been in +trouble before. It was known that there had been sacrifices, efforts at +extension, efforts at compromise, but the general public fancied that the +Mavick fortune had a core too solid to be washed away by any storm. Only +a very few people knew--such old hands as Uncle Jerry Hollowell, and such +inquisitive bandits as Murad Ault--that the house of Mavick was a house +of cards, and that it might go down when the belief was destroyed that it +was of granite. + +The failure was not an ordinary sensation, and, according to the +excellent practices and differing humors of the daily newspapers, +it was made the most of, until the time came for the heavy weeklies +to handle it in its moral aspects as an illustration of modern +civilization. On the first morning there was substantial unanimity in +assuming the totality of the disaster, and the most ingenious artists in +headlines vied with each other in startling effects: "Crash in Wall +Street." " Mavick Runs Up the White Flag." " King of Wall Street Called +Down." "Ault Takes the Pot." "Dangerous to Dukes." "Mavick Bankrupt." +"The House of Mavick a Ruin." " Dukes and Drakes." "The Sea Goes Over +Him." + +This, however, was only the beginning. The sensation must be prolonged. +The next day there were attenuating circumstances. +It might be only a temporary embarrassment. The assets were vastly +greater than the liabilities. There was talk in financial circles of an +adjustment. With time the house could go on. The next day it was made a +reproach to the house that such deceptive hopes were put upon the public. +Journalistic enterprise had discovered that the extent of the liabilities +had been concealed. This attempt to deceive the public, these defenders +of the public interest would expose. The next day the wind blew from +another direction. The alarmists were rebuked. The creditors were +disposed to be lenient. Doubtful securities were likely to realize more +than was expected. The assignees were sharply scored for not taking the +newspapers into their confidence. + +And so for ten days the failure went on in the newspapers, backward and +forward, now hopeless, now relieved, now sunk in endless complications, +and fallen into the hands of the lawyers who could be trusted with the +most equitable distribution of the property involved, until the reading +public were glad to turn, with the same eager zest, to the case of the +actress who was found dead in a hotel in Jersey City. She was attended +only by her pet poodle, in whose collar was embedded a jewel of great +price. This jewel was traced to a New York establishment, whence it had +disappeared under circumstances that pointed to the criminality of a +scion of a well-known family--an exposure which would shake society to +its foundations. + +Meantime affairs took their usual course. The downfall of Mavick is too +well known in the Street to need explanation here. For a time it was +hoped that sacrifices of great interests would leave a modest little +fortune, but under the pressure of liquidation these hopes melted away. +If anything could be saved it would be only comparatively valueless +securities and embarrassed bits of property that usually are only a +delusion and a source of infinite worry to a bankrupt. It seemed +incredible that such a vast fortune should so disappear; but there were +wise men who, so they declared, had always predicted this disaster. For +some years after Henderson's death the fortune had appeared to expand +marvelously. It was, however, expanded, and not solidified. It had been +risked in many gigantic speculations (such as the Argentine), and it had +been liable to collapse at any time if its central credit was doubted. +Mavick's combinations were splendidly conceived, but he lacked the power +of coordination. And great as were his admitted abilities, he had never +inspired confidence. + +"And, besides," said Uncle Jerry, philosophizing about it in his homely +way, "there's that little devil of a Carmen, the most fascinating woman I +ever knew--it would take the Bank of England to run her. Why, when I see +that Golden House going up, I said I'd give 'em five years to balloon in +it. I was mistaken. They've floated it about eighteen. Some folks are +lucky--up to a certain point.' + +Grave history gives but a paragraph to a personal celebrity of this sort. +When a ship goes down in a tempest off the New England coast, there is a +brief period of public shock and sympathy, and then the world passes on +to other accidents and pleasures; but for months relics of the great +vessel float ashore on lonely headlands or are cast up on sandy beaches, +and for years, in many a home made forlorn by the shipwreck, are aching +hearts and an ever-present calamity. + +The disaster of the house of Mavick was not accepted without a struggle, +lasting long after the public interest in the spectacle had abated--a +struggle to save the ship and then to pick up some debris from the great +wreck. The most pathetic sight in the business world is that of a +bankrupt, old and broken, pursuing with always deluded expectations the +remnants of his fortune, striving to make new combinations, involved in +lawsuits, alternately despairing, alternately hopeful in the chaos of his +affairs. This was the fate of Thomas Mavick. + +The news was all over Newport in a few hours after it had stricken down +Mrs. Mavick. The newspaper details the morning after were read with that +eager interest that the misfortunes of neighbors always excite. After +her first stupor, Mrs. Mavick refused to believe it. It could not be, +and her spirit of resistance rose with the frantic messages she sent to +her husband. Alas, the cold fact of the assignment remained. Still her +courage was not quite beaten down. The suspension could only be +temporary. She would not have it otherwise. Two days she showed herself +as usual in Newport, and carried herself bravely. The sympathy looked or +expressed was wormwood to her, but she met it with a reassuring smile. +To be sure it was very hard to bear such a blow, the result of a stock +intrigue, but it would soon pass over--it was a temporary embarrassment-- +that she said everywhere. + +She had not, however, told the news to Evelyn with any such smiling +confidence. There was still rage in her heart against her daughter, as +if her obstinacy had some connection with this blow of fate, and she did +not soften the announcement. She expected to sting her, and she did +astonish and she did grieve her, for the breaking-up of her world could +not do otherwise; but it was for her mother and not for herself that +Evelyn showed emotion. If their fortune was gone, then the obstacle was +removed that separated her from Philip. The world well lost! This +flashed through her mind before she had fairly grasped the extent of +the fatality, and it blunted her appreciation of it as an unmixed ruin. + +"Poor mamma!" was what she said. + +"Poor me!" cried Mrs. Mavick, looking with amazement at her daughter," +don't you understand that our life is all ruined?" + +"Yes, that part of it, but we are left. It might have been so much +worse." + +"Worse? You have no more feeling than a chip. You are a beggar! That +is all. What do you mean by worse?" + +"If father had done anything dishonorable!" suggested the girl, timidly, +a little scared by her mother's outburst. + +"Evelyn, you are a fool!" + +And perhaps she was, with such preposterous notions of what is really +valuable in life. There could be no doubt of it from Mrs. Mavick's point +of view. + +If Evelyn's conduct exasperated her, the non-appearance of Lord Montague +after the publication of the news seriously alarmed her. +No doubt he was shocked, but she could explain it to him, and perhaps he +was too much interested in Evelyn to be thrown off by this misfortune. +The third day she wrote him a note, a familiar, almost affectionate note, +chiding him for deserting them in their trouble. She assured him that +the news was greatly exaggerated, the embarrassment was only temporary, +such things were always happening in the Street. "You know," she said, +playfully, "it is our American way to be up in a minute when we seem to +be down." She asked him to call, for she had something that was +important to tell him, and, besides, she needed his counsel as a friend +of the house. The note was despatched by a messenger. + +In an hour it was returned, unopened, with a verbal message from his +host, saying that Lord Montague had received important news from London, +and that he had left town the day before. + +"Coward!" muttered the enraged woman, with closed teeth. "Men are all +cowards, put them to the test." + +The energetic woman judged from a too narrow basis. Because Mavick was +weak--and she had always secretly despised him for yielding to her--weak +as compared with her own indomitable spirit, she generalized wildly. Her +opinion of men would have been modified if she had come in contact with +Murad Ault. + +To one man in New York besides Mr. Ault the failure did not seem a +personal calamity. When Philip saw in the steamer departures the name of +Lord Montague, his spirits rose in spite of the thought that the heiress +was no longer an heiress. The sky lifted, there was a promise of fair +weather, the storm, for him, had indeed cleared the air. + +"Dear Philip," wrote Miss McDonald, "it is really dreadful news, but +I cannot be so very downhearted. It is the least of calamities that +could happen to my dear child. Didn't I tell you that it is always +darkest just before the dawn?" + +And Philip needed the hope of the dawn. Trial is good for any one, but +hopeless suffering for none. Philip had not been without hope, but it +was a visionary indulgence, against all evidence. It was the hope of +youth, not of reason. He stuck to his business doggedly, +he stuck to his writing doggedly, but over all his mind was a cloud, an +oppression not favorable to creative effort--that is, creative effort +sweet and not cynical, sunny and not morbid. + +And yet, who shall say that this very experience, this oppression of +circumstance, was not the thing needed for the development of the best +that was in him? Thrown back upon himself and denied an airy soaring in +the heights of a prosperous fancy, he had come to know himself and his +limitations. And in the year he had learned a great deal about his art. +For one thing he had come to the ground. He was looking more at life as +it is. His experience at the publishers had taught him one important +truth, and that is that a big subject does not make a big writer, that +all that any mind can contribute to the general thought of the world in +literature is what is in itself, and if there is nothing in himself it is +vain for the writer to go far afield for a theme. He had seen the young +artists, fretting for want of subjects, wandering the world over in +search of an object fitted to their genius, setting up their easels in +front of the marvels of nature and of art, in the expectation that genius +would descend upon them. + +If they could find something big enough to paint! And he had seen, +in exhibition after exhibition, that the artist who cannot paint a rail- +fence cannot paint a pyramid. A man does not become a good rider by +mounting an elephant; ten to one a donkey would suit him better. Philip +had begun to see that the life around him had elements enough of the +comic and the tragic to give full play to all his powers. + +He began to observe human beings as he had never done before. There were +only two questions, and they are at the bottom of all creative +literature--could he see them, could he make others see them? + +This was all as true before the Mavick failure as after; but, before, +what was the use of effort? Now there was every inducement to effort. +Ambition to succeed had taken on him the hold of necessity. And with a +free mind as to the obstacles that lay between him and the realization of +the great dream of his life, the winning of the one woman who could make +his life complete, Philip set to work with an earnestness and a clearness +of vision that had never been given him before. + +In the wreck of the Mavick estate, in its distribution, there are one or +two things of interest to the general reader. One of these was the fate +of the Golden House, as it was called. Mrs. Mavick had hurried back to +her town house, determined to save it at all hazard. The impossibility +of this was, however, soon apparent even to her intrepid spirit. She +would either sacrifice all else to save it, or--dark thoughts of ending +it in a conflagration entered her mind. This was only her first temper. +But to keep the house without a vast fortune to sustain it was an +impossibility, and, as it was the most conspicuous of Mavick's visible +possessions, perhaps the surrender of it, which she could not prevent, +would save certain odds and ends here and there. Whether she liked it or +not, the woman learned for once that her will had little to do with the +course of events. + +Its destination was gall and wormwood both to Carmen and her husband. +For it fell into the hands of Murad Ault. He coveted it as the most +striking symbol of the position he had conquered in the metropolis. Its +semi-barbaric splendor appealed also to his passion for display. And it +was notable that the taste of the rude lad of poverty--this uncultivated +offspring of a wandering gypsy and herb--collector--perhaps she had +ancient and noble blood in her veins--should be the same for material +ostentation and luxury as that of the cultivated, fastidious Mavick and +his worldly-minded wife. So persistent is the instinct of barbarism in +our modern civilization. + +When Ault told his wife what he had done, that sweet, domestic, and +sensible woman was very far from being elated. + +"I am almost sorry," she said. + +"Sorry for what?" asked Mr. Ault, gently, but greatly surprised. + +"For the Mavicks. I don't mean for Mrs. Mavick--I hear she is a worldly +and revengeful woman--but for the girl. It must be dreadful to turn her +out of all the surroundings of her happy life. And I hear she is as good +as she is lovely. Think what it would be for our own girls." + +"But it can't be helped," said Ault, persuasively. "The house had to be +sold, and it makes no difference who has it, so far as the girl is +concerned." + +"And don't you fear a little for our own girls, launching out that way?" + +"You are afraid they will get lost in that big house?" And Mr. Ault +laughed. "It isn't a bit too big or too good for them. At any rate, my +dear, in they go, and you must get ready to move. The house will be +empty in a week." + +"Murad," and Mrs. Ault spoke as if she were not thinking of the change +for herself, "there is one thing I wish you would do for me, dear." + +"What is that?" + +"Go to Mr. Mavick, or to Mrs. Mavick, or the assignees or whoever, and +have the daughter--yes, and her mother--free to take away anything they +want, anything dear to them by long association. Will you?" + +"I don't see how. Mavick wouldn't do it for us, and I guess he is too +proud to accept anything from me. I don't owe him anything. And then +the property is in the assignment. Whatever is there I bought with the +house." + +"I should be so much happier if you could do something about it." + +"Well, it don't matter much. I guess the assignees can make Mrs. Mavick +believe easy enough that certain things belong to her. But I would not +do it for any other living being but you." + +"By-the-way," he added, "there is another bit of property that I didn't +take, the Newport palace." + +"I should have dreaded that more than the other." + +"So I thought. And I have another plan. It's long been in my mind, and +we will carry it out next summer. There is a little plateau on the side +of the East Mountain in Rivervale, where there used to stand a shack of a +cabin, with a wild sort of garden-patch about it, a tumble-down root +fence, all in the midst of brush and briers. Lord, what a habitation it +was! But such a view--rivers, mountains, meadows, and orchards in the +distance! That is where I lived with my mother. What a life! +I hated everything, everybody but her." + +Mr. Ault paused, his strong, dark face working with passion, as the +memory of his outlawed boyhood revived. Is it possible that this pirate +of the Street had a bit of sentiment at the bottom of his heart? After a +moment he continued: + +"That was the spot to which my mother took me when I was knee-high. I've +bought it, bought the whole hillside. Next summer we will put up a house +there, not a very big house, just a long, low sort of a Moorish pavilion, +the architect calls it. I wish she could see it." + +Mrs. Ault rose, with tears in her gentle eyes, stood by her husband's +chair a moment, ran her fingers through his heavy black locks, bent down +and kissed him, and went away without a word. + +There was another bit of property that was not included in the wreck. +It belonged to Mrs. Mavick. This was a little house in Irving Place, in +which Carmen Eschelle lived with her mother, in the days before the death +of Henderson's first wife, not very happy days for that wife. Carmen had +a fancy for keeping it after her marriage. Not from any sentiment, she +told Mr. Mavick on the occasion of her second marriage, oh, no, but +somehow it seemed to her, in all her vast possessions left to her by +Henderson, the only real estate she had. It was the only thing that had +not passed into the absolute possession and control of Mavick. The great +town house, with all the rest, stood in Mavick's name. What secret +influence had he over her that made her submit to such a foolish +surrender? + +It was in this little house that the reduced family stowed itself after +the downfall. The little house, had it been sentient, would have been +astonished at the entrance into it of the furniture and the remnants of +luxurious living that Mrs. Mavick was persuaded belonged to her +personally. These reminders of former days were, after all, a mockery in +the narrow quarters and the pinched economy of the bankrupt. Yet they +were, for a time useful in preserving to Mrs. Mavick a measure of self- +respect, her self-respect having always been based upon what she had and +not what she was. In truth, the change of lot was harder for Mrs. Mavick +than for Evelyn, since the world in which the latter lived had not been +destroyed. She still had her books, she still had a great love in her +heart, and hope, almost now a sure hope, that her love would blossom +into a great happiness. + +But where was Philip? In all this time why did he make no sign? +At moments a great fear came over her. She was so ignorant of life. +Could he know what misery she was in, the daily witness of her father's +broken condition, of her mother's uncertain temper? + + + + +XXVI + +Is justice done in this world only by a succession of injustices? +Is there any law that a wrong must right a wrong? Did it rebuke the +means by which the vast fortune of Henderson was accumulated, that it was +defeated of any good use by the fraud of his wife? Was her action +punished by the same unscrupulous tactics of the Street that originally +made the fortune? And Ault? Would a stronger pirate arise in time to +despoil him, and so act as the Nemesis of all violation of the law of +honest relations between men? + +The comfort is, in all this struggle of the evil powers, masked as +justice, that the Almighty Ruler of the world does not forget his own, +and shows them a smiling face in the midst of disaster. There is no +mystery in this. For the noble part in man cannot be touched in its +integrity by such vulgar disasters as we are considering. In those days +when Evelyn saw dissolving about her the material splendors of her old +life, while the Golden House was being dismantled, and she was taking sad +leave of the scenes of her girlhood, so vivid with memory of affection +and of intellectual activity, they seemed only the shell, the casting-off +of which gave her freedom. The sun never shone brighter, there was never +such singing in her heart, as on the morning when she was free to go to +Mrs. Van Cortlandt's and throw herself into the arms of her dear +governess and talk of Philip. + +Why not? Perhaps she had not that kind of maidenly shyness, sometimes +called conventional propriety, sometimes described as 'mauvaise honte' +which a woman of the world would have shown. The impulses of her heart +followed as direct lines as the reasoning of her brain. Was it due to +her peculiar education, education only in the noblest ideas of the race, +that she should be a sort of reversion, in our complicated life, to the +type of woman in the old societies (we like to believe there was such a +type as the poets love, the Nausicaas), who were single-minded, as frank +to avow affection as opinion? + +"Have you seen him?" she asked. + +"No, but he has written." + +"And you think he--" the girl had her arms around her friend's neck +again, and concealed her blushing face don't make me say it, McDonald." + +"Yes, dear, I am sure--I know he does." + +There was a little quiver in her form, but it was not of agony; then she +put her hands on the shoulders of her governess, and, looking in her +eyes, said: + +"When you did see him, how did he look--how did he look?--pretty sad?" + +"How could he help it?" + +"The dear! But was he well?" + +"Splendidly, so he said. Like his old self." + +"Tell me," said the girl. + +And Miss McDonald went into delightful details, how he looked, how he +walked, how his voice sounded, how he talked, how melancholy he was, and +how full of determination he was, his eyes were so kindly, and his smile +was never so sweet as now when there was sadness in it. + +"It is very long since," drearily murmured the girl. And then she +continued, partly to herself, partly to Miss McDonald: "He will come now, +can't he? Not to that house. Never would I wish him to set foot in it. +But he is not forbidden to come to the place where we are going. Soon, +you think? Perhaps you might hint--oh no, not from me--just your idea. +Wouldn't it be natural, after our misfortune? Perhaps mamma would feel +differently after what has happened. Oh, that Montague! that horrid +little man! I think--I think I shall receive him coolly at first, just +to see." + +But it was not immediately that the chance for a guileless woman to show +her coolness to her lover was to occur. This postponement was not due to +the coolness or to the good sense of Philip. When the catastrophe came, +his first impulse was that of a fireman who plunges into a burning +building to rescue the imperiled inmates. He pictured in his mind a +certain nobility of action in going forward to the unfortunate family +with his sympathy, and appearing to them in the heroic attitude of a man +whose love has no alloy of self-interest. They should speedily +understand that it was not the heiress, but the woman, with whom he was +in love. + +But Miss McDonald understood human nature better than that, at least the +nature of Mrs. Mavick. People of her temperament, humiliated and +enraged, are best left alone. The fierceness with which she would have +turned upon any of her society friends who should have presumed to offer +her condolence, however sweetly the condescension were concealed, would +have been vented without mercy upon the man whose presence would have +reminded her of her foolish rudeness to him, and of the bitter failure of +her schemes for her daughter. "Wait, wait," said the good counselor, +"until the turmoil has subsided, and the hard pressure of circumstances +compels her to look at things in their natural relations. She is too +sore now in--the wreck of all her hopes." + +But, indeed, her hopes were not all surrendered in a moment. She had +more spirit than her husband in their calamity. She was, in fact, a born +gambler; she had the qualities of her temperament, and would not believe +that courage and luck could not retrieve, at least partially, their +fortune. It seemed incredible in the Street that the widow of Henderson +should have given over her property so completely to her second husband, +and it was a surprise to find that there was very little of value that +the assignment of Mavick did not carry with it. The Street did not know +the guilty secret between Mavick and his wife that made them cowards to +each other. Nor did it understand that Carmen was the more venturesome +gambler of the two, and that gradually, for the success of promising +schemes, she had thrown one thing after another into the common +speculation, until practically all the property stood in Mavick's name. +Was she a fool in this, as so many women are about their separate +property, or was she cheated? + +The palace on Fifth Avenue was not even in her name. When she realized +that, there was a scene--but this is not a history of the quarrels of +Carmen and her husband after the break-down. + +The reader would not be interested--the public of the time were not--in +the adjustment of Mavick and his wife to their new conditions. +The broken-down, defeated bankrupt is no novelty in Wall Street, the man +struggling to keep his foothold in the business of the Street, and +descending lower and lower in the scale. The shrewd curbstone broker may +climb to a seat in the Stock Exchange; quite as often a lord of the +Board, a commander of millions, may be reduced to the seedy watcher of +the bulletin-board in a bucket-shop. + +At first, in the excitement and the confusion, amid the debris of so much +possible wealth, Mavick kept a sort of position, and did not immediately +feel the pinch of vulgar poverty. But the day came when all illusion +vanished, and it was a question of providing from day to day for the +small requirements of the house in Irving Place. + +It was not a cheerful household; reproaches are hard to bear when +physical energy is wanting to resist them. Mavick had visibly aged +during the year. It was only in his office that he maintained anything +of the spruce appearance and 'sang froid' which had distinguished the +diplomatist and the young adventurer. At home he had fallen into the +slovenliness that marks a disappointed old age. Was Mrs. Mavick peevish +and unreasonable? Very likely. And had she not reason to be? Was she, +as a woman, any more likely to be reconciled to her fate when her mirror +told her, with pitiless reflection, that she was an old woman? + +Philip waited. Under the circumstances would not both Philip and Evelyn +have been justified in disregarding the prohibition that forbade their +meeting or even writing to each other? It may be a nice question, but it +did not seem so to these two, who did not juggle with their consciences. +Philip had given his word. Evelyn would tolerate no concealments; she +was just that simple-minded in her filial notions. + +The girl, however, had one comfort, and that was the knowledge of Philip +through Miss McDonald, whom she saw frequently, and to whom even Mrs. +Mavick was in a manner reconciled. She was often in the little house in +Irving Place. There was nothing in her manner to remind Mrs. Mavick that +she had done her a great wrong, and her cheerfulness and good sense made +her presence and talk a relief from the monotony of the defeated woman's +life. + +It came about, therefore, that one day Philip made his way down into the +city to seek an interview with Mr. Mavick. He found him, after some +inquiry, in a barren little office, occupying one of the rented desks +with three or four habitues of the Street, one of them an old man like +himself, the others mere lads who did not intend to remain long in such +cramped quarters. + +Mr. Mavick arose when his visitor stood at his desk, buttoned up his +frock-coat, and extended his hand with a show of business cordiality, and +motioned him to a chair. Philip was greatly shocked at the change in Mr. +Mavick's appearance. + +"I beg your pardon," he said, "for disturbing you in business hours." + +"No disturbance," he answered, with something of the old cynical smile on +his lips. + +"Long ago I called to see you on the errand I have now, but you were not +in town. It was, Mr. Mavick," and Philip hesitated and looked down, "in +regard to your daughter." + +"Ah, I did not hear of it." + +"No? Well, Mr. Mavick, I was pretty presumptuous, for I had no foothold +in the city, except a law clerkship." + +"I remember--Hunt, Sharp & Tweedle; why didn't you keep it?" + +"I wasn't fitted for the law." + +"Oh, literature? Does literature pay?" + +"Not in itself, not for many," and Philip forced a laugh. "But it led to +a situation in a first-rate publishing house--an apprenticeship that has +now given me a position that seems to be permanent, with prospects +beyond, and a very fair salary. It would not seem much to you, +Mr. Mavick," and Philip tried to laugh again. + +"I don't know," replied Mr. Mavick. "If a fellow has any sort of salary +these times, I should advise him to hold on to it. By-the-way, +Mr. Burnett, Hunt's a Republican, isn't he?" + +"He was," replied Philip, "the last I knew." + +"Do you happen to know whether he knows Bilbrick, the present Collector?" + +"Mr. Bilbrick used to be a client of his." + +"Just so. I think I'll see Hunt. A salary isn't a bad thing for a--for +a man who has retired pretty much from business. But you were saying, +Mr. Burnett?" + +"I was going to say, Mr. Mavick, that there was a little something more +than my salary that I can count on pretty regularly now from the +magazines, and I have had another story, a novel, accepted, and--you +won't think me vain--the publisher says it will go; if it doesn't have a +big sale he will--" + +"Make it up to you?" + +"Not exactly," and Philip laughed; "he will be greatly mistaken." + +"I suppose it is a kind of lottery, like most things. The publishers +have to take risks. The only harm I wish them is that they were +compelled to read all the stuff they try to make us read. Ah, well. Mr. +Burnett, I hope you have made a hit. It is pretty much the same thing in +our business. The publisher bulls his own book and bears the other +fellow's. Is it a New York story?" + +"Partly; things come to a focus here, you know." + +"I could give you points. It's a devil of a place. I guess the +novelists are too near to see the romance of it. When I was in Rome I +amused myself by diving into the mediaeval records. Steel and poison +were the weapons then. We have a different method now, but it comes to +the same thing, and we say we are more civilized. I think our way is +more devilishly dramatic than the old brute fashion. Yes, I could give +you points." + +"I should be greatly obliged," said Philip, seeing the way to bring the +conversation back to its starting point; "your wide experience of life-- +if you had leisure at home some time." + +"Oh," replied Mavick, with more good-humor in his laugh than he had shown +before, "you needn't beat about the bush. Have you seen Evelyn?" + +"No, not since that dinner at the Van Cortlandts'." + +"Huh! for myself, I should be pleased to see you any time, Mr. Burnett. +Mrs. Mavick hasn't felt like seeing anybody lately. But I'll see, I'll +see." + +The two men rose and shook hands, as men shake hands when they have an +understanding. + +"I'm glad you are doing well," Mr. Mavick added; "your life is before +you, mine is behind me; that makes a heap of difference." + +Within a few days Philip received a note from Mrs. Mavick--not an +effusive note, not an explanatory note, not an apologetic note, simply a +note as if nothing unusual had happened--if Mr. Burnett had leisure, +would he drop in at five o'clock in Irving Place for a cup of tea? + +Not one minute by his watch after the hour named, Philip rang the bell +and was shown into a little parlor at the front. There was only one +person in the room, a lady in exquisite toilet, who rose rather languidly +to meet him, exactly as if the visitor were accustomed to drop in to tea +at that hour. + +Philip hesitated a moment near the door, embarrassed by a mortifying +recollection of his last interview with Mrs. Mavick, and in that moment +he saw her face. Heavens, what a change! And yet it was a smiling face. + +There is a portrait of Carmen by a foreign artist, who was years ago the +temporary fashion in New York, painted the year after her second marriage +and her return from Rome, which excited much comment at the time. Philip +had seen it in more than one portrait exhibition. + +Its technical excellence was considerable. The artist had evidently +intended to represent a woman piquant and fascinating, if not strictly +beautiful. Many persons said it was lovely. Other critics said that, +whether the artist intended it or not, he had revealed the real character +of the subject. There was something sinister in its beauty. One artist, +who was out of fashion as an idealist, said, of course privately, that +the more he looked at it the more hideous it became to him--like one of +Blake's objective portraits of a "soul"--the naked soul of an evil woman +showing through the mask of all her feminine fascinations--the possible +hell, so he put it, under a woman's charm. + +It was this in the portrait that Philip saw in the face smiling a +welcome--like an old, sweetly smiling Lalage--from which had passed away +youth and the sustaining consciousness of wealth and of a place in the +great world. The smile was no longer sweet, though the words from the +lips were honeyed. + +"It is very good of you to drop in in this way, Mr. Burnett," she said, +as she gave him her hand. "It is very quiet down here." + +"It is to me the pleasantest part of the city." + +"You think so now. I thought so once," and there was a note of sadness +in her voice. "But it isn't New York. It is a place for the people who +are left." + +"But it has associations." + +"Yes, I know. We pretend that it is more aristocratic. That means the +rents are lower. It is a place for youth to begin and for age to end. +We seem to go round in a circle. Mr. Mavick began in the service of the +government, now he has entered it again--ah, you did not know?--a place +in the Custom-House. He says it is easier to collect other people's +revenues than your own. Do you know, Mr. Burnett, I do not see much +use in collecting revenues anyway--so far as New York is concerned +the people get little good of them. Look out there at that cloud of dust +in the street." + +Mrs. Mavick rambled on in the whimsical, cynical fashion of old ladies +when they cease to have any active responsibility in life and become +spectators of it. Their remaining enjoyment is the indulgence of frank +speech. + +"But I thought," Philip interrupted, "that this part of the town was +specially New York." + +"New York!" cried Carmen, with animation. "The New York of the +newspapers, of the country imagination; the New York as it is known in +Paris is in Wall Street and in the palaces up-town. Who are the kings of +Wall Street, and who build the palaces up-town? They say that there are +no Athenians in Athens, and no Romans in Rome. How many New-Yorkers are +there in New York? Do New-Yorkers control the capital, rule the +politics, build the palaces, direct the newspapers, furnish the +entertainment, manufacture the literature, set the pace in society? Even +the socialists and mobocrats are not native. Successive invaders, as in +Rome, overrun and occupy the town. + +No, Mr. Burnett, I have left the existing New York. How queer it is to +think about it. My first husband was from New Hampshire. My second +husband was from Illinois. And there is your Murad Ault. The Lord knows +where he came from. + +Talk about the barbarians occupying Rome! Look at that Ault in a +palace! Who was that emperor--Caligula?--I am like the young lady from a +finishing-school who said she never could remember which came first in +history, Greece or Rome--who stabled his horses with stalls and mangers +of gold? The Aults stable themselves that way. Ah, me! Let me give you +a cup of tea. Even that is English." + +"It's an innocent pastime," she continued, as Philip stirred his tea, in +perplexity as to how he should begin to say what he had to say--"you +won't object if I light a cigarette? One ought to retain at least one +bad habit to keep from spiritual pride. Tea is an excuse for this. I +don't think it a bad habit, though some people say that civilization is +only exchanging one bad habit for another. Everything changes." + +"I don't think I have changed, Mrs. Mavick," said Philip, with +earnestness. + +"No? But you will. I have known lots of people who said they never +would change. They all did. No, you need not protest. I believe in you +now, or I should not be drinking tea with you. But you must be +tired of an old woman's gossip. Evelyn has gone out for a walk; she +didn't know. I expect her any minute. Ah, I think that is her ring. I +will let her in. There is nothing so hateful as a surprise." + +She turned and gave Philip her hand, and perhaps she was sincere--she had +a habit of being so when it suited her interests--when she said, "There +are no bygones, my friend." + +Philip waited, his heart beating a hundred to the minute. He heard +greetings and whisperings in the passage-way, and then--time seemed to +stand still--the door opened and Evelyn stood on the threshold, radiant +from her walk, her face flushed, the dainty little figure poised in timid +expectation, in maidenly hesitation, and then she stepped forward to meet +his advance, with welcome in her great eyes, and gave him her hand in the +old-fashioned frankness. + +"I am so glad to see you." + +Philip murmured something in reply and they were seated. + +That was all. It was so different from the meeting as Philip had a +hundred times imagined it. + +"It has been very long," said Philip, who was devouring the girl with his +eyes very long to me." + +"I thought you had been very busy," she replied, demurely. Her composure +was very irritating. + +"If you thought about it at all, Miss Mavick." + +"That is not like you, Mr. Burnett," Evelyn replied, looking up suddenly +with troubled eyes. + +"I didn't mean that," said Philip, moving uneasily in his chair, +"I--so many things have happened. You know a person can be busy and not +happy." + +"I know that. I was not always happy," said the girl, with the air of +making a confession. "But I liked to hear from time to time of the +success of my friends," she added, ingenuously. And then, quite +inconsequently, "I suppose you have news from Rivervale?" + +Yes, Philip heard often from Alice, and he told the news as well as he +could, and the talk drifted along--how strange it seemed!--about things +in which neither of them felt any interest at the moment. +Was there no way to break the barrier that the little brown girl had +thrown around herself? Were all women, then, alike in parrying and +fencing? The talk went on, friendly enough at last, about a thousand +things. It might have been any afternoon call on a dear friend. And at +length Philip rose to go. + +"I hope I may see you again, soon." + +"Of course," said Evelyn, cheerfully. "I am sure father will be +delighted to see you. He enjoys so little now." + +He had taken both her hands to say good-by, and was looking hungrily into +her eyes. + +"I can't go so. Evelyn, you know, you must know, I love you." + +And before the girl comprehended him he had drawn her to him and pressed +his lips upon hers. + +The girl started back as if stung, and looked at him with flashing eyes. + +"What have you done, what have you done to me?" + +Her eyes were clouded, and she put her hands to her face, trembling, and +then with a cry, as of a soul born into the world, threw herself upon +him, her arms around his neck-- + +"Philip, Philip, my Philip!" + + + +XXVII + +Perhaps Philip's announcement of his good-fortune to Alice and to Celia +was not very coherent, but his meaning was plain. Perhaps he was +conscious that the tidings would not increase the cheerfulness of Celia's +single-handed struggle for the ideal life; at least, he would rather +write than tell her face to face. + +However he put the matter to her, with what protestations of affectionate +friendship and trust he wrapped up the statement that he made as matter +of fact as possible, he could not conceal the ecstatic state of his mind. + +Nothing like it certainly had happened to anybody in the world before. +All the dream of his boyhood, romantic and rose-colored, all the +aspirations of his manhood, for recognition, honor, a place in the life +of his time, were mere illusions compared to this wonderful crown of +life--a woman's love. Where did it come from into this miserable world, +this heavenly ray, this pure gift out of the divine beneficence, this +spotless flower in a humanity so astray, this sure prophecy of the final +redemption of the world? The immeasurable love of a good woman! And to +him! Philip felt humble in his exaltation, charitable in his selfish +appropriation. He wanted to write to Celia--but he did not--that he +loved her more than ever. But to Alice he could pour out his wealth +of affection, quickened to all the world by this great love, for he knew +that her happiness would be in his happiness. + +The response from Alice was what he expected, tender, sweet, domestic, +and it was full of praise of Evelyn, of love for her. "Perhaps, dear +Phil," she wrote, "I shall love her more than I do you. I almost think-- +did I not remember what a bad boy you could be sometimes--that each one +of you is too good for the other. But, Phil, if you should ever come to +think that she is not too good for you, you will not be good enough for +her. I can't think she is perfect, any more than you are perfect--you +will find that she is just a woman--but there is nothing in all life so +precious as such a heart as hers. You will come here, of course, and at +once, whenever it is. You know that big, square, old-fashioned corner +chamber, with the high-poster. That is yours. Evelyn never saw it. The +morning and the evening sun shoot across it, and the front windows look +on the great green crown of Mount Peak. You know it. There is not such +a place in the world to hear the low and peaceful murmur of the river, +all night long, rushing, tumbling, crooning, I used to think when I was a +little girl and dreamed of things unseen, and still going on when the +birds begin to sing in the dawn. And with Evelyn! Dear Phil!" + +It was in another strain, but not less full of real affection, that Celia +wrote: + +"I am not going to congratulate you. You are long past the need of that. +But you know that I am happy in having you happy. You thought I never +saw anything? I wonder if men are as blind as they seem to be? And I +had fears. Do you know a man ought to build his own monument. If he +goes into a monument built for him, that is the end of him. Now you can +work, and you will. I am so glad she isn't an heiress any more. I guess +there was a curse on that fortune. But she has eluded it. I believe all +you tell me about her. Perhaps there are more such women in the world +than you think. Some day I shall know her, and soon. I do long to see +her. Love her I feel sure I shall. + +"You ask about myself. I am the same, but things change. When I get my +medical diploma I shall decide what to do. My little property just +suffices, with economy, and I enjoy economy. I doubt if I do any general +practice for pay. There are so many young doctors that need the money +for practice more than I do. And perhaps taking it up as a living would +make me sort of hard and perfunctory. And there is so much to do in this +great New York among the unfortunate that a woman who knows medicine can +do better than any one else. + +"Ah, me, I am happy in a way, or I expect to be. Everybody--it isn't +because I am a woman I say this--needs something to lean on now and then. +There isn't much to lean on in the college, nor in many of my zealous and +ambitious companions there. There is more faith in the poor people down +in the wards where I go. They are kind to each other, and most of them, +not all, believe in something. They, have that, at any rate, in all +their trials and poverty. Philip, don't despise the invisible. I have +got into the habit of going into a Catholic church down there, when I am +tired and discouraged, and getting the peace of it. It is a sort of open +door! You need not jump to the conclusion that I am 'going over.' Maybe +I am going back. I don't know. I have always you know, been looking for +something. + +I like to sit there in that dim quiet and think of things I can't think +of elsewhere. Do you think I am queer? Philip, all women are queer. +They haven't yet been explained. That is the reason why the novelists +find it next to impossible, with all the materials at hand, to make a +good woman--that is a woman. Do you know what it is to want what you +don't want? Longing is one thing and reason another. + +Perhaps I have depended too much on my reason. If you long to go to a +place where you will have peace, why should you let what you call your +reason stand in the way? Perhaps your reason is foolishness. You will +laugh a little at this, and say that I am tired. No. Only I am not so +sure of things as I used to be. Do you remember when we children used to +sit under that tree by the Deerfield, how confident I was that I +understood all about life, and my airs of superiority? + +Well, I don't know as much now. But there is one thing that has survived +and grown with the years, and that, Philip, is your dear friendship." + +What was it in this unassuming, but no doubt sufficiently conceited and +ambitious, young fellow that he should have the affection, the love, of +three such women? + +Is affection as whimsically, as blindly distributed as wealth? It is the +experience of life that it is rare to keep either to the end, but as a +man is judged not so much by his ability to make money as to keep it, so +it is fair to estimate his qualities by his power to retain friendship. +New York is full of failures, bankrupts in fortune and bankrupts in +affection, but this melancholy aspect of the town is on the surface, and +is not to be considered in comparison with the great body of moderately +contented, moderately successful, and on the whole happy households. In +this it is a microcosm of the world. + +To Evelyn and Philip, judging the world a good deal by each other, +in those months before their marriage, when surprising perfection and new +tenderness were daily developed, the gay and busy city seemed a sort of +paradise. + +Mysterious things were going on in the weeks immediately preceding the +wedding. There was a conspiracy between Miss McDonald and Philip in the +furnishing and setting in order a tiny apartment on the Heights, +overlooking the city, the lordly Hudson, and its romantic hills. +And when, after the ceremony, on a radiant afternoon in early June, the +wedded lovers went to their new home, it was the housekeeper, the old +governess, who opened the door and took into her arms the child she had +loved and lost awhile. + +This fragment of history leaves Philip Burnett on the threshold of his +career. Those who know him only by his books may have been interested in +his experiences, in the merciful interposition of disaster, before he +came into the great fortune of the love of Evelyn Mavick. + + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of That Fortune +by Charles Dudley Warner + diff --git a/old/cwfrt10.zip b/old/cwfrt10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..633c449 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/cwfrt10.zip diff --git a/old/cwfrt11.txt b/old/cwfrt11.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b5ceb69 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/cwfrt11.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9433 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of That Fortune by Charles Dudley Warner +#9 in our series by Charles Dudley Warner + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!!!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. + +Please do not remove this. + +This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book. +Do not change or edit it without written permission. 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Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.10/04/01*END* + + + + + +This etext was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + + + + + +THAT FORTUNE + +By Charles Dudley Warner + + +On a summer day, long gone among the summer days that come but to go, a +lad of twelve years was idly and recklessly swinging in the top of a tall +hickory, the advance picket of a mountain forest. The tree was on the +edge of a steep declivity of rocky pasture-land that fell rapidly down to +the stately chestnuts, to the orchard, to the cornfields in the narrow +valley, and the maples on the bank of the amber river, whose loud, +unceasing murmur came to the lad on his aerial perch like the voice of +some tradition of nature that he could not understand. + +He had climbed to the topmost branch of the lithe and tough tree in order +to take the full swing of this free creature in its sport with the +western wind. There was something exhilarating in this elemental battle +of the forces that urge and the forces that resist, and the harder the +wind blew, and the wider circles he took in the free air, the more +stirred the boy was in the spring of his life. Nature was taking him by +the hand, and it might be that in that moment ambition was born to +achieve for himself, to conquer. + +If you had asked him why he was there, he would very likely have said, +"To see the world." It was a world worth seeing. The prospect might be +limited to a dull eye, but not to this lad, who loved to climb this +height, in order to be with himself and indulge the dreams of youth. +Any pretense would suffice for taking this hour of freedom: to hunt for +the spicy checker-berries and the pungent sassafras; to aggravate the +woodchucks, who made their homes in mysterious passages in this gravelly +hillside; to get a nosegay of columbine for the girl who spelled against +him in school and was his gentle comrade morning and evening along the +river road where grew the sweet-flag and the snap-dragon and the barberry +bush; to make friends with the elegant gray squirrel and the lively red +squirrel and the comical chipmunk, who were not much afraid of this +unarmed naturalist. They may have recognized their kinship to him, +for he could climb like any squirrel, and not one of them could have +clung more securely to this bough where he was swinging, rejoicing in the +strength of his lithe, compact little body. When he shouted in pure +enjoyment of life, they chattered in reply, and eyed him with a primeval +curiosity that had no fear in it. This lad in short trousers, torn +shirt, and a frayed straw hat above his mobile and cheerful face, might +be only another sort of animal, a lover like themselves of the beech-nut +and the hickory-nut. + +It was a gay world up here among the tossing branches. Across the river, +on the first terrace of the hill, were weather-beaten farmhouses, amid +apple orchards and cornfields. Above these rose the wooded dome of Mount +Peak, a thousand feet above the river, and beyond that to the left the +road wound up, through the scriptural land of Bozrah, to high and +lonesome towns on a plateau stretching to unknown regions in the south. +There was no bar to the imagination in that direction. What a gracious +valley, what graceful slopes, what a mass of color bathing this lovely +summer landscape! Down from the west, through hills that crowded on +either side to divert it from its course, ran the sparkling Deerfield, +from among the springs and trout streams of the Hoosac, merrily going on +to the great Connecticut. Along the stream was the ancient highway, or +lowway, where in days before the railway came the stage-coach and the big +transport-wagons used to sway and rattle along on their adventurous +voyage from the gate of the Sea at Boston to the gate of the West at +Albany. + +Below, where the river spread wide among the rocks in shallows, or eddies +in deep, dark pools, was the ancient, long, covered, wooden bridge, +striding diagonally from rock to rock on stone columns, a dusky tunnel +through the air, a passage of gloom flecked with glints of sunlight, that +struggled in crosscurrents through the interstices of the boards, and set +dancing the motes and the dust in a golden haze, a stuffy passage with +odors a century old--who does not know the pungent smell of an old +bridge?--a structure that groaned in all its big timbers when a wagon +invaded it. And then below the bridge the lad could see the historic +meadow, which was a cornfield in the eighteenth century, where Captain +Moses Rice and Phineas Arms came suddenly one summer day to the end of +their planting and hoeing. The house at the foot of the hill where the +boy was cultivating his imagination had been built by Captain Rice, and +in the family burying-ground in the orchard above it lay the body of this +mighty militia-man, and beside him that of Phineas Arms, and on the +headstone of each the legend familiar at that period of our national +life, "Killed by the Indians." Happy Phineas Arms, at the age of +seventeen to exchange in a moment the tedium of the cornfield for +immortality. + +There was a tradition that years after, when the Indians had disappeared +through a gradual process of intoxication and pauperism, a red man had +been seen skulking along the brow of this very hill and peering down +through the bushes where the boy was now perched on a tree, shaking his +fist at the hated civilization, and vengefully, some said pathetically, +looking down into this valley where his race had been so happy in the +natural pursuits of fishing, hunting, and war. On the opposite side of +the river was still to be traced an Indian trail, running to the western +mountains, which the boy intended some time to follow; for this highway +of warlike forays, of messengers of defiance, along which white maidens +had been led captive to Canada, appealed greatly to his imagination. + +The boy lived in these traditions quite as much as in those of the +Revolutionary War into which they invariably glided in his perspective of +history, the redskins and the redcoats being both enemies of his +ancestors. There was the grave of the envied Phineas Arms--that ancient +boy not much older than he--and there were hanging in the kitchen the +musket and powder-horn that his great-grandfather had carried at Bunker +Hill, and did he not know by heart the story of his great-grandmother, +who used to tell his father that she heard when she was a slip of a girl +in Plymouth the cannonading on that awful day when Gage met his +victorious defeat? + +In fact, according to his history-book there had been little but wars in +this peaceful nation: the War of 1812, the Mexican War, the incessant +frontier wars with the Indians, the Kansas War, the Mormon War, the War +for the Union. The echoes of the latter had not yet died away. What a +career he might have had if he had not been born so late in the world! +Swinging in this tree-top, with a vivid consciousness of life, of his own +capacity for action, it seemed a pity that he could not follow the drum +and the flag into such contests as he read about so eagerly. + +And yet this was only a corner of the boy's imagination. He had many +worlds and he lived in each by turn. There was the world of the Old +Testament, of David and Samson, and of those dim figures in the dawn of +history, called the Patriarchs. There was the world of Julius Caesar and +the Latin grammar, though this was scarcely as real to him as the Old +Testament, which was brought to his notice every Sunday as a necessity of +his life, while Caesar and AEneas and the fourth declension were made to +be a task, for some mysterious reason, a part of his education. He had +not been told that they were really a part of the other world which +occupied his mind so much of the time, the world of the Arabian Nights +and Robinson Crusoe, and Coleridge and Shelley and Longfellow, and +Washington Irving and Scott and Thackeray, and Pope's Iliad and +Plutarch's Lives. That this was a living world to the boy was scarcely +his fault, for it must be confessed that those were very antiquated book- +shelves in the old farmhouse to which he had access, and the news had not +been apprehended in this remote valley that the classics of literature +were all as good as dead and buried, and that the human mind had not +really created anything worth modern notice before about the middle of +the nineteenth century. It was not exactly an ignorant valley, for the +daily newspapers were there, and the monthly magazine, and the fashion- +plate of Paris, and the illuminating sunshine of new science, and enough +of the uneasy throb of modern life. Yet somehow the books that were +still books had not been sent to the garret, to make room for the +illustrated papers and the profound physiological studies of sin and +suffering that were produced by touching a scientific button. No, the +boy was conscious in a way of the mighty pulsation of American life, and +he had also a dim notion that his dreams in his various worlds would come +to a brilliant fulfillment when he was big enough to go out and win a +name and fame. But somehow the old books, and the family life, and the +sedate ways of the community he knew, had given him a fundamental and not +unarmed faith in the things that were and had been. + +Every Sunday the preacher denounced the glitter and frivolity and +corruption of what he called Society, until the boy longed to see this +splendid panorama of cities and hasting populations, the seekers of +pleasure and money and fame, this gay world which was as fascinating as +it was wicked. The preacher said the world was wicked and vain. It did +not seem so to the boy this summer day, not at least the world he knew. +Of course the boy had no experience. He had never heard of Juvenal nor +of Max Nordau. He had no philosophy of life. He did not even know that +when he became very old the world would seem to him good or bad according +to the degree in which he had become a good or a bad man. + +In fact, he was not thinking much about being good or being bad, but of +trying his powers in a world which seemed to offer to him infinite +opportunities. His name--Philip Burnett--with which the world, at least +the American world, is now tolerably familiar, and which he liked to +write with ornamental flourishes on the fly-leaves of his schoolbooks, +did not mean much to him, for he had never seen it in print, nor been +confronted with it as something apart from himself. But the Philip that +he was he felt sure would do something in the world. What that something +should be varied from day to day according to the book, the poem, the +history or biography that he was last reading. It would not be difficult +to write a poem like "Thanatopsis" if he took time enough, building up a +line a day. And yet it would be better to be a soldier, a man who could +use the sword as well as the pen, a poet in uniform. This was a pleasing +imagination. Surely his aunt and his cousins in the farmhouse would have +more respect for him if he wore a uniform, and treat him with more +consideration, and perhaps they would be very anxious about him when he +was away in battles, and very proud of him when he came home between +battles, and went quite modestly with the family into the village church, +and felt rather than saw the slight flutter in the pews as he walked down +the aisle, and knew that the young ladies, the girl comrades of the +district school, were watching him from the organ gallery, curious to see +Phil, who had gone into the army. Perhaps the preacher would have a +sermon against war, and the preacher should see how soldierlike he would +take this attack on him. Alas! is such vanity at the bottom of even a +reasonable ambition? Perhaps his town would be proud of him if he were a +lawyer, a Representative in Congress, come back to deliver the annual +oration at the Agricultural Fair. He could see the audience of familiar +faces, and hear the applause at his witty satires and his praise of the +nobility of the farmer's life, and it would be sweet indeed to have the +country people grasp him by the hand and call him Phil, just as they used +to before he was famous. What he would say, he was not thinking of, but +the position he would occupy before the audience. There were no +misgivings in any of these dreams of youth. + + + + +II + +The musings of this dreamer in a tree-top were interrupted by the +peremptory notes of a tin horn from the farmhouse below. The boy +recognized this not only as a signal of declining day and the withdrawal +of the sun behind the mountains, but as a personal and urgent +notification to him that a certain amount of disenchanting drudgery +called chores lay between him and supper and the lamp-illumined pages of +The Last of the Mohicans. It was difficult, even in his own estimation, +to continue to be a hero at the summons of a tin horn--a silver clarion +and castle walls would have been so different--and Phil slid swiftly down +from his perch, envying the squirrels who were under no such bondage of +duty. + +Recalled to the world that now is, the lad hastily gathered a bouquet of +columbine and a bunch of the tender leaves and the red berries of the +wintergreen, called to "Turk," who had been all these hours watching a +woodchuck hole, and ran down the hill by leaps and circuits as fast as +his little legs could carry him, and, with every appearance of a lad who +puts duty before pleasure, arrived breathless at the kitchen door, where +Alice stood waiting for him. Alice, the somewhat feeble performer on the +horn, who had been watching for the boy with her hand shading her eyes, +called out upon his approach: + +"Why, Phil, what in the world--" + +"Oh, Alice!" cried the boy, eagerly, having in a moment changed in his +mind the destination of the flowers; "I've found a place where the +checker-berries are thick as spatter." And Phil put the flowers and the +berries in his cousin's hand. Alice looked very much pleased with this +simple tribute, but, as she admired it, unfortunately asked--women always +ask such questions: + +"And you picked them for me?" + +This was a cruel dilemma. Phil was more devoted to his sweet cousin than +to any one else in the world, and he didn't want to hurt her feelings, +and he hated to tell a lie. So he only looked a lie, out of his +affectionate, truthful eyes, and said: + +"I love to bring you flowers. Has uncle come home yet?" + +"Yes, long ago. He called and looked all around for you to unharness the +horse, and he wanted you to go an errand over the river to Gibson's. +I guess he was put out." + +"Did he say anything?" + +"He asked if you had weeded the beets. And he said that you were the +master boy to dream and moon around he ever saw." And she added, with a +confidential and mischievous smile: "I think you'd better brought a +switch along; it would save time." + +Phil had a great respect for his uncle Maitland, but he feared him almost +more than he feared the remote God of Abraham and Isaac. Mr. Maitland +was not only the most prosperous man in all that region, but the man of +the finest appearance, and a bearing that was equity itself. He was the +first selectman of the town, and a deacon in the church, and however much +he prized mercy in the next world he did not intend to have that quality +interfere with justice in this world. Phil knew indeed that he was a man +of God, that fact was impressed upon him at least twice a day, but he +sometimes used to think it must be a severe God to have that sort of man. +And he didn't like the curt way he pronounced the holy name--he might as +well have called Job "job." + +Alice was as unlike her father, except in certain race qualities of +integrity and common-sense, as if she were of different blood. She was +the youngest of five maiden sisters, and had arrived at the mature age of +eighteen. Slender in figure, with a grace that was half shyness, soft +brown hair, gray eyes that changed color and could as easily be sad as +merry, a face marked with a moving dimple that every one said was lovely, +retiring in manner and yet not lacking spirit nor a sly wit of her own. +Now and then, yes, very often, out of some paradise, no doubt, strays +into New England conditions of reticence and self-denial such a sweet +spirit, to diffuse a breath of heaven in its atmosphere, and to wither +like a rose ungathered. These are the New England nuns, not taking any +vows, not self-consciously virtuous, apparently untouched by the vanities +of the world. Marriage? It is not in any girl's nature not to think of +that, not to be in a flutter of pleasure or apprehension at the +attentions of the other sex. Who has been able truly to read the +thoughts of a shrinking maiden in the passing days of her youth and +beauty? In this harmonious and unselfish household, each with decided +individual character, no one ever intruded upon the inner life of the +other. No confidences were given in the deep matters of the heart, no +sign except a blush over a sly allusion to some one who had been +"attentive." If you had stolen a look into the workbasket or the secret +bureau-drawer, you might have found a treasured note, a bit of ribbon, a +rosebud, some token of tenderness or of friendship that was growing old +with the priestess who cherished it. Did they not love flowers, and +pets, and had they not a passion for children? Were there not moonlight +evenings when they sat silent and musing on the stone steps, watching the +shadows and the dancing gleams on the swift river, when the air was +fragrant with the pink and the lilac? Not melancholy this, nor +poignantly sad, but having in it nevertheless something of the pathos of +life unfulfilled. And was there not sometimes, not yet habitually, +coming upon these faces, faces plain and faces attractive, the shade of +renunciation? + +Phil loved Alice devotedly. She was his confidante, his defender, but he +feared more the disapproval of her sweet eyes when he had done wrong than +the threatened punishment of his uncle. + +"I only meant to be gone just a little while," Phil went on to say. + +"And you were away the whole afternoon. It is a pity the days are so +short. And you don't know what you lost." + +"No great, I guess." + +"Celia and her mother were here. They stayed all the afternoon." + +"Celia Howard? Did she wonder where I was?" + +"I don't know. She didn't say anything about it. What a dear little +thing she is!" + +"And she can say pretty cutting things." + +"Oh, can she? Perhaps you'd better run down to the village before dark +and take her these flowers." + +"I'm not going. I'd rather you should have the flowers." And Phil spoke +the truth this time. + +Celia, who was altogether too young to occupy seriously the mind of a lad +of twelve, had nevertheless gained an ascendancy over him because of her +willful, perverse, and sometimes scornful ways, and because she was +different from the other girls of the school. She had read many more +books than Phil, for she had access to a library, and she could tell him +much of a world that he only heard of through books and newspapers, which +latter he had no habit of reading. He liked, therefore, to be with +Celia, not withstanding her little airs of superiority, and if she +patronized him, as she certainly did, probably the simple-minded young +gentleman, who was unconsciously bred in the belief that he and his own +kin had no superiors anywhere, never noticed it. To be sure they +quarreled a good deal, but truth to say Phil was never more fascinated +with the little witch, whom he felt himself strong enough to protect, +than when she showed a pretty temper. He rather liked to be ordered +about by the little tyrant. And sometimes he wished that Murad Ault, the +big boy of the school, would be rude to the small damsel, so that he +could show her how a knight would act under such circumstances. Murad +Ault stood to Phil for the satanic element in his peaceful world. He was +not only big and strong of limb and broad of chest, but he was very +swarthy, and had closely curled black hair. He feared nothing, not even +the teacher, and was always doing some dare-devil thing to frighten the +children. And because he was dark, morose, and made no friends, and +wished none, but went solitary his own dark way, Phil fancied that he +must have Spanish blood in his veins, and would no doubt grow up to be a +pirate. No other boy in the winter could skate like Murad Ault, with +such strength and grace and recklessness--thin ice and thick ice were all +one to him, but he skated along, dashing in and out, and sweeping away up +and down the river in a whirl of vigor and daring, like a black marauder. +Yet he was best and most awesome in the swimming pond in summer--though +it was believed that he dared go in in the bitter winter, either by +breaking the ice or through an air-hole, and there was a story that he +had ventured under the ice as fearless as a cold fish. No one could dive +from such a height as he, or stay so long under water; he liked to stay +under long enough to scare the spectators, and then appear at a distance, +thrashing about in the water as if he were rescuing himself from +drowning, sputtering out at the same time the most diabolical noises-- +curses, no doubt, for he had been heard to swear. But as he skated alone +he swam alone, appearing and disappearing at the swimming-place silently, +with never a salutation to any one. And he was as skillful a fisher as +he was a swimmer. No one knew much about him. He lived with his mother +in a little cabin up among the hills, that had about it scant patches of +potatoes and corn and beans, a garden fenced in by stumproots, as ill- +cared for as the shanty. Where they came from no one knew. How they +lived was a matter of conjecture, though the mother gathered herbs and +berries and bartered them at the village store, and Murad occasionally +took a hand in some neighbor's hay-field, or got a job of chopping wood +in the winter. The mother was old and small and withered, and they said +evil-eyed. Probably she was no more evil-eyed than any old woman who had +such a hard struggle for existence as she had. An old widow with an only +son who looked like a Spaniard and acted like an imp! Here was another +sort of exotic in the New England life. + +Celia had been brought to Rivervale by her mother about a year before +this time, and the two occupied a neat little cottage in the village, +distinguished only by its neatness and a plot of syringas, and pinks, and +marigolds, and roses, and bachelor's-buttons, and boxes of the tough +little exotics, called "hen-and-chickens," in the door-yard, and a +vigorous fragrant honeysuckle over the front porch. She only dimly +remembered her father, who had been a merchant in a small way in the +city, and dying left to his widow and only child a very moderate fortune. +The girl showed early an active and ingenious mind, and an equal love for +books and for having her own way; but she was delicate, and Mrs. Howard +wisely judged that a few years in a country village would improve her +health and broaden her view of life beyond that of cockney provincialism. +For, though Mrs. Howard had more refinement than strength of mind, and +passed generally for a sweet and inoffensive little woman, she did not +lack a certain true perception of values, due doubtless to the fact that +she had been a New England girl, and, before her marriage and emigration +to the great city, had passed her life among unexciting realities, and +among people who had leisure to think out things in a slow way. But the +girl's energy and self-confidence had no doubt been acquired from her +father, who was cut off in mid-career of his struggle for place in the +metropolis, or from some remote ancestor. Before she was eleven years +old her mother had listened with some wonder and more apprehension to the +eager forecast of what this child intended to do when she became a woman, +and already shrank from a vision of Celia on a public platform, or the +leader of some metempsychosis club. Through her affections only was the +child manageable, but in opposition to her spirit her mother was +practically powerless. Indeed, this little sprout of the New Age always +spoke of her to Philip and to the Maitlands as "little mother." + +The epithet seemed peculiarly tender to Philip, who had lost his father +before he was six years old, and he was more attracted to the timid and +gentle little widow than to his equable but more robust Aunt Eusebia, +Mrs. Maitland, his father's elder sister, whom Philip fancied not a bit +like his father except in sincerity, a quality common to the Maitlands +and Burnetts. Yet there was a family likeness between his aunt and a +portrait of his father, painted by a Boston artist of some celebrity, +which his mother, who survived her husband only three years, had saved +for her boy. His father was a farmer, but a man of considerable +cultivation, though not college-bred--his last request on his death-bed +was that Phil should be sent to college--a man who made experiments in +improving agriculture and the breed of cattle and horses, read papers now +and then on topics of social and political reform, and was the only +farmer in all the hill towns who had what might be called a library. + +It was all scattered at the time of the winding up of the farm estate, +and the only jetsam that Philip inherited out of it was an annotated copy +of Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations, Young's Travels in France, a copy of +The Newcomes, and the first American edition of Childe Harold. Probably +these odd volumes had not been considered worth any considerable bid at +the auction. From his mother, who was fond of books, and had on more +than one occasion, of the failure of teachers, taught in the village +school in her native town before her marriage, Philip inherited his love +of poetry, and he well remembered how she used to try to inspire him with +patriotism by reading the orations of Daniel Webster (she was very fond +of orations), and telling him war stories about Grant and Sherman and +Sheridan and Farragut and Lincoln. He distinctly remembered also +standing at her knees and trying, at intervals, to commit to memory the +Rime of the Ancient Mariner. He had learned it all since, because he +thought it would please his mother, and because there was something in it +that appealed to his coming sense of the mystery of life. When he +repeated it to Celia, who had never heard of it, and remarked that it was +all made up, and that she never tried to learn a long thing like that +that wasn't so, Philip could see that her respect for him increased a +little. He did not know that the child got it out of the library the +next day and never rested till she knew it by heart. Philip could repeat +also the books of the Bible in order, just as glibly as the +multiplication-table, and the little minx, who could not brook that a +country boy should be superior to her in anything, had surprised her +mother by rattling them all off to her one Sunday evening, just as if she +had been born in New England instead of in New York. As to the other +fine things his mother read him, out of Ruskin and the like; Philip +chiefly remembered what a pretty glow there was in his mother's face when +she read them, and that recollection was a valuable part of the boy's +education. + +Another valuable part of his education was the gracious influence in his +aunt's household, the spirit of candor, of affection, and the sane +common-sense with which life was regarded, the simplicity of its faith +and the patience with which trials were borne. The lessons he learned in +it had more practical influence in his life than all the books he read. +Nor were his opportunities for the study of character so meagre as the +limit of one family would imply. As often happens in New England +households, individualities were very marked, and from his stern uncle +and his placid aunt down to the sweet and nimble-witted Alice, the family +had developed traits and even eccentricities enough to make it a sort of +microcosm of life. There, for instance, was Patience, the maiden aunt, +his father's sister, the news-monger of the fireside, whose powers of +ratiocination first gave Philip the Greek idea and method of reasoning to +a point and arriving at truth by the process of exclusion. It did not +excite his wonder at the time, but afterwards it appeared to him as one +of the New England eccentricities of which the novelists make so much. +Patience was a home-keeping body and rarely left the premises except to +go to church on Sunday, although her cheerfulness and social helpfulness +were tinged by nothing morbid. The story was--Philip learned it long +afterwards--that in her very young and frisky days Patience had one +evening remained out at some merry-making very late, and in fact had been +escorted home in the moonlight by a young gentleman when the tall, awful- +faced clock, whose face her mother was watching, was on the dreadful +stroke of eleven. For this delinquency her mother had reproved her, the +girl thought unreasonably, and she had quickly replied, "Mother, I will +never go out again." And she never did. It was in fact a renunciation +of the world, made apparently without rage, and adhered to with cheerful +obstinacy. + +But although for many years Patience rarely left her home, until the +habit of seclusion had become as fixed as that of a nun who had taken the +vows, no one knew so well as she the news and gossip of the neighborhood, +and her power of learning or divining it seemed to increase with her +years. She had a habit of sitting, when her household duties permitted, +at a front window, which commanded a long view of the river road, and +gathering the news by a process peculiar to herself. From this peep-hole +she studied the character and destination of all the passers-by that came +within range of her vision, and made her comments and deductions, partly +to herself, but for the benefit of those who might be listening. + +"Why, there goes Thomas Henry," she would say (she always called people +by their first and middle names). "Now, wherever can he be going this +morning in the very midst of getting in his hay? He can't be going to +the Browns' for vegetables, for they set great store by their own raising +this year; and they don't get their provisions up this way either, +because Mary Ellen quarreled with Simmons's people last year. No! "she +would exclaim, rising to a climax of certainty on this point, "I'll be +bound he is not going after anything in the eating line!" + +Meantime Thomas Henry's wagon would be disappearing slowly up the sandy +road, giving Patience a chance to get all she could out of it, by +eliminating all the errands Thomas Henry could not possibly be going to +do in order to arrive at the one he must certainly be bound on. + +"They do say he's courting Eliza Merritt," she continued, "but Eliza +never was a girl to make any man leave his haying. No, he's never going +to see Eliza, and if it isn't provisions or love it's nothing short of +sickness. Now, whoever is sick down there? It can't be Mary Ellen, +because she takes after her father's family and they are all hearty. It +must be Mary Ellen's little girls, and the measles are going the rounds. +It must be they've all got the measles." + +If the listeners suggested that possibly one of the little girls might +have escaped, the suggestion was decisively put aside. + +"No; if one of them had been well, Mary Ellen would have sent her for the +doctor." + +Presently Thomas Henry's cart was heard rumbling back, and sure enough he +was returning with the doctor, and Patience hailed him from the gate and +demanded news of Mary Ellen. + +"Why, all her little girls have the measles," replied Thomas Henry, "and +I had to leave my haying to fetch the doctor." + +"I want to know," said Patience. + +Being the eldest born, Patience had appropriated to herself two rooms in +the rambling old farmhouse before her brother's marriage, from which +later comers had never dislodged her, and with that innate respect for +the rights and peculiarities of others which was common in the household, +she was left to express her secluded life in her own way. As the habit +of retirement grew upon her she created a world of her own, almost as +curious and more individually striking than the museum of Cluny. There +was not a square foot in her tiny apartment that did not exhibit her +handiwork. She was very fond of reading, and had a passion for the +little prints and engravings of "foreign views," which she wove into her +realm of natural history. There was no flower or leaf or fruit that she +had seen that she could not imitate exactly in wax or paper. All over +the walls hung the little prints and engravings, framed in wreaths of +moss and artificial flowers, or in elaborate square frames made of +pasteboard. The pasteboard was cut out to fit the picture, and the +margins, daubed with paste, were then strewn with seeds of corn and +acorns and hazelnuts, and then the whole was gilded so that the effect +was almost as rich as it was novel. All about the rooms, in nooks and on +tables, stood baskets and dishes of fruit-apples and plums and peaches +and grapes-set in proper foliage of most natural appearance, like enough +to deceive a bird or the Sunday-school scholars, when on rare occasions +they were admitted into this holy of holies. Out of boxes, apparently +filled with earth in the corners of the rooms, grew what seemed to be +vines trained to run all about the cornices and to festoon the pictures, +but which were really strings, colored in imitation of the real vine, and +spreading out into paper foliage. To complete the naturalistic character +of these everlasting vines, which no scale-bugs could assail, there were +bunches of wonderful grapes depending here and there to excite the +cupidity of both bird and child. There was no cruelty in the nature of +Patience, and she made prisoners of neither birds nor squirrels, but +cunning cages here and there held most lifelike counterfeits of their +willing captives. There was nothing in the room that was alive, except +the dainty owner, but it seemed to be a museum of natural history. The +rugs on the floor were of her own devising and sewing together, and +rivaled in color and ingenuity those of Bokhara. + +But Patience was a student of the heavens as well as of the earth, and it +was upon the ceiling that her imagination expanded. There one could see +in their order the constellations of the heavens, represented by paper- +gilt stars, of all magnitudes, most wonderful to behold. This part of +her decorations was the most difficult of all. The constellations were +not made from any geography of the heavens, but from actual nightly +observation of the positions of the heavenly bodies. Patience confessed +that the getting exactly right of the Great Dipper had caused her most +trouble. On the night that was constructed she sat up till three o'clock +in the morning, going out and studying it and coming in and putting up +one star at a time. How could she reach the high ceiling? Oh, she took +a bean-pole, stuck the gilt star on the end of it, having paste on the +reverse side, and fixed it in its place. That was easy, only it was +difficult to remember when she came into the house the correct positions +of the stars in the heavens. What the astronomer and the botanist and +the naturalist would have said of this little kingdom is unknown, but +Patience herself lived among the glories of the heavens and the beauties +of the earth which she had created. Probably she may have had a humorous +conception of this, for she was not lacking in a sense of humor. The +stone step that led to her private door she had skillfully painted with +faint brown spots, so that when visitors made their exit from this part +of the house they would say, "Why, it rains!" but Patience would laugh +and say, "I guess it is over by now." + + + + +III + +"I'm not going to follow you about any more through the brush and +brambles, Phil Burnett," and Celia, emerging from the thicket into a +clearing, flung herself down on a knoll under a beech-tree. + +Celia was cross. They were out for a Saturday holiday on the hillside, +where Phil said there were oceans of raspberries and blueberries, +beginning to get ripe, and where you could hear the partridges drumming +in the woods, and see the squirrels. + +"Why, I'm not a bit tired," said Phil; "a boy wouldn't be." And he threw +himself down on the green moss, with his heels in the air, much more +intent on the chatter of a gray squirrel in the tree above him than on +the complaints of his comrade. + +"Why don't you go with a boy, then?" asked Celia, in a tone intended to +be severe and dignified. + +"A boy isn't so nice," said Philip, with the air of stating a general +proposition, but not looking at her. + + +"Oh," said Celia, only half appeased, "I quite agree with you." And she +pulled down some beech leaves from a low, hanging limb and began to plait +a wreath. + +"Who are you making that for?" asked Philip, who began to be aware that a +cloud had come over his holiday sky. + +"Nobody in particular; it's just a wreath." And then there was silence, +till Philip made another attempt. + +"Celia, I don't mind staying here if you are tired. Tell me something +about New York City. I wish we were there." + +"Much you know about it," said Celia, but with some relaxation of her +severity, for as she looked at the boy in his country clothes and glanced +at her own old frock and abraded shoes, she thought what a funny +appearance the pair would make on a fashionable city street. + +"Would you rather be there?" asked Philip. "I thought you liked living +here." + +"Would I rather? What a question! Everybody would. The country is +a good place to go to when you are tired, as mamma is. But the city! The +big fine houses, and the people all going about in a hurry; the streets +all lighted up at night, so that you can see miles and miles of lights; +and the horses and carriages, and the lovely dresses, and the churches +full of nice people, and such beautiful music! And once mamma took me to +the theatre. Oh, Phil, you ought to see a play, and the actors, all be- +a-u-ti-fully dressed, and talking just like a party in a house, and +dancing, and being funny, and some of it so sad as to make you cry, and +some of it so droll that you had to laugh--just such a world as you read +of in books and in poetry. I was so excited that I saw the stage all +night and could hardly sleep." The girl paused and looked away to the +river as if she saw it all again, and then added in a burst of +confidence: +"Do you know, I mean to be an actress some day, when mamma will let me." + +"Play-actors are wicked," said Phil, in a tone of decision; "our minister +says so, and my uncle says so." + +"Fudge!" returned Celia. "Much they know about it. Did Alice say so?" + +"I never asked her, but she said once that she supposed it was wrong, but +she would like to see a play." + +"There, everybody would. Mamma says the people from the country go to +the theatre always, a good deal more than the people in the city go. I +should like to see your aunt Patience in a theatre and hear what she said +about it. She's an actress if ever there was one." + +Philip opened his eyes in protest. + +"Mamma says it is as good as a play to hear her go on about people, and +what they are like, and what they are going to do, and then her little +rooms are just like a scene on a stage. If they were in New York +everybody would go to see them and to hear her talk." + +This was such a new view of his home life to Philip that he could neither +combat it nor assent to it, further than to say, that his aunt was just +like everybody else, though she did have some peculiar ways. + +"Well, she acts," Celia insisted, "and most people act. Our minister +acts all the time, mamma says." Celia had plenty of opinions of her own, +but when she ventured a startling statement she had the habit of going +under the shelter of "little mother," whose casual and unconsidered +remarks the girl turned to her own uses. Perhaps she would not have +understood that her mother merely meant that the minister's sacerdotal +character was not exactly his own character. Just as Philip noticed +without being able to explain it that his uncle was one sort of a man in +his religious exercises and observances and another sort of man in his +dealings with him. Children often have recondite thoughts that do not +get expression until their minds are more mature; they even accept +contradictory facts in their experience. There was one of the deacons +who was as kind as possible, and Philip believed was a good and pious +man, who had the reputation of being sharp and even tricky in a horse- +trade. And Philip used to think how lucky it was for him that he had +been converted and was saved! + +"Are you going to stay here always?" asked Philip, pursuing his own train +of thought about the city. + +"Here? I should think not. If I were a boy I wouldn't stay here, +I can tell you. What are you going to do, Phil, what are you going to +be?" + +"Oh, I don't know," said Philip, turning over on his back and looking up +into the blue world through the leaves; "go to college, I suppose." +Children are even more reticent than adults about revealing their inner +lives, and Philip would not, even to Celia, have confessed the splendid +dreams about his career that came to him that day in the hickory-tree, +and that occupied him a great deal. + +"Of course," said this wise child, "but that's nothing. I mean, what are +you going to do? My cousin Jim has been all through college, and he +doesn't do a thing except wear nice clothes and hang around and talk. +He says I'm a little chatter-box. I hate the sight of him." + +"If he doesn't like you, then I don't like him," said Philip, as if he +were making a general and not a personal assertion. "Oh, I should like +to travel." + +"So should I, and see things and find things. Jim says he's going to be +an explorer. He never will. He wouldn't find anything. He twits me, +and wants to know what is the good of my reading about Africa and such +things. Phil, don't you love to read about Africa, and the desert, and +the lions and the snakes, and bananas growing, and palm-trees, and the +queerest black men and women, real dwarfs some of them? I just love it." + +"So do I," said Philip, "as far as I have read. Alice says it's awful +dangerous--fevers and wild beasts and savages and all that. But I +shouldn't mind." + +"Of course you wouldn't. But it costs like everything to go to Africa, +or anywhere." + +"I'd make a book about it, and give lectures, and make lots of money." + +"I guess," said Celia, reflecting upon this proposition, "I'd be an +engineer or a railroad man, or something like that, and make a heap of +money, and then I could go anywhere I liked. I just hate to be poor. +There!" + +"Is Jim poor?" + +"No; he can do what he pleases. I asked him, then, why he didn't go to +Africa, and he wanted to know what was the good of finding Livingstone, +anyway. I'll bet Murad Ault would go to Africa." + +"I wish he would," said Philip; and then, having moved so that he could +see Celia's face, "Do you like Murad Ault?" + +"No," replied Celia, promptly; "he's horrid, but he isn't afraid of +anything." + +"Well, I don't care," said Philip, who was nettled by this implication. +And Celia, who had shown her power of irritating, took another tack. + +"You don't think I'd be seen going around with him? Aren't we having a +good time up here?" + +"Bully!" replied Philip. And not seeing the way to expand this topic +any further, he suddenly said: + +"Celia, the next time I go on our hill I'll get you lots of sassafras." + +"Oh, I love sassafras, and sweet-flag!" + +"We can get that on the way home. I know a place." And then there was a +pause. "Celia, you didn't tell me what you are going to do when you grow +up." + +"Go to college." + +"You? Why, girls do, don't they? I never thought of that." + +"Of course they do. I don't know whether I'll write or be a doctor. I +know one thing--I won't teach school. It's the hatefulest thing there +is! It's nice to be a doctor and have your own horse, and go round like +a man. If it wasn't for seeing so many sick people! +I guess I'll write stories and things." + +"So would I," Philip confessed, "if I knew any." + +"Why, you make 'em up. Mamma says they are all made up. I can make 'em +in my head any time when I'm alone." + +"I don't know," Philip said, reflectively, "but I could make up a story +about Murad Ault, and how he got to be a pirate and got in jail and was +hanged." + +"Oh, that wouldn't be a real story. You have got to have different +people in it, and have 'em talk, just as they do in books; and somebody +is in love and somebody dies, and the like of that." + +"Well, there are such stories in The Pirate's Own Book, and it's awful +interesting." + +"I'd be ashamed, Philip Burnett, to read such a cruel thing, all about +robbers and murders." + +"I didn't read it through; Alice said she was going to burn it up. I +shouldn't wonder if she did." + +"Boys make me tired!" exclaimed this little piece of presumption; and +this attitude of superiority exasperated Philip more than anything else +his mentor had said or done, and he asserted his years of seniority by +jumping up and saying, decidedly, "It's time to go home. Shall I carry +your wreath?" + +"No, I thank you!" replied Celia, with frigid politeness. + +"Down in the meadow," said Philip, making one more effort at +conciliation, "we can get some tigerlilies, and weave them in and make a +beautiful wreath for your mother." + +"She doesn't like things fussed up," was the gracious reply. And then +the children trudged along homeward, each with a distinct sense of +injury. + + + + +IV + +Traits that make a child disagreeable are apt to be perpetuated in the +adult. The bumptious, impudent, selfish, "hateful" boy may become a man +of force, of learning, of decided capacity, even of polish and good +manners, and score success, so that those who know him say how remarkable +it is that such a "knurly" lad should have turned out so well. But some +exigency in his career, it may be extraordinary prosperity or bitter +defeat, may at any moment reveal the radical traits of the boy, the +original ignoble nature. The world says that it is a "throwing back"; it +is probably only a persistence of the original meanness under all the +overlaid cultivation and restraint. + +Without bothering itself about the recondite problems of heredity or the +influence of environment, the world wisely makes great account of +"stock." The peasant nature, which may be a very different thing from +the peasant condition, persists, and shows itself in business affairs, in +literature, even in the artist. No marriage is wisely contracted without +consideration of "stock." The admirable qualities which make a union one +of mutual respect and enduring affection--the generosities, the +magnanimities, the courage of soul, the crystalline truthfulness, the +endurance of ill fortune and of prosperity--are commonly the persistence +of the character of the stock. + +We can get on with surface weaknesses and eccentricities, and even +disagreeable peculiarities, if the substratum of character is sound. +There is no woman or man so difficult--to get on with, whatever his or +her graces or accomplishments, as the one "you don't know where to find," +as the phrase is. Indeed, it has come to pass that the highest and final +eulogy ever given to a man, either in public or private life, is that he +is one "you can tie to." And when you find a woman of that sort you do +not need to explain to the cynical the wisdom of the Creator in making +the most attractive and fascinating sex. + +The traits, good and bad, persist; they may be veneered or restrained, +they are seldom eradicated. All the traits that made the great Napoleon +worshiped, hated, and feared existed in the little Bonaparte, as +perfectly as the pea-pod in the flower. The whole of the First Empire +was smirched with Corsican vulgarity. The world always reckons with +these radical influences that go to make up a family. One of the first +questions asked by an old politician, who knew his world thoroughly, +about any man becoming prominent, when there was a discussion of his +probable action, was, "Whom did he marry?" + +There are exceptions to this general rule, and they are always noticeable +when they occur--this deviation from the traits of the earliest years-- +and offer material fox some of the subtlest and most interesting studies +of the novelist. + +It was impossible for those who met Philip Burnett after he had left +college, and taken his degree in the law-school, and spent a year, more +or less studiously, in Europe, to really know him if they had not known +the dreaming boy in his early home, with all the limitations as well as +the vitalizing influences of his start in life. And on the contrary, the +error of the neighbors of a lad in forecasting his career comes from the +fact that they do not know him. The verdict about Philip would probably +have been that he was a very nice sort of a boy, but that he would never +"set the North River on fire." There was a headstrong, selfish, pushing +sort of boy, one of Philip's older schoolmates, who had become one of the +foremost merchants and operators in New York, and was already talked of +for mayor. This success was the sort that fulfilled the rural idea of +getting on in the world, whereas Philip's accomplishments, seen through +the veneer of conceit which they had occasioned him to take on, did not +commend themselves as anything worth while. Accomplishments rarely do +unless they are translated into visible position or into the currency of +the realm. How else can they be judged? Does not the great public +involuntarily respect the author rather for the sale of his books than +for the books themselves? + +The period of Philip's novitiate--those most important years from his +acquaintance with Celia Howard to the attainment of his professional +degree--was most interesting to him, but the story of it would not detain +the reader of exciting fiction. He had elected to use his little +patrimony in making himself instead of in making money--if merely +following his inclination could be called an election. If he had +reasoned about it he would have known that the few thousands of dollars +left to him from his father's estate, if judiciously invested in +business, would have grown to a good sum when he came of age, and he +would by that time have come into business habits, so that all he would +need to do would be to go on and make more money. If he had reasoned +more deeply he would have seen that by this process he would become a man +of comparatively few resources for the enjoyment of life, and a person of +very little interest to himself or to anybody else. So perhaps it was +just as well that he followed his instincts and postponed the making of +money until he had made himself, though he was to have a good many bitter +days when the possession of money seemed to him about the one thing +desirable. + +It was Celia, who had been his constant counselor and tormentor, about +the time when she was beginning to feel a little shy and long-legged, in +her short skirts, who had, in a romantic sympathy with his tastes, +opposed his going into a "store" as a clerk, which seemed to the boy at +one time an ideal situation for a young man. + +"A store, indeed!" cried the young lady; "pomatum on your hair, and a +grin on your face; snip, snip, snip, calico, ribbons, yard-stick; 'It's +very becoming, miss, that color; this is only a sample, only a remnant, +but I shall have a new stock in by Friday; anything else, ma'am, today?' +Sho! Philip, for a man!" + +Fortunately for Philip there lived in the village an old waif, a +scholarly oddity, uncommunicative, whose coming to dwell there had +excited much gossip before the inhabitants got used to his odd ways. + +Usually reticent and rough of speech--the children thought he was an old +bear--he was nevertheless discovered to be kindly and even charitable in +neighborhood emergencies, and the minister said he was about the most +learned man he ever knew. His history does not concern us, but he was +doubtless one of the men whose talents have failed to connect with +success in anything, who had had his bout with the world, and retired +into peaceful seclusion in an indulgence of a mild pessimism about the +world generally. + +He lived alone, except for the rather neutral presence of Aunt Hepsy, who +had formerly been a village tailoress, and whose cottage he had bought +with the proviso that the old woman should continue in it as "help." +With Aunt Hepsy he was no more communicative than with anybody else. "He +was always readin', when he wasn't goin' fishin' or off in the woods with +his gun, and never made no trouble, and was about the easiest man to get +along with she ever see. You mind your business and he'll mind his'n." +That was the sum of Aunt Hepsy's delivery about the recluse, though no +doubt her old age was enriched by constant "study" over his probable +history and character. But Aunt Hepsy, since she had given up tailoring, +was something of a recluse herself. + +The house was full of books, mostly queer books, "in languages nobody +knows what," as Aunt Hepsy said, which made Philip open his eyes when he +went there one day to take to the old man a memorandum-book which he had +found on Mill Brook. The recluse took a fancy to the ingenuous lad when +he saw he was interested in books, and perhaps had a mind not much more +practical than his own; the result was an acquaintance, and finally an +intimacy--at which the village wondered until it transpired that Philip +was studying with the old fellow, who was no doubt a poor shack of a +school-teacher in disguise. + +It was from this gruff friend that Philip learned Greek and Latin enough +to enable him to enter college, not enough drill and exact training in +either to give him a high stand, but an appreciation of the literatures +about which the old scholar was always enthusiastic. Philip regretted +all his life that he had not been severely drilled in the classics and +mathematics, for he never could become a specialist in anything. But +perhaps, even in this, fate was dealing with him according to his +capacities. And, indeed, he had a greater respect for the scholarship of +his wayside tutor than for the pedantic acquirements of many men he came +to know afterwards. It was from him that Philip learned about books and +how to look for what he wanted to know, and it was he who directed +Philip's taste to the best. When he went off to college the lad had not +a good preparation, but he knew a great deal that would not count in the +entrance examinations. + +"You will need all the tools you can get the use of, my boy, in the +struggle," was the advice of his mentor, "and the things you will need +most may be those you have thought least of. I never go fishing without +both fly and bait." + +Philip was always grateful that before he entered college he had a fine +reading knowledge of French, and that he knew enough German to read and +enjoy Heine's poems and prose, and that he had read, or read in, pretty +much all the English classics. + +He used to recall the remark of a lad about his own age, who was on a +vacation visit to Rivervale, and had just been prepared for college at +one of the famous schools. The boys liked each other and were much +together in the summer, and talked about what interested them during +their rambles, carrying the rod or the fowling-piece. Philip naturally +had most to say about the world he knew, which was the world of books-- +that is to say, the stored information that had accumulated in the world. +This more and more impressed the trained student, who one day exclaimed: + +"By George! I might have known something if I hadn't been kept at school +all my life." + +Philip's career in college could not have been called notable. He was +not one of the dozen stars in the class-room, but he had a reputation of +another sort. His classmates had a habit of resorting to him if they +wanted to "know anything" outside the text-books, for the range of his +information seemed to them encyclopaedic. On the other hand, he escaped +the reputation of what is called "a good fellow." He was not so much +unpopular as he was unknown in the college generally, but those who did +know him were tolerant of the fact that he cared more for reading than +for college sports or college politics. It must be confessed that he +added little to the reputation of the university, since his name was +never once mentioned in the public prints--search has been made since the +public came to know him as a writer--as a hero in any crew or team on any +game field. Perhaps it was a little selfish that his muscle developed in +the gymnasium was not put into advertising use for the university. The +excuse was that he had not time to become an athlete, any more than he +had time to spend three years in the discipline of the regular army, +which was in itself an excellent thing. + +Celia, in one of her letters--it was during her first year at a woman's +college, when the development of muscle in gymnastics, running, and the +vigorous game of ball was largely engaging the attention of this +enthusiastic young lady--took him to task for his inactivity. "This is +the age of muscle," she wrote; "the brain is useless in a flabby body, +and probably the brain itself is nothing but concentrated intelligent +muscle. I don't know how men are coming out, but women will never get +the position they have the right to occupy until they are physically the +equals of men." + +Philip had replied, banteringly, that if that were so he had no desire to +enter in a physical competition with women, and that men had better look +out for another field. + +But later on, when Celia had got into the swing of the classics, and was +training for a part in the play of "Antigone," she wrote in a different +strain, though she would have denied that the change had any relation to +the fact that she had strained her back in a rowing-match. She did not +apologize for her former advice, but she was all aglow about the Greek +drama, and made reference to Aspasia as an intellectual type of what +women might become. "I didn't ever tell you how envious I used to be +when you were studying Greek with that old codger in Rivervale, and could +talk about Athens and all that. Next time we meet, I can tell you, it +will be Greek meets Greek. I do hope you have not dropped the classics +and gone in for the modern notion of being real and practical. If I ever +hear of your writing 'real' poetry--it is supposed to be real if it is in +dialect or misspelled! never will write you again, much less speak to +you." + +Whatever this decided young woman was doing at the time she was sure was +the best for everybody to do, and especially for Master Phil. + +Now that the days of preparation were over, and Philip found himself in +New York, face to face with the fact that he had nowhere to look for +money to meet the expense of rent, board, and clothes except to his own +daily labor, and that there was another economy besides that which he had +practiced as to luxuries, there were doubtless hours when his faith +wavered a little in the wisdom of the decision that had invested all his +patrimony in himself. He had been fortunate, to be sure, in securing a +clerk's desk in the great law-office of Hunt, Sharp & Tweedle, and he had +the kindly encouragement of the firm that, with close application to +business, he would make his way. But even in this he had his misgivings, +for a great part of his acquirements, and those he most valued, did not +seem to be of any use in his office-work. He had a lofty conception of +his chosen profession, as the right arm in the administration of justice +between man and man. In practice, however, it seemed to him that the +object was to win a case rather than to do justice in a case. +Unfortunately, also, he had cultivated his imagination to the extent that +he could see both sides of a case. To see both sides is indeed the +requisite of a great lawyer, but to see the opposite side only in order +to win, as in looking over an opponent's hand in a game of cards. It +seemed to Philip that this clear perception would paralyze his efforts +for one side if he knew it was the wrong side. The argument was that +every cause a man's claim or his defense--ought to be presented in its +fullness and urged with all the advocate's ingenuity, and that the +decision was in the bosom of an immaculate justice on the bench and the +unbiased intelligence in the jury-box. This might be so. But Philip +wondered what would be the effect on his own character and on his +intellect if he indulged much in the habit of making the worse appear the +better cause, and taking up indifferently any side that paid. For +himself, he was inclined always to advise clients to "settle," and he +fancied that if the occupation of the lawyer was to explain the case to +people ignorant of it, and to champion only the right side, as it +appeared to an unprejudiced, legally trained mind, and to compose instead +of encouraging differences, the law would indeed be a noble profession, +and the natural misunderstandings, ignorance, and different points of +view would make business enough. + +"Stuff!" said Mr. Sharp. "If you begin by declining causes you +disapprove of, the public will end by letting you alone in your self- +conceited squeamishness. It's human nature you've got to deal with, +not theories about law and justice. I tell you that men like litigation. +They want to have it out with somebody. And it is better than +fisticuffs." + +From Mr. Hunt, who moved in the serener upper currents of the law, Philip +got more satisfaction. + +"Of course, Mr. Burnett, there are miserable squabbles in the law +practice, and contemptible pettifoggers and knaves, and men who will sell +themselves for any dirty work, as there are in most professions and +occupations, but the profession could not exist for a day if it was not +on the whole on the side of law and order and justice. + +"No doubt it needs from time to time criticism and reformation. +So does the church. You look at the characters of the really great +lawyers! And there is another thing. In dealing with the cases of our +complex life, there is no accomplishment, no learning in science, art, or +literature, that the successful practitioner will not find it very +advantageous to possess. And a lawyer will never be eminent who has not +imagination." + +Philip thought he had a very good chance of exercising his imagination in +the sky chamber where he slept--a capital situation from which to observe +the world. There could not have been an uglier view created--a shapeless +mass of brick and stone and painted wood, a collected, towering +monstrosity of rectangular and inharmonious lines, a realized dream of +hideousness--but for the splendid sky, always changing and doing all that +was possible in the gleams and shadows and the glowing colors of morning +and evening to soften the ambitious work of man; but for the wide +horizon, with patches of green shores and verdant flats washed by the +kindly tide; but for the Highlands and Staten Island, the gateway to the +ocean; but for the great river and the mighty bay shimmering and +twinkling and often iridescent, and the animated life of sails and +steamers, the leviathans of commerce and the playthings of pleasure, and +the beetle-like, monstrous ferry-boats that pushed their noses through +all the confusion, like intelligent, business-like saurians that knew how +to keep an appointed line by a clumsy courtesy of apparent yielding. +Yes, there was life enough in all this, and inspiration, if one only knew +what to be inspired about. + +When Philip came home from the office at sunset, through the bustling +streets, and climbed up to his perch, he insensibly brought with him +something of the restless energy and strife of the city, and in this mood +the prospect before him took on a certain significance of great things +accomplished, of the highest form of human energy and achievement; he was +a part of this exuberant, abundant life, to succeed in the struggle +seemed easy, and for the moment he possessed what he saw. + +The little room had space enough for a cot bed, a toilet-stand, +a couple of easy-chairs--an easy-chair is the one article of furniture +absolutely necessary to a reflecting student--some well-filled +book-shelves, a small writing-desk, and a tiny closet quite large enough +for a wardrobe which seemed to have no disposition to grow. Except for +the books and the writing-desk, with its heterogeneous manuscripts, +unfinished or rejected, there was not much in the room to indicate the +taste of its occupant, unless you knew that his taste was exhibited +rather by what he excluded from the room than by what it contained. It +must be confessed that, when Philip was alone with his books and his +manuscripts, his imagination did not expand in the directions that would +have seemed profitable to the head of his firm. That life of the town +which was roaring in his ears, that panorama of prosperity spread before +him, related themselves in his mind not so much as incitements to engage +in the quarrels of his profession as something demanding study and +interpretation, something much more human than processes and briefs and +arguments. And it was a dark omen for his success that the world +interested him much more for itself than for what he could make out of +it. Make something to be sure he must--so long as he was only a law +clerk on a meagre salary--and it was this necessity that had much to do +with the production of the manuscripts. It was a joke on Philip in his +club--by-the-way, the half-yearly dues were not far off--that he was +doing splendidly in the law; he already had an extensive practice in +chambers! + +The law is said to be a jealous mistress, but literature is a young lady +who likes to be loved for herself alone, and thinks permission to adore +is sufficient reward for her votary. Common-sense told Philip that the +jealous mistress would flout him and land him in failure if he gave her a +half-hearted service; but the other young lady, the Helen of the +professions, was always beckoning him and alluring him by the most subtle +arts, occupying all his hours with meditations on her grace and beauty, +till it seemed the world were well lost for her smile. And the +fascinating jade never hinted that devotion to her brought more drudgery +and harassment and pain than any other service in the world. It would +not have mattered if she had been frank, and told him that her promise of +eternal life was illusory and her rewards commonly but a flattering of +vanity. There was no resisting her enchantments, and he would rather +follow her through a world of sin and suffering, pursuing her radiant +form over bog and moor, in penury and heartache, for one sunrise smile +and one glimpse of her sunset heaven, than to walk at ease with a +commonplace maiden on any illumined and well-trod highway. + + + + +V + +It is the desire of every ambitious soul to, enter Literature by the +front door, and the few who have patience and money enough to live +without the aid of the beckoning Helen may enter there. But a side +entrance is the destiny of most aspirants, even those with the golden key +of genius, and they are a long time in working their way to be seen +coming out, of the front entrance. It is true that a man can attract +considerable and immediate attention by trying to effect an entrance +through the sewer, but he seldom gains the respect of the public whom he +interests, any more than an exhibitor of fireworks gains the reputation +of an artist that is accorded to the painter of a good picture. + +Philip was waiting at the front door, with his essays and his prose +symphonies and his satirical novel--the satire of a young man is apt to +be very bitter--but it was as tightly shut against him as if a publisher +and not the muse of literature kept the door. + +There was a fellow-boarder with Philip, whose acquaintance he had made at +the common table in the basement, who appeared to be free of the world of +letters and art. He was an alert, compact, neatly dressed little fellow, +who had apparently improved every one of his twenty-eight years in the +study of life, in gaining assurance and confidence in himself, and also +presented himself as one who knew the nether world completely but was not +of it. He would have said of himself that he knew it profoundly, that he +frequented it for "material," but that his home was in another sphere. +The impression was that he belonged among those brilliant guerrillas of +both sexes, in the border-land of art and society, who lived daintily and +talked about life with unconventional freedom. Slight in figure, with +very black hair, and eyes of cloudy gray, an olive complexion, and +features trained to an immobility proof against emotion or surprise, the +whole poised as we would say in the act of being gentlemanly, it is +needless to say that he took himself seriously. His readiness, self- +confidence, cocksureness, Philip thought all expressed in his name--Olin +Brad. + +Mr. Brad was not a Bohemian--that is, not at all a Bohemian of the +recognized type. His fashionable dress, closely trimmed hair, and dainty +boots took him out of that class. He belonged to the new order, which +seems to have come in with modern journalism--that is, Bohemian in +principle, but of the manners and apparel of the favored of fortune. Mr. +Brad was undoubtedly clever, and was down as a bright young man in the +list of those who employed talent which was not dulled by conscientious +scruples. He had stood well in college, during three years in Europe he +had picked up two or three languages, dissipated his remaining small +fortune, acquired expensive tastes, and knowledge, both esoteric and +exoteric, that was valuable to him in his present occupation. Returning +home fully equipped for a modern literary career, and finding after some +bitter experience that his accomplishments were not taken or paid for at +their real value by the caterers for intellectual New York, he had +dropped into congenial society on the staff of the Daily Spectrum, a +mighty engine of public opinion, which scattered about the city and +adjacent territory a million of copies, as prodigally as if they had been +auctioneers' announcements. Fastidious people who did not read it gave +it a bad name, not recognizing the classic and heroic attitude of those +engaged in pitchforking up and turning over the muck of the Augean +stables under the pretense of cleaning them. + +Mr. Brad had a Socratic contempt for this sort of fault-finding. It was +answer enough to say, "It pays. The people like it or they wouldn't buy +it. It commands the best talent in the market and can afford to pay for +it; even clergymen like to appear in its columns--they say it's a +providential chance to reach the masses. And look at the "Morning GooGoo" +(this was his nickname for one of the older dailies), "it couldn't pay +its paper bills if it hadn't such a small circulation." + +Mr. Brad, however, was not one of the editors, though the acceptance of +an occasional short editorial, sufficiently piquant and impudent and +vivid in language--to suit, had given him hopes. He was salaried, but +under orders for special service, and was always in the hope that the +execution of each new assignment would bring him into popular notice, +which would mean an advance of position and pay. + +Philip was impressed with the ready talent, the adaptable talent, and the +facility of this accomplished journalist, and as their acquaintance +improved he was let into many of the secrets of success in the +profession. + +"It isn't an easy thing," said Mr. Brad, "to cater to a public that gets +tired of anything in about three days. But it is just as well satisfied +with a contradiction as with the original statement. It calls both news. +You have to watch out and see what the people want, and give it to 'em. +It is something like the purveying of the manufacturers and the dry-goods +jobber for the changing trade in fashions; only the newspaper has the +advantage that it can turn a somersault every day and not have any +useless stock left on hand. + +"The public hasn't any memory, or, if it has, this whirligig process +destroys it. What it will not submit to is the lack of a daily surprise. +Keep that in your mind and you can make a popular newspaper. Only," +continued Mr. Brad, reflectively, "you've got to hit a lot of different +tastes." + +"You'd laugh," this artist in emotions went on, after a little pause, "at +some of my assignments. There was a run awhile ago on elopements, and my +assignment was to have one every Monday morning. The girl must always be +lovely and refined and moving in the best society; elopement with the +coachman preferred, varied with a teacher in a Sunday-school. Invented? +Not always. It was surprising how many you could find ready made, if you +were on the watch. I got into the habit of locating them in the interior +of Pennsylvania as the safest place, though Jersey seemed equally +probable to the public. Did I never get caught? That made it all the +more lively and interesting. Denials, affidavits, elaborate +explanations, two sides to any question; if it was too hot, I could +change the name and shift the scene to a still more obscure town. Or it +could be laid to the zeal of a local reporter, who could give the most +ingenious reasons for his story. Once I worked one of those imaginary +reporters up into such prominence for his clever astuteness that my boss +was taken in, and asked me to send for him and give him a show on the +paper. + +"Oh, yes, we have to keep up the domestic side. A paper will not go +unless the women like it. One of the assignments I liked was 'Sayings of +Our Little Ones.' This was for every Tuesday morning. Not more than +half a column. These always got copied by the country press solid. It +is really surprising how many bright things you can make children of five +and six years say if you give your mind to it. The boss said that I +overdid it sometimes and made them too bright instead of 'just cunning.' + +"'Psychological Study of Children' had a great run. This is the age of +science. Same with animals, astronomy--anything. If the public wants +science, the papers will give it science. + +"After all, the best hold for a lasting sensation is an attack upon some +charity or public institution; show up the abuses, and get all the +sentimentalists on your side. The paper gets sympathy for its +fearlessness in serving the public interests. It is always easy to find +plenty of testimony from ill-used convicts and grumbling pensioners." + +Undoubtedly Olin Brad was a clever fellow, uncommonly well read in the +surface literatures of foreign origin, and had a keen interest in what he +called the metaphysics of his own time. He had many good qualities, +among them friendliness towards men and women struggling like himself to +get up the ladder, and he laid aside all jealousy when he advised Philip +to try his hand at some practical work on the Spectrum. What puzzled +Philip was that this fabricator of "stories" for the newspaper should +call himself a "realist." The "story," it need hardly be explained, is +newspaper slang for any incident, true or invented, that is worked up for +dramatic effect. To state the plain facts as they occurred, or might +have occurred, and as they could actually be seen by a competent +observer, would not make a story. The writer must put in color, and +idealize the scene and the people engaged in it, he must invent dramatic +circumstances and positions and language, so as to produce a "picture." +And this picture, embroidered on a commonplace incident, has got the name +of "news." The thread of fact in this glittering web the reader must +pick out by his own wits, assisted by his memory of what things usually +are. And the public likes these stories much better than the unadorned +report of facts. It is accustomed to this view of life, so much so that +it fancies it never knew what war was, or what a battle was, until the +novelists began to report them. + +Mr. Brad was in the story stage of his evolution as a writer. His light +facility in it had its attraction for Philip, but down deep in his nature +he felt and the impression was deepened by watching the career of several +bright young men and women on the press--that indulgence in it would +result in such intellectual dishonesty as to destroy the power of +producing fiction that should be true to life. He was so impressed by +the ability and manifold accomplishments of Mr. Brad that he thought it a +pity for him to travel that road, and one day he asked him why he did not +go in for literature. + +"Literature!" exclaimed Mr. Brad, with some irritation; "I starved on +literature for a year. Who does live on it, till he gets beyond the +necessity of depending on it? There is a lot of humbug talked about it. +You can't do anything till you get your name up. Some day I will make a +hit, and everybody will ask, 'Who is this daring, clever Olin Brad?' +Then I can get readers for anything I choose to write. Look at Champ +Lawson. He can't write correct English, he never will, he uses +picturesque words in a connection that makes you doubt if he knows what +they mean. But he did a dare-devil thing picturesquely, and now the +publishers are at his feet. When I met him the other day he affected to +be bored with so much attention, and wished he had stuck to the livery- +stable. He began at seventeen by reporting a runaway from the point of +view of the hostler." + +"Well," said Philip, "isn't it quite in the line of the new movement that +we should have an introspective hostler, who perhaps obeys Sir Philip +Sidney's advice, 'Look into your heart and write'? I chanced the other +night in a company of the unconventional and illuminated, the 'poster' +set in literature and art, wild-eyed and anaemic young women and +intensely languid, 'nil admirari' young men, the most advanced products +of the studios and of journalism. It was a very interesting conclave. +Its declared motto was, 'We don't read, we write.' And the members were +on a constant strain to say something brilliant, epigrammatic, original. +The person who produced the most outre sentiment was called 'strong.' +The women especially liked no writing that was not 'strong.' The +strongest man in the company, and adored by the women, was the poet- +artist Courci Cleves, who always seems to have walked straight out of a +fashion-plate, much deferred to in this set, which affects to defer to +nothing, and a thing of beauty in the theatre lobbies. Mr. Cleves gained +much applause for his well-considered wish that all that has been written +in the world, all books and libraries, could be destroyed, so as to give +a chance to the new men and the fresh ideas of the new era." + +"My dear sir," said Brad, who did not like this caricature of his +friends, "you don't make any allowance for the eccentricities of genius." + +"You would hit it nearer if you said I didn't make allowance for the +eccentricities without genius," retorted Philip. + +"Well," replied Mr. Brad, taking his leave, "you don't understand your +world. You go your own way and see where you will come out." + +And when Philip reflected on it, he wondered if it were not rash to +offend those who had the public ear, and did up the personals and minor +criticisms for the current prints. He was evidently out of view. No +magazine paper of his had gained the slightest notice from these +sublimated beings, who discovered a new genius every month. + +A few nights after this conversation Mr. Brad was in uncommon spirits at +dinner. + +"Anything special turned up?" asked Philip. + +"Oh, nothing much. I've thrown away the chance of the biggest kind of a +novel of American life. Only it wouldn't keep. You look in the Spectrum +tomorrow morning. You'll see something interesting." + +"Is it a--" and Philip's incredulous expression supplied the word. + +"No, not a bit. And the public is going to be deceived this time, sure, +expecting a fake. You know Mavick?" + +"I've heard of him--the operator, a millionaire." + +"A good many times. Used to be minister or consul or something at Rome. +A great swell. It's about his daughter, Evelyn, a stunning girl about +sixteen or seventeen--not out yet." + +"I hope it's no scandal." + +"No, no; she's all right. It's the way she's brought up--shows what +we've come to. They say she's the biggest heiress in America and a +raving beauty, the only child. She has been brought up like the +Kohinoor, never out of somebody's sight. She has never been alone one +minute since she was born. Had three nurses, and it was the business of +one of them, in turn, to keep an eye on her. Just think of that. Never +was out of the sight of somebody in her life. Has two maids now--always +one in the room, night and day." + +"What for?" + +"Why, the parents are afraid she'll be kidnapped, and held for a big +ransom. No, I never saw her, but I've got the thing down to a dot. +Wouldn't I like to interview her, though, get her story, how the world +looks to her. Under surveillance for sixteen years! The 'Prisoner of +Chillon' is nothing to it for romance." + +"Just the facts are enough, I should say." + +"Yes, facts make a good basis, sometimes. I've got 'em all in, but of +course I've worked the thing up for all it is worth. You'll see. +I kept it one day to try and get a photograph. We've got the house and +Mavick, but the girl's can't be found, and it isn't safe to wait. We are +going to blow it out tomorrow morning." + + + + +VI + +The Mavick mansion was on Fifth Avenue in the neighborhood of Central +Park. It was one of the buildings in the city that strangers were always +taken to see. In fact, this was a palace not one kind of a palace, but +all kinds of a palace. The clever and ambitious architect of the house +had grouped all the styles of architecture he had ever seen, or of which +he had seen pictures. Here was not an architectural conception, like a +sonnet or a well-constructed novel, but if all the work could have been +spread out in line, in all its variety, there would have been produced a +panorama. The sight of the mansion always caused wonder and generally +ignorant admiration. Its vastness and splendor were felt to be somehow +typical of the New World and of the cosmopolitan city. + +The cost, in the eyes of the spectators, was a great part of its merits. +No doubt this was a fabulous sum. "You can form a little idea of it," +said a gentleman to his country friend, "when I tell you that that little +bit there, that little corner of carving and decoration, cost two hundred +thousand dollars! I had this from the architect himself." + +"My!" + +The interior was as fully representative of wealth and of the ambition to +put under one roof all the notable effects of all the palaces in the +world. But it had, what most palaces have not, all the requisites for +luxurious living. The variety of styles in the rooms was bewildering. +Artists of distinction, both foreign and native, had vied with each other +in the decoration of the rooms given over to the display of their genius. +All paganism and all Christianity, history, myth, and the beauties of +nature were spread upon the walls and ceilings. Rare woods, rare +marbles, splendid textures, the product of ancient handiwork and modern +looms, added a certain dignity to the more airy creations of the artists. +Many of the rooms were named from the nations whose styles of decoration +and furnishing were imitated in them, but others had the simple +designation of the gold room, the silver room, the lapis-lazuli room, and +so on. It was not only the show-rooms, the halls, passages, stairways, +and galleries (both of pictures and of curios) that were thus enriched, +but the boudoirs, retiring-rooms, and more private apartments as well. +It was not simply a house of luxury, but of all the comfort that modern +invention can furnish. It was said that the money lavished upon one or +two of the noble apartments would have built a State-house (though not at +Albany), and that the fireplace in the great hall cost as much as an +imitation mediaeval church. These were the things talked about, and yet +the portions of this noble edifice, rich as they were, habitually +occupied by the family had another character--the attractions and +conveniences of what we call a home. Mrs. Mavick used to say that in her +apartments she found refuge in a sublimated domesticity. Mavick's own +quarters--not the study off the library where he received visitors whom +it was necessary to impress--had an executive appearance, and were, in +the necessary appliances, more like the interior bureau of a board of +trade. In fact, the witty brokers who were admitted to its mysteries +called it the bucket-shop. + +Mr. Brad's article on "A Prisoned Millionaire" more than equaled Philip's +expectations. No such "story" had appeared in the city press in a long +time. It was what was called, in the language of the period, a work of +art--that is, a sensation, heightened by all the words of color in the +language, applied not only to material things, but to states and +qualities of mind, such as "purple emotions" and "scarlet intrepidity." +It was also exceedingly complimentary. Mavick himself was one of the +powers and pillars of American society, and the girl was an exquisite +exhibition of woodland bloom in the first flush of spring-time. As he +read it over, Philip thought what a fine advertisement it is to every +impecunious noble in Europe + +That morning, before going to his office, Philip strolled up Fifth Avenue +to look at that now doubly, famous mansion. Many others, it appeared, +were moved by the same curiosity. There was already a crowd assembled. +A couple of policemen, on special duty, patrolled the sidewalk in front +in order to keep a passage open, and perhaps to prevent a too impudent +inspection. Opposite the house, on the sidewalk and on door-steps, was a +motley throng, largely made up of toughs and roughs from the East Side, +good-natured spectators who merely wanted to see this splendid prison, +and a moving line of gentlemen and ladies who simply happened to be +passing that way at this time. The curbstone was lined with a score of +reporters of the city journals, each with his note-book. Every window +and entrance was eagerly watched. It was hoped that one of the family +might be seen, or that some servant might appear who could be +interviewed. Upon the windows supposed by the reporters to be those from +which the heiress looked, a strict watch was kept. The number, form, and +location of these windows were accurately noted, the stuff of the +curtains described in the phrase of the upholsterer, and much good +language was devoted to the view from these windows. The shrewdest of +the reporters had already sought information as to the interior from the +flower dealers, from upholsterers, from artists who had been employed in +the decorations, and had even assailed, in the name of the rights of the +public whom they represented, the architects of the building; but their +chief reliance was upon the waiters furnished by the leading caterers on +occasions of special receptions and great dinners, and milliners and +dress-makers, who had penetrated the more domestic apartments. By reason +of this extraordinary article in the newspaper, the public had acquired +the right to know all about the private life of the Mavick family. + +This right was not acknowledged by Mr. Mavick and his family. Of course +the object of the excitement was wholly ignorant of the cause of it, as +no daily newspaper was ever seen by her that had not been carefully +inspected by the trusted and intelligent governess. The crowd in front +of the mansion was accounted for by the statement that a picture of it +had appeared in one of the low journals, and there was naturally a +curiosity to see it. And Evelyn was told that this was one of the +penalties a man paid for being popular. + +Mrs. Mavick, who seldom lost her head, was thoroughly frightened and +upset, and it was a rare occasion that could upset the equanimity of the +late widow, Mrs. Carmen Henderson. She gave way to her passion and +demanded that the offending editor should be pursued with the utmost +rigor of the law. Mr. Mavick was not less annoyed and angry, but he +smiled when his wife talked of pursuing the press with the utmost rigor +of the law, and said that he would give the matter prompt attention. +That day he had an interview with the editor of the Daily Spectrum; which +was satisfactory to both parties. The editor would have said that Mavick +behaved like a gentleman. The result of the interview appeared in the +newspaper of the following morning. + +Mr. Mavick had requested that the offending reporter should be cautioned; +he was too wise to have further attention called to the matter by +demanding his dismissal. Accordingly the reporter was severely +reprimanded, and then promoted. + +The editorial, which was written by Mr. Olin Brad, and was in his best +Macaulay style, began somewhat humorously by alluding to the curious +interest of the public in ancient history, citing Mr. Froude and Mr. +Carlyle, and the legend of Casper Hauser. It was true, gradually +approaching the case in point, that uncommon precautions had been taken +in the early years of the American heiress, and it was the romance of the +situation that had been laid before the readers of the Spectrum. But +there had been really no danger in our chivalrous, free American society, +and all these precautions were long a thing of the past (which was not +true). In short, with elaboration and great skill, and some humor, the +exaggerations of the former article were minimized, and put in an airy +and unsubstantial light. And then this friend of the people, this +exposer of abuses and champion of virtue, turned and justly scored the +sensational press for prying into the present life of one of the first +families in the country. + +Incidentally, it was mentioned that the ladies of the family had before +this incident bespoken their passage for their annual visit to Europe, +and that this affair had not disturbed their arrangements (which also was +not true). This casual announcement was intended to draw away attention +from the Fifth Avenue house, and to notify the roughs that it would be +useless to lay any plans. + +The country press, which had far and wide printed the interesting story, +softened it in accordance with the later development. Possibly no +intelligent person was deceived, but in the estimation of the mass of the +people the Spectrum increased its reputation for enterprise and smartness +and gave also an impression of its fairness. The manager, told Mr. Brad +that the increased sales of the two days permitted the establishment to +give him a vacation of two weeks on full pay, and during these weeks the +manager himself set up a neat and modest brougham. + +All of which events, only partially understood, Mr. Philip Burnett +revolved in his mind, and wondered if what was called success was worth +the price paid for it. + + + + +VII + +The name of Thomas Mavick has lost the prominence and significance it had +at the time the events recorded in this history were taking place. It +seems incredible that the public should so soon have lost interest in +him. His position in the country was most conspicuous. No name was more +frequently in the newspapers. No other person not in official life was +so often interviewed. The reporters instinctively turned to him for +information in matters financial, concerning deals, and commercial, which +were so commonly connected with political, enterprises. No loan was +negotiated without consulting him, no operation was considered safe +without knowing how he was affected towards it, and to ascertain what +Mavick was doing or thinking was a constant anxiety in the Street. Of +course the opinion of a man so powerful was very important in politics, +and any church or sect would be glad to have his support. The fact that +he and his family worshiped regularly at St. Agnes's was a guarantee of +the stability of that church, and incidentally marked the success of the +Christian religion in the metropolis. + +But the condition of the presence in the public mind of the name of a +great operator and accumulator of money who is merely that is either that +he go on accumulating, so that the magnitude of his wealth has few if any +rivals, or that his name become synonymous with some gigantic cleverness, +if not rascality, so that it is used as an adjective after he and his +wealth have disappeared from the public view. It is different with the +reputation of an equally great financier who has used his ability for the +service of his country. There is no Valhalla for the mere accumulators +of money. They are fortunate if their names are forgotten, and not +remembered as illustrations of colossal selfishness. + +Mavick may have been the ideal of many a self-made man, but he did not +make his fortune--he married it. And it was suspected that the +circumstances attending that marriage put him in complete control of it. +He came into possession, however, with cultivated shrewdness and tact and +large knowledge of the world, the world of diplomacy as well as of +business. And under his manipulation the vast fortune so acquired was +reported to have been doubled. It was at any rate almost fabulous in the +public estimation. + +When the charming widow of the late Rodney Henderson, then sojourning in +Rome, placed her attractive self and her still more attractive fortune in +the hands of Mr. Thomas Mavick, United States Minister to the Court of +Italy, she attained a position in the social world which was in accord +with her ambition, and Mavick acquired the means of making the mission, +in point of comparison with the missions of the other powers at the +Italian capital, a credit to the Great Republic. The match was therefore +a brilliant one, and had a sort of national importance. + +Those who knew Mrs. Mavick in the remote past, when she was the +fascinating and not definitely placed Carmen Eschelle, and who also knew +Mr. Mavick when he was the confidential agent of Rodney Henderson, knew +that their union was a convenient and material alliance, in which the +desire of each party to enjoy in freedom all the pleasures of the world +could be gratified while retaining the social consideration of the world. +Both had always been circumspect. And it may be added, for the +information of strangers, that they thoroughly knew each other, and were +participants in a knowledge that put each at disadvantage, so that their +wedded life was a permanent truce. This bond of union was not ideal, and +not the best for the creation of individual character, but it avoided an +exhibition of those public antagonisms which so grieve and disturb the +even flow of the current of society, and give occasion to so much witty +comment on the institution of marriage itself. + +When, some two years after Mr. Mavick relinquished the mission to Italy +to another statesman who had done some service to the opposite party, an +heiress was born to the house of Mavick, her appearance in the world +occasioned some disappointment to those who had caused it. Mavick +naturally wished a son to inherit his name and enlarge the gold +foundation upon which its perpetuity must rest; and Mrs. Mavick as +naturally shrank from a responsibility that promised to curtail freedom +of action in the life she loved. Carmen--it was an old saying of the +danglers in the time of Henderson--was a domestic woman except in her own +home. + +However, it is one of the privileges of wealth to lighten the cares and +duties of maternity, and the enlarged household was arranged upon a basis +that did not interfere with the life of fashion and the charitable +engagements of the mother. Indeed, this adaptable woman soon found that +she had become an object of more than usual interest, by her latest +exploit, in the circles in which she moved, and her softened manner and +edifying conversation showed that she appreciated her position. Even the +McTavishes, who were inclined to be skeptical, said that Carmen was +delightful in her new role. This showed that the information Mrs. Mavick +got from the women who took care of her baby was of a kind to touch the +hearts of mothers and spinsters. + +Moreover, the child was very pretty, and early had winning ways. +The nurse, before the baby was a year old, discovered in her the +cleverness of the father and the grace and fascination of the mother. +And it must be said that, if she did not excite passionate affection at +first, she enlisted paternal and maternal pride in her career. +It dawned upon both parents that a daughter might give less cause for +anxiety than a son, and that in an heiress there were possibilities of an +alliance that would give great social distinction. Considering, +therefore, all that she represented, and the settled conviction of Mrs. +Mavick that she would be the sole inheritor of the fortune, her safety +and education became objects of the greatest anxiety and precaution. + +It happened that about the time Evelyn was christened there was a sort of +epidemic of stealing children, and of attempts to rob tombs of occupants +who had died rich or distinguished, in the expectation of a ransom. The +newspapers often chronicled mysterious disappearances; parents whose +names were conspicuous suffered great anxiety, and extraordinary +precautions were taken in regard to the tombs of public men. And this +was the reason that the heiress of the house of Mavick became the object +of a watchful vigilance that was probably never before exercised in a +republic, and that could only be paralleled in the case of a sole heir- +apparent of royalty. + +These circumstances resulted in an interference with the laws of nature +which it must be confessed destroyed one of the most interesting studies +in heredity that was ever offered to an historian of social life. What +sort of a child had we a right to expect from Thomas Mavick, diplomatist +and operator, successor to the rights and wrongs of Rodney Henderson, and +Carmen Mavick, with the past of Carmen Eschelle and Mrs. Henderson? +Those who adhered to the strictest application of heredity, in +considering the natural development of Evelyn Mavick, sought refuge in +the physiological problem of the influence of Rodney Henderson, and +declared that something of his New England sturdiness and fundamental +veracity had been imparted to the inheritor of his great fortune. + +But the visible interference took the form of Ann McDonald, a Scotch +spinster, to whom was intrusted the care of Evelyn as soon as she was +christened. It was merely a piece of good fortune that brought a person +of the qualifications of Ann McDonald into the family, for it is not to +be supposed that Mrs. Mavick had given any thought to the truth that the +important education of a child begins in its cradle, +or that in selecting a care-taker and companion who should later on be a +governess she was consulting her own desire of freedom from the duties of +a mother. It was enough for her that the applicant for the position had +the highest recommendations, that she was prepossessing in appearance, +and it was soon perceived that the guardian was truthful, faithful, +vigilant, and of an affectionate disposition and an innate refinement. + +Ann McDonald was the only daughter of a clergyman of the Scotch Church, +and brought up in the literary atmosphere common in the most cultivated +Edinburgh homes. She had been accurately educated, and always with the +knowledge that her education might be her capital in life. After the +death of her mother, when she was nineteen, she had been her father's +housekeeper, and when in her twenty-fourth year her father relinquished +his life and his salary, she decided, under the advice of influential +friends, to try her fortune in America. And she never doubted that it +was a providential guidance that brought her into intimate relations with +the infant heiress. It seemed probable that a woman so attractive and so +solidly accomplished would not very long remain a governess, but in fact +her career was chosen from the moment she became interested in the +development of the mind and character of the child intrusted to her care. +It is difficult to see how our modern life would go on as well as it does +if there were not in our homes a good many such faithful souls. It +sometimes seems, in this shifting world, that about the best any of us +can do is to prepare some one else for doing something well. + +Miss McDonald had a pretty comprehensive knowledge of English literature +and history, and, better perhaps than mere knowledge, a discriminating +and cultivated taste. If her religious education had twisted her view +of the fine arts, she had nevertheless a natural sympathy for the +beautiful, and she would not have been a Scotchwoman if she had not had +a love for the romances of her native land and at heart a "ballad" +sentiment for the cavaliers. If Evelyn had been educated by her +in Edinburgh, she might have been in sentiment a young Jacobite. She had +through translations a sufficient knowledge of the classics to give her +the necessary literary background, and her study of Latin had led her +into the more useful acquisition of French. + +If she had been free to indulge her own taste, she would have gone far in +natural history, as was evident from her mastery of botany and her +interest in birds. + +She inspired so much confidence by her good sense, clear-headedness, and +discretion, that almost from the first Evelyn was confided to her sole +care, with only the direction that the baby was never for an instant, +night or day, to be left out of the sight of a trusty attendant. The +nurse was absolutely under her orders, she selected the two maids, and no +person except the parents and the governess could admit visitors to the +nursery. This perfect organization was maintained for many years, and +though it came to be relaxed in details, it was literally true that the +heiress was never alone, and never out of the sight of some trusted +person responsible for her safety. But whatever the changes or +relaxation, in holidays, amusements, travel, or education, the person who +formed her mind was the one who had taught her to obey, to put words +together into language, and to speak the truth, from infancy. + +It is not necessary to consider Ann McDonald as a paragon. She was +simply an intelligent, disciplined woman, with a strong sense of duty. +If she had married and gone about the ordinary duties of life at the age +of twenty-four, she would probably have been in no marked way +distinguished among women. Her own development was largely due to the +responsibility that was put upon her in the training of another person. +In this sense it was true that she had learned as much as she had +imparted. And in nothing was this more evident than in the range of her +literary taste and judgment. Whatever risks, whatever latitude she might +have been disposed to take with regard to her own mind, she would not +take as to the mind of another, and as a consequence her own standards +rose to meet the situation. That is to say, in a conscientious selection +of only the best for Evelyn, she became more fastidious as to the food +for her own mind. Or, to put it in still another way, in regard to +character and culture generally, the growth of Miss McDonald could be +measured by that of Evelyn. + +When, from the time Evelyn was seven years old, it became necessary in +her education to call in special tutors in the languages and in +mathematics, and in certain arts that are generally called +accomplishments, Miss McDonald was always present when the +lessons were given, so that she maintained her ascendency and her +influence in the girl's mind. It was this inseparable companionship, at +least in all affairs of the mind, that gave to this educational +experiment an exceptional interest to students of psychology. +Nothing could be more interesting than to come into contact with a mind +that from infancy onward had dwelt only upon what is noblest in +literature, and from which had been excluded all that is enervating and +degrading. A remarkable illustration of this is the familiar case of +Helen Keller, whose acquisitions, by reason of her blindness and +deafness, were limited to what was selected for her, and that mainly by +one person, and she was therefore for a long time shielded from a +knowledge of the evil side of life. Yet all vital literature is so close +to life, and so full of its passion and peril, that it supplies all the +necessary aliment for the growth of a sound, discriminating mind; and +that knowledge of the world, as knowledge of evil is euphemistically +called, can be safely left out of a good education. This may be admitted +without going into the discussion whether good principles and standards +in literature and morals are a sufficient equipment for the perils of +life. + +This experiment, of course, was limited in Evelyn's case. She came in +contact with a great deal of life. Her little world was fairly +representative, for it contained her father, her mother, her governess, +the maids and the servants, and occasional visitors, whom she saw freely +as she grew older. The interesting fact was that she was obliged to +judge this world according to the standards of literature, morals, and +manners that had been implanted in her mainly by the influence of one +person. The important part of this experiment of partial exclusion, in +which she was never alone' an experiment undertaken solely for her safety +and not for her training-was seen in her when she became conscious of its +abnormal character, and perceived that she was always under surveillance. +It might have made her exceedingly morbid, aside from its effect of +paralyzing her self-confidence and power of initiation, had it not been +for the exceptionally strong and cheerful nature of her companion. A +position more hateful, even to a person not specially socially inclined, +cannot be imagined than that of always being watched, and never having +any assured privacy. And under such a tutelage and dependence, how in +any event could she be able to take care of herself? What weapons had +this heiress of a great fortune with which to defend herself? What sort +of a girl had this treatment during seventeen years produced? + + + + +VIII + + +To the private apartment of Mr. Mavick, in the evening of the second +eventful day, where, over his after-dinner cigar, he was amusing himself +with a French novel, enters, after a little warning tap, the mistress of +the house, for, what was a rare occurrence, a little family chat. + +"So you didn't horsewhip and you didn't prosecute. You preferred to +wriggle out!" + +"Yes," said Mavick, too much pleased with the result to be belligerent, +"I let the newspaper do the wriggling." + +"Oh, my dear, I can trust you for that. Have you any idea how it got +hold of the details?" + +"No; you don't think McDonald--" + +"McDonald! I'd as soon suspect myself. So would you." + +"Well, everybody knew it already, for that matter. I only wonder that +some newspaper didn't get on to it before. What did Evelyn say?" + +"Nothing more than what you heard at dinner. She thought it amusing that +there should be such a crowd to gaze at the house, simply because a +picture of it had appeared in a newspaper. She thought her father must +be a very important personage. I didn't undeceive her. At times, you +know, dear, I think so myself." + +"Yes, I've noticed that," said Mavick, with a good-natured laugh, in +which Carmen joined, "and those times usually coincide with the times +that you want something specially." + +"You ought to be ashamed to take me up that way. I just wanted to talk +about the coming-out reception. You know I had come over to your opinion +that seventeen was perhaps better than eighteen, considering Evelyn's +maturity. When I was seventeen I was just as good as I am now." + +"I don't doubt it," said Mavick, with another laugh. + +"But don't you see this affair upsets all our arrangements? It's very +vexatious." + +"I don't see it exactly. By-the-way, what do you think of the escape +suggested by the Spectrum, in the assertion that you and Evelyn had +arranged to go to Europe? The steamer sails tomorrow." + +"Think!" exclaimed Carmen. "Do you think I am going to be run, as you +call it, by the newspapers? They run everything else. I'm not politics, +I'm not an institution, I'm not even a revolution. No, I thank you. It +answers my purpose for them to say we have gone." + +"I suppose you can keep indoors a few days. As to the reception, I had +arranged my business for it. I may be in Mexico or Honolulu the +following winter." + +"Well, we can't have it now. You see that." + +"Carmen, I don't care a rap what the public thinks or says. The child's +got to face the world some time, and look out for herself. I fancy she +will not like it as much as you did." + +"Very likely. Perhaps I liked it because I had to fight it. Evelyn +never will do that." + +"She hasn't the least idea what the world is like." + +"Don't you be too sure of that, my dear; you don't understand yet what a +woman feels and knows. You think she only sees and thinks what she is +told. The conceit of men is most amusing about this. Evelyn is deeper +than you think. The discrimination of that child sometimes positively +frightens me--how she sees into things. It wouldn't surprise me a bit if +she actually knew her father and mother!" + +"Then she beats me," said Mavick, with another laugh, "and I've been at +it a long time. Carmen, just for fun, tell me a little about your early +life." + +"Well"--there was a Madonna-like smile on her lips, and she put out the +toe of her slender foot and appeared to study it for a moment--" +I was intended to be a nun." + +"Spanish or French?" + +"Just a plain nun. But mamma would not hear of it. Mamma was just a bit +worldly." + +"I never should have suspected it," said Mavick, with equal gravity. +"But how did you live in those early days, way back there?" + +"Oh!" and Carmen looked up with the most innocent, open-eyed expression, +"we lived on our income." + +"Naturally. We all try to do that." The tone in Mavick's voice showed +that he gave it up. + +"But, of course," and Carmen was lively again, "it's much nicer to have a +big income that's certain than a small one that is uncertain." + +"It would seem so." + +"Ah, deary me, it's such a world! Don't you think, dear, that we have +had enough domestic notoriety for one year?" + +"Quite. It would do for several." + +"And we will put it off a year?" + +"Arrange as you like." And Mavick stretched up his arms, half yawned, +and took up another cigar. + +"It will be such a relief to McDonald. She insisted it was too soon." +And Carmen whirled out of her chair, went behind her husband, lifted with +her delicate fingers a lock of grayish hair on his forehead, deposited +the lightest kiss there--"Nobody in the world knows how good you are +except me," and was gone. + +And the rich man, who had gained everything he wanted in life except +happiness, lighted his cigar and sought refuge in a tale of modern life, +that was, however, too much like his own history to be consoling. + +It must not be supposed from what she said that Mrs. Mavick stood in fear +of her daughter, but it was only natural that for a woman of the world +the daily contact of a pure mind should be at times inconvenient. This +pure mind was an awful touchstone of conduct, and there was a fear that +Evelyn's ignorance of life would prevent her from making the proper +allowances. In her affectionate and trusting nature, which suspected +little evil anywhere, there was no doubt that her father and mother +had her entire confidence and love. But the likelihood was that she +would not be pliant. Under Miss McDonald's influence she had somewhat +abstract notions of what is right and wrong, and she saw no reason +why these should not be applied in all cases. What her mother would +have called policy and reasonable concessions she would have given +different names. For getting on in the world, this state of mind has its +disadvantages, and in the opinion of practical men, like Mavick, it was +necessary to know good and evil. But it was the girl's power of +discernment that bothered her mother, who used often to wonder where the +child came from. + +On the other hand, it must not be supposed that the singular training of +Evelyn had absolutely destroyed her inherited tendencies, or made her as +she was growing into womanhood anything but a very real woman, with the +reserves, the weaknesses, the coquetries, the defenses which are the +charm of her sex. Nor was she so ignorant of life as such a guarded +personality might be thought. Her very wide range of reading had +liberalized her mind, and given her a much wider outlook upon the +struggles and passions and failures and misery of life than many another +girl of her age had gained by her limited personal experience. Those who +hold the theory that experience is the only guide are right as a matter +of fact, since every soul seems determined to try for itself and not to +accept the accumulated wisdom of literature or of experienced advisers; +but those who come safely out of their experiences are generally sound by +principle which has been instilled in youth. But it is useless to +moralize. Only the event could show whether such an abnormal training as +Evelyn had received was wise. + +When Mrs. Mavick went to her daughter's apartments she found Evelyn +reading aloud and Miss McDonald at work on an elaborate piece of +Bulgarian embroidery. + +"How industrious! What a rebuke to me!" + +"I don't see, mamma, how we could be doing less; I've only an audience of +one, and she is wasting her time." + +"Well, carissima, it is settled. It's off for a year." + +"The reception? Why so?" + +"Your father cannot arrange it. He has too much on hand this season, and +may be away." + +"There, McDonald, we've got a reprieve," and Evelyn gave a sigh of +relief. + +The Scotch woman smiled, and only said, "Then I shall have time to finish +this." + +Evelyn jumped up, threw herself into her mother's lap, and began to +smooth her hair and pet her. "I'm awfully glad. I'd ever so much rather +stay in than come out. Yes, dear little mother." + +"Little?" + +"Yes." And the girl pulled her mother from her chair, and made her stand +up to measure. "See, McDonald, almost an inch taller than mamma, and +when I do my hair on top!" + +"And see, mamma"--the girl was pirouetting on the floor--" I can do those +steps you do. Isn't it Spanish?" + +"Rather Spanish-American, I guess. This is the way." + +Evelyn clapped her hands. "Isn't that lovely!" + +"You are only a little brownie, after all." Her mother was holding her +at arm's--length and studying her critically, wondering if she would ever +be handsome. + +The girl was slender, but not tall. Her figure had her mother's grace, +but not its suggestion of yielding suppleness. She was an undoubted +brunette--complexion olive, hair very dark, almost black except in the +sunlight, and low on her forehead-chin a little strong, and nose piquant +to say the least of it. Certainly features not regular nor classic. The +mouth, larger than her mother's, had full lips, the upper one short, and +admirable curves, strong in repose, but fascinating when she smiled. A +face not handsome, but interesting. And the eyes made you hesitate to +say she was not handsome, for they were large, of a dark hazel and +changeable, eyes that flashed with merriment, or fell into sadness under +the long eyelashes; and it would not be safe to say that they could not +blaze with indignation. Not a face to go wild about, but when you felt +her character through it, a face very winning in its dark virgin purity. + +"I do wonder where she came from? "Mrs. Mavick was saying to herself, as +she threw herself upon a couch in her own room and took up the latest +Spanish novel. + + + + +IX + +Celia Howard had been, in a way, Philip's inspiration ever since the days +when they quarreled and made up on the banks of the Deer field. And a +fortunate thing for him it was that in his callow years there was a woman +in whom he could confide. Her sympathy was everything, even if her +advice was not always followed. In the years of student life and +preparation they had not often met, but they were constant and +painstaking correspondents. It was to her that he gave the running +chronicle of his life, and poured out his heart and aspirations. +Unconsciously he was going to school to a woman, perhaps the most +important part of his education. For, though in this way he might never +hope to understand woman, he was getting most valuable knowledge of +himself. + +As a guide, Philip was not long in discovering that Celia was somewhat +uncertain. She kept before him a very high ideal; she expected him to be +distinguished and successful, but, her means varied from time to time. +Now she would have him take one path and now another. And Philip learned +to read in this varying advice the changes in her own experience. There +was a time when she hoped he would be a great scholar: there was no +position so noble as that of a university professor or president. Then +she turned short round and extolled the business life: get money, get a +position, and then you can study, write books, do anything you like and +be independent. Then came a time--this was her last year in college-- +when science seemed the only thing. That was really a benefit to +mankind: create something, push discovery, dispel ignorance. + +"Why, Phil, if you could get people to understand about ventilation, the +necessity of pure air, you would deserve a monument. And, besides--this +is an appeal to your lower nature--science is now the thing that pays." +Theology she never considered; that was just now too uncertain in its +direction. Law she had finally approved; it was still respectable; it +was a very good waiting-ground for many opportunities, and it did not +absolutely bar him from literature, for which she perceived he had a +sneaking fondness. + +Philip wondered if Celia was not thinking of the law for herself. +She had tried teaching, she had devoted herself for a time to work in a +College Settlement, she had learned stenography, she had talked of +learning telegraphy, she had been interested in women's clubs, in a civic +club, in the political education of women, and was now a professor of +economics in a girl's college. + +It finally dawned upon Philip, who was plodding along, man fashion, in +one of the old ruts, feeling his way, like a true American, into the +career that best suited him, that Celia might be a type of the awakened +American woman, who does not know exactly what she wants. +To be sure, she wants everything. She has recently come into an open +place, and she is distracted by the many opportunities. She has no +sooner taken up one than she sees another that seems better, or more +important in the development of her sex, and she flies to that. +But nothing, long, seems the best thing. Perhaps men are in the way, +monopolizing all the best things. Celia had never made a suggestion of +this kind, but Philip thought she was typical of the women who push +individualism so far as never to take a dual view of life. + +"I have just been," Celia wrote in one of her letters, when she was an +active club woman, "out West to a convention of the Federation of Women's +Clubs. Such a striking collection of noble, independent women! +Handsome, lots of them, and dressed--oh, my friend, dress is still a part +of it! So different from a man's convention! Cranks? Yes, a few left +over. It was a fine, inspiring meeting. But, honestly, I could not +exactly make out what they were federating about, and what they were +going to do when they got federated. It sort of came over me, +I am such a weak sister, that there is such a lot of work done in this +world with no object except the doing of it." + +A more recent letter:--"Do you remember Aunt Hepsy, who used to keep the +little thread-and-needle and candy shop in Rivervale? Such a dear, +sweet, contented old soul! Always a smile and a good word for every +customer. I can see her now, picking out the biggest piece of candy in +the dish that she could afford to give for a little fellow's cent. It +never came over me until lately how much good that old woman did in the +world. I remember what a comfort it was to go and talk with her. Well, +I am getting into a frame of mind to want to be an Aunt Hepsy. There is +so much sawdust in everything--No, I'm not low-spirited. I'm just +philosophical--I've a mind to write a life of Aunt Hepsy, and let the +world see what a real useful life is." + +And here is a passage from the latest:--"What an interesting story your +friend--I hope he isn't you friend, for I don't half like him--has made +out of that Mavick girl! If I were the girl's mother I should want to +roast him over the coals. Is there any truth in it? + +"Of course I read it, as everybody did and read the crawl out, and looked +for more. So it is partly our fault, but what a shame it is, the +invasion of family life! Do tell me, if you happen to see her--the girl +--driving in the Park or anywhere--of course you never will--what she +looks like. I should like to see an unsophisticated millionaire-ess! +But it is an awfully interesting problem, invented or not I'm pretty deep +in psychology these days, and I'd give anything to come in contact with +that girl. You would just see a woman, and you wouldn't know. I'd see a +soul. Dear me, if I'd only had the chance of that Scotch woman! Don't +you see, if we could only get to really know one mind and soul, we should +know it all. I mean scientifically. I know what you are thinking, that +all women have that chance. What you think is impertinent--to the +subject." + +Indeed, the story of Evelyn interested everybody. It was taken up +seriously in the country regions. It absorbed New York gossip for two +days, and then another topic took possession of the mercurial city; but +it was the sort of event to take possession of the country mind. New +York millionaires get more than their share of attention in the country +press at all times, but this romance became the subject of household talk +and church and sewing-circle gossip, and all the women were eager for +more details, and speculated endlessly about the possible character and +career of the girl. + +Alice wrote Philip from Rivervale that her aunt Patience was very much +excited by it. "'The poor thing,' she said, 'always to have somebody +poking round, seeing every blessed thing you do or don't do; it would +drive me crazy. There is that comfort in not having anything much--you +have yourself. You tell Philip that I hope he doesn't go there often. +I've no objection to his being kind to the poor thing when they meet, and +doing neighborly things, but I do hope he won't get mixed up with that +set.' It is very amusing," Alice continued, "to hear Patience +soliloquize about it and construct the whole drama. + +"But you cannot say, Philip, that you are not warned (!) and you know that +Patience is almost a prophet in the way she has of putting things +together. Celia was here recently looking after the little house that +has been rented ever since the death of her mother. I never saw her look +so well and handsome, and yet there was a sort of air about her as if she +had been in public a good deal and was quite capable of taking care of +herself. But she was that way when she was little. + +"I think she is a good friend of yours. Well, Phil, if you do ever happen +to see that Evelyn in the opera, or anywhere, tell me how she looks and +what she has on--if you can." + +The story had not specially interested Philip, except as it was connected +with Brad's newspaper prospects, but letters, like those referred to, +received from time to time, began to arouse a personal interest. Of +course merely a psychological interest, though the talk here and there at +dinner-tables stimulated his desire, at least, to see the subject of +them. But in this respect he was to be gratified, in the usual way +things desired happen in life--that is, by taking pains to bring them +about. + +When Mr. Brad came back from his vacation his manner had somewhat +changed. He had the air of a person who stands on firm ground. +He felt that he was a personage. He betrayed this in a certain +deliberation of speech, as if any remark from him now might be important. +In a way he felt himself related to public affairs. + +In short, he had exchanged the curiosity of the reporter for the +omniscience of the editor. And for a time Philip was restrained from +intruding the subject of the Mavick sensation. However, one day after +dinner he ventured: + +"I see, Mr. Brad, that your hit still attracts attention." Mr. Brad +looked inquiringly blank. + +I mean about the millionaire heiress. It has excited a wide interest." + +"Ah, that! Yes, it gave me a chance," replied Brad, who was thinking +only of himself. + +"I've had several letters about it from the country." + +"Yes? Well, I suppose," said Brad, modestly, "that a little country +notoriety doesn't hurt a person." + +Philip did not tell his interlocutor that, so far as he knew, nobody in +the country had ever heard the name of Olin Brad, or knew there was such +a person in existence. But he went on: + +"Certainly. And, besides, there is a great curiosity to know about the +girl. Did you ever see her?" + +"Only in public. I don't know Mavick personally, and for reasons," and +Mr. Brad laughed in a superior manner. "It's easy enough to see her." + +"How?" + +"Watch out for a Wagner night, and go to the opera. You'll see where +Mavick's box is in the bill. She is pretty sure to be there, and her +mother. There is nothing special about her; but her mother is still a +very fascinating woman, I can tell you. You'll find her sure on a +'Carmen' night, but not so sure of the girl." + +On this suggestion Philip promptly acted. The extra expense of an +orchestra seat he put down to his duty to keep his family informed of +anything that interested them in the city. It was a "Siegfried" night, +and a full house. To describe it all would be very interesting to Alice. +The Mavick box was empty until the overture was half through. Then +appeared a gentleman who looked as if he were performing a public duty, +a lady who looked as if she were receiving a public welcome, and seated +between them a dark, slender girl, who looked as if she did not see the +public at all, but only the orchestra. + +Behind them, in the shadow, a middle-aged woman in plainer attire. +It must be the Scotch governess. Mrs. Mavick had her eyes +everywhere about the house, and was graciously bowing to her friends. +Mr. Mavick coolly and unsympathetically regarded the house, quite +conscious of it, but as if he were a little bored. You could not see him +without being aware that he was thinking of other things, probably of +far-reaching schemes. People always used to say of Mavick, when he was +young and a clerk in a Washington bureau, that he looked omniscient. At +least the imagination of spectators invested him with a golden hue, and +regarded him through the roseate atmosphere that surrounds a many- +millioned man. The girl had her eyes always on the orchestra, and was +waiting for the opening of the world that lay behind the drop-curtain. +Philip noticed that all the evening Mrs. Mavick paid very little +attention to the stage, except when the rest of the house was so dark +that she could distinguish little in it. + +Fortunately for Philip, in his character of country reporter, the Mavick +box was near the stage, and he could very well see what was going on in +it, without wholly distracting his attention from Wagner's sometimes very +dimly illuminated creation. + +There are faces and figures that compel universal attention and +admiration. Commonly there is one woman in a theatre at whom all glances +are leveled. It is a mystery why one face makes only an individual +appeal, and an appeal much stronger than that of one universally admired. +The house certainly concerned itself very little about the shy and dark +heiress in the Mavick box, having with regard to her only a moment's +curiosity. But the face instantly took hold of Philip. He found it more +interesting to read the play in her face than on the stage. He seemed +instantly to have established a chain of personal sympathy with her. So +intense was his regard that it seemed as if she must, if there is +anything in the telepathic theory of the interchange of feeling, have +been conscious of it. That she was, however, unconscious of any +influence reaching her except from the stage was perfectly evident. She +was absorbed in the drama, even when the drama was almost lost in +darkness, and only an occasional grunting ejaculation gave evidence that +there was at least animal life responsive to the continual pleading, +suggesting, inspiring strains of the orchestra. In the semi-gloom and +groping of the under-world, it would seem that the girl felt that +mystery of life which the instruments were trying to interpret. + +At any rate, Philip could see that she was rapt away into that other +world of the past, to a practical unconsciousness of her immediate +surroundings. Was it the music or the poetic idea that held her? +Perhaps only the latter, for it is Wagner's gift to reach by his +creations those who have little technical knowledge of music. At any +rate, she was absorbed, and so perfectly was the progress of the drama +repeated in her face that Philip, always with the help of the orchestra, +could trace it there. + +But presently something more was evident to this sympathetic student of +her face. She was not merely discovering the poet's world, she was +finding out herself. As the drama unfolded, Philip was more interested +in this phase than in the observation of her enjoyment and appreciation. +To see her eyes sparkle and her cheeks glow with enthusiasm during the +sword-song was one thing, but it was quite another when Siegfried began +his idyl, that nature and bird song of the awakening of the whole being +to the passion of love. Then it was that Evelyn's face had a look of +surprise, of pain, of profound disturbance; it was suffused with blushes, +coming and going in passionate emotion; the eyes no longer blazed, but +were softened in a melting tenderness of sympathy, and her whole person +seemed to be carried into the stream of the great life passion. When it +ceased she sank back in her seat, and blushed still more, as if in fear +that some one had discovered her secret. + +Afterwards, when Philip had an opportunity of knowing Evelyn Mavick, and +knowing her very well, and to some extent having her confidence, he used +to say to himself that he had little to learn--the soul of the woman was +perfectly revealed to him that night of "Siegfried." + +As the curtain went down, Mrs. Mavick, whose attention had not been +specially given to the artists before, was clapping her hands in a great +state of excitement. + +"Why don't you applaud, child?" + +"Oh, mother," was all the girl could say, with heaving breast and +downcast eyes. + + + + +X + +All winter long that face seemed to get between Philip and his work. It +was an inspiration to his pen when it ran in the way of literature, but a +distinct damage to progress in his profession. He had seen Evelyn again, +more than once, at the opera, and twice been excited by a passing glimpse +of her on a crisp, sunny afternoon in the Mavick carriage in the Park- +always the same bright, eager face. So vividly personal was the +influence upon him that it seemed impossible that she should not be aware +of it--impossible that she could not know there was such a person in the +world as Philip Burnett. + +Fortunately youth can create its own world. Between the secluded +daughter of millions and the law clerk was a great gulf, but this did not +prevent Evelyn's face, and, in moments of vanity, Evelyn herself, from +belonging to Philip's world. He would have denied--we have a habit of +lying to ourselves quite as much as to others--that he ever dreamed of +possessing her, but nevertheless she entered into his thoughts and his +future in a very curious way. If he saw himself a successful lawyer, her +image appeared beside him. If his story should gain the public +attention, and his occasional essays come to be talked of, it was +Evelyn's interest and approval that he caught himself thinking about. +And he had a conviction that she was one to be much more interested in +him as a man of letters than as a lawyer. This might be true. In +Philip's story, which was very slowly maturing, the heroine fell in love +with a young man simply for himself, and regardless of the fact that he +was poor and had his career to make. But he knew that if his novel ever +got published the critics would call it a romance, and not a transcript +of real life. Had not women ceased to be romantic and ceased to indulge +in vagaries of affection? + +Was it that Philip was too irresolute to cut either law or literature, +and go in, single-minded, for a fortune of some kind, and a place? +Or was it merely that he had confidence in the winning character of his +own qualities and was biding his time? If it was a question of making +himself acceptable to a woman--say a woman like Evelyn--was it not +belittling to his own nature to plan to win her by what he could make +rather than by what he was? + +Probably the vision he had of Evelyn counted for very little in his +halting decision. "Why don't you put her into a novel?" asked Mr. Brad +one evening. The suggestion was a shock. Philip conveyed the idea +pretty plainly that he hadn't got so low as that yet. "Ah, you fellows +think you must make your own material. You are higher-toned than old +Dante." The fact was that Philip was not really halting. Every day he +was less and less in love with the law as it was practiced, and, courting +reputation, he would much rather be a great author than a great lawyer. +But he kept such thoughts to himself. He had inherited a very good stock +of common-sense. Apparently he devoted himself to his office work, and +about the occupation of his leisure hours no one was in his confidence +except Celia, and now and then, when he got something into print, Alice. +Professedly Celia was his critic, but really she was the necessary +appreciator, for probably most writers would come to a standstill if +there was no sympathetic soul to whom they could communicate, while they +were fresh, the teeming fancies of their brains. + +The winter wore along without any incident worth recording, but still +fruitful for the future, as Philip fondly hoped. And one day chance +threw in his way another sensation. Late in the afternoon of a spring +day he was sent from the office to Mavick's house with a bundle of papers +to be examined and signed. + +"You will be pretty sure to find him," said Mr. Sharp, "at home about +six. Wait till you do see him. The papers must be signed and go to +Washington by the night mail." + +Mr. Mavick was in his study, and received Philip very civilly, as the +messenger of his lawyers, and was soon busy in examining the documents, +flinging now and then a short question to Philip, who sat at the table +near him. + +Suddenly there was a tap at the door, and, not waiting for a summons, a +young girl entered, and stopped after a couple of steps. + +"Oh, I didn't know--" + +"What is it, dear?" said Mr. Mavick, looking up a moment, and then down +at the papers. + +"Why, about the coachman's baby. I thought perhaps--" She had a paper in +her hand, and advanced towards the table, and then stopped, seeing that +her father was not alone. + +Philip rose involuntarily. Mr. Mavick looked up quickly. "Yes, +presently. I've just now got a little business with Mr. Burnett." + +It was not an introduction. But for an instant the eyes of the young +people met. It seemed to Philip that it was a recognition. Certainly +the full, sweet eyes were bent on him for the second she stood there, +before turning away and leaving the room. And she looked just as true +and sweet as Philip dreamed she would look at home. He sat in a kind of +maze for the quarter of an hour while Mavick was affixing his signature +and giving some directions. He heard all the directions, and carried +away the papers, but he also carried away something else unknown to the +broker. After all, he found himself reflecting, as he walked down the +avenue, the practice of the law has its good moments! + +What was there in this trivial incident that so magnified it in Philip's +mind, day after day? Was it that he began to feel that he had +established a personal relation with Evelyn because she had seen him? +Nothing had really happened. Perhaps she had not heard his name, perhaps +she did not carry the faintest image of him out of the room with her. +Philip had read in romances of love at first sight, and he had personal +experience of it. Commonly, in romances, the woman gives no sign of it, +does not admit it to herself, denies it in her words and in her conduct, +and never owns it until the final surrender. "When was the first moment +you began to love me, dear?" "Why, the first moment, that day; didn't +you know it then?" This we are led to believe is common experience with +the shy and secretive sex. It is enough, in a thousand reported cases, +that he passed her window on horseback, and happened to look her way. +But with such a look! The mischief was done. But this foundation was +too slight for Philip to build such a hope on. + +Looking back, we like to trace great results to insignificant, momentary +incidents--a glance, a word, that turned the current of a life. There +was a definite moment when the thought came to Alexander that he would +conquer the world! Probably there was no such moment. The great +Alexander was restless, and at no initial instant did he conceive his +scheme of conquest. Nor was it one event that set him in motion. We +confound events with causes. It happened on such a day. Yes, but it +might have happened on another. But if Philip had not been sent on that +errand to Mavick probably Evelyn would never have met him. What nonsense +this is, and what an unheroic character it makes Philip! Is it +supposable that, with such a romance as he had developed about the girl, +he would not some time have come near her, even if she had been locked up +with all the bars and bolts of a safety deposit? + +The incident of this momentary meeting was, however, of great +consequence. There is no such feeder of love as the imagination. +And fortunate it was for Philip that his romance was left to grow in the +wonder-working process of his own mind. At first there had been merely a +curiosity in regard to a person whose history and education had been +peculiar. Then the sight of her had raised a strange tumult in his +breast, and his fancy began to play about her image, seen only at a +distance and not many times, until his imagination built up a being of +surpassing loveliness, and endowed with all the attractions that the +poets in all ages have given to the sex that inspires them. But this +sort of creation in the mind becomes vague, and related to literature +only, unless it is sustained by some reality. Even Petrarch must +occasionally see Laura at the church door, and dwell upon the veiled +dreamer that passed and perhaps paused a moment to regard him with sad +eyes. Philip, no doubt, nursed a genuine passion, which grew into an +exquisite ideal in the brooding of a poetic mind, but it might in time +have evaporated into thin air, remaining only as an emotional and +educational experience. But this moment in Mr. Mavick's library had +given a solid body to his imaginations, and a more definite turn to his +thought of her. + +If, in some ordinary social chance, Philip had encountered the heiress, +without this previous wonderworking of his imagination in regard to her, +the probability is that he would have seen nothing especially to +distinguish her from the other girls of her age and newness in social +experience. Certainly the thought that she was the possessor of +uncounted millions would have been, on his side, an insuperable barrier +to any advance. But the imagination works wonders truly, and Philip saw +the woman and not the heiress. She had become now a distinct +personality; to be desired above all things on earth, and that he should +see her again he had no doubt. + +This thought filled his mind, and even when he was not conscious of it +gave a sort of color to life, refined his perceptions, and gave him +almost sensuous delight in the masterpieces of poetry which had formerly +appealed only to his intellectual appreciation of beauty. + +He had not yet come to a desire to share his secret with any confidant, +but preferred to be much alone and muse on it, creating a world which was +without evil, without doubt, undisturbed by criticism. In this so real +dream it was the daily office work that seemed unreal, and the company +and gossip of his club a kind of vain show. He began to frequent the +picture-galleries, where there was at least an attempt to express +sentiment, and to take long walks to the confines of the city-confines +fringed with all the tender suggestions of the opening spring. Even the +monotonous streets which he walked were illumined in his eyes, glorified +by the fullness of life and achievement. "Yes," he said again and again, +as he stood on the Heights, in view of the river, the green wall of +Jersey and the great metropolis spread away to the ocean gate, "it is a +beautiful city! And the critics say it is commonplace and vulgar." Dear +dreamer, it is a beautiful city, and for one reason and another a million +of people who have homes there think so. But take out of it one person, +and it would have for you no more interest than any other huge assembly +of ugly houses. How, in a lover's eyes, the woman can transfigure a +city, a landscape, a country! + +Celia had come up to town for the spring exhibitions, and was lodging at +the Woman's Club. Naturally Philip saw much of her, indeed gave her all +his time that the office did not demand. Her company was always for him +a keen delight, an excitement, and in its way a rest. For though she +always criticised, she did not nag, and just because she made no demands, +nor laid any claims on him, nor ever reproached him for want of devotion, +her society was delightful and never dull. They dined together at the +Woman's Club, they experimented on the theatres, they visited the +galleries and the picture-shops, they took little excursions into the +suburbs and came back impressed with the general cheapness and +shabbiness, and they talked--talked about all they saw, all they had +read, and something of what they thought. What was wanting to make this +charming camaraderie perfect? Only one thing. + +It may have occurred to Philip that Celia had not sufficient respect for +his opinions; she regarded them simply as opinions, not as his. + +One afternoon, in the Metropolitan Picture-Gallery, Philip had been +expressing enthusiasm for some paintings that Celia thought more +sentimental than artistic, and this reminded her that he was getting into +a general way of admiring everything. + +"You didn't use, Philip, to care so much for pictures." + +"Oh, I've been seeing more." + +"But you don't say you like that? Look at the drawing." + +"Well, it tells the story." + +"A story is nothing; it's the way it's told. This is not well told." + +"It pleases me. Look at that girl." + +"Yes, she is domestic. I admit that. But I'm not sure I do not prefer +an impressionistic girl, whom you can't half see, to such a thorough +bread-and-butter miss as this." + +"Which would you rather live with?" + +"I'm not obliged to live with either. In fact, I'd rather live with +myself. If it's art, I want art; if it's cooking and sewing, I want +cooking and sewing. If the artist knew enough, he'd paint a woman +instead of a cook." + +"Then you don't care for real life?" + +"Real life! There is no such thing. You are demonstrating that. You +transform this uninteresting piece of domesticity into an ideal woman, +ennobling her surroundings. She doesn't do it. She is level with them." + +"It would be a dreary world if we didn't idealize things." + +"So it would. And that is what I complain of in such 'art' as this. I +don't know what has got into you, Phil. I never saw you so exuberant. +You are pleased with everything. Have you had a rise in the office? +Have you finished your novel?" + +"Neither. No rise. No novel. But Tweedle is getting friendly. Threw +an extra job in my way the other day. Do you think I'd better offer my +novel, when it is done, to Tweedle?" + +"Tweedle, indeed!" + +"Well, one of our clients is one of the great publishing firms, and +Tweedle often dines with the publisher." + +"For shame, Phil!" + +Philip laughed. "At any rate, that is no meaner than a suggestion of +Brad's. He says if I will just weave into it a lot of line scenery, and +set my people traveling on the great trunk, stopping off now and then at +an attractive branch, the interested railroads would gladly print it and +scatter it all over the country." + +"No doubt," said Celia, sinking down upon a convenient seat. "I begin to +feel as if there were no protection for anything. And, Phil, that great +monster of a Mavick, who is eating up the country, isn't he a client +also?" + +"Occasionally only. A man like Mavick has his own lawyers and judges." + +"Did you ever see him?" + +"Just glimpses." + +"And that daughter of his, about whom such a fuss was made, I suppose you +never met her?" + +"Oh, as I wrote you, at the opera; saw her in her box." + +"And--?" + +"Oh, she's rather a little thing; rather dark, I told you that; seems +devoted to music." + +"And you didn't tell what she wore." + +"Why, what they all wear. Something light and rather fluffy." + +"Just like a man. Is she pretty?" + +"Ye-e-s; has that effect. You'd notice her eyes." If Philip had been +frank he would have answered, + +"I don't know. She's simply adorable," and Celia would have understood +all about it. + +"And probably doesn't know anything. Yes, highly educated? I heard +that. But I'm getting tired of 'highly educated'; I see so many of them. +I've been making them now for years. Perhaps I'm one of them. And where +am I? Don't interrupt. I tell you it is a relief to come across a +sweet, womanly ignoramus. What church does she go to?" + +"Who?" + +"That Mavick girl." + +"St. Thomas', I believe." + +"That's good--that's devotional. I suppose you go there too, being +brought up a Congregationalist?" + +"At vespers, sometimes. But, Celia, what is the matter with you? +I thought you didn't care--didn't care to belong to anything?" + +"I? I belong to everything. Didn't I write you reams about my studies +in psychology? I've come to one conclusion. There are only two persons +in the world who stand on a solid foundation, the Roman Catholic and the +Agnostic. The Roman Catholic knows everything, the Agnostic doesn't know +anything." + +Philip was never certain when the girl was bantering him; nor, when she +was in earnest, how long she would remain in that mind and mood. So he +ventured, humorously: + +"The truth is, Celia, that you know too much to be either. You are what +they call emancipated." + +"Emancipated!" And Celia sat up energetically, as if she were now really +interested in the conversation. "Become the slave of myself instead of +the slave of somebody else! That's the most hateful thing to be, +emancipated. I never knew a woman who said she was emancipated who +wasn't in some ridiculous folly or another. Now, Phil, I'm going to tell +you something. I can tell you. You know I've been striving to have a +career, to get out of myself somehow, and have a career for myself. +Well, today--mind, I don't say tomorrow"--(and there was a queer little +smile on her lips)--"I think I will just try to be good to people and +things in general, in a human way." + +"And give up education?" + +"No, no. I get my living by education, just as you do, or hope to do, by +law or by letters; it's all the same. But wait. I haven't finished what +I was going to say. The more I go into psychology, trying to find out +about my mind and mind generally, the more mysterious everything is. Do +you know, Phil, that I'm getting into the supernatural? You can't help +running into it. For me, I am not side-tracked by any of the nonsense +about magnetism and telepathy and mind-reading and other psychic +imponderabilities. Isn't it queer that the further we go into science +the deeper we go into mystery? + +"Now, don't be shocked, I mean it reverently, just as an illustration. Do +you think any one knows really anything more about the operation in the +world of electricity than he does about the operation of the Holy Ghost? +And yet people talk about science as if it were something they had made +themselves." + +"But, Celia--" + +"No, I've talked enough. We are in this world and not in some other, and +I have to make my living. Let's go into the other room and see the old +masters. They, at least, knew how to paint--to paint passion and +character; some of them could paint soul. And then, Phil, I shall be +hungry. Talking about the mind always makes me hungry." + + + + +XI + +Philip was always welcome at his uncle's house in Rivervale. It was, of +course, his home during his college life, and since then he was always +expected for his yearly holiday. The women of the house made much of +him, waited on him, deferred to him, petted him, with a flattering +mingling of tenderness to a little boy and the respect due to a man who +had gone into the world. Even Mr. Maitland condescended to a sort of +equality in engaging Philip in conversation about the state of the +country and the prospects of business in New York. + +It was July. When Philip went to sleep at night--he was in the front +chamber reserved for guests--the loud murmur of the Deerfield was in his +ears, like a current bearing him away into sweet sleep and dreams in a +land of pleasant adventures. Only in youth come such dreams. Later on +the sophisticated mind, left to its own guidance in the night, wanders +amid the complexities of life, calling up in confusion scenes long +forgotten or repented of, images only registered by a sub-conscious +process, dreams to perplex, irritate, and excite. + +In the morning the same continuous murmur seemed to awake him into a +peaceful world. Through the open window came in the scents of summer, +the freshness of a new day. How sweet and light was the air! It was +indeed the height of summer. The corn, not yet tasseled, stood in green +flexible ranks, moved by the early breeze. In the river-meadows haying +had just begun. Fields of timothy and clover, yellowing to ripeness, +took on a fresh bloom from the dew, and there was an odor of new-mown +grass from the sections where the scythes had been. He heard the call of +the crow from the hill, the melody of the bobolink along the meadow- +brook; indeed, the birds of all sorts were astir, skimming along the +ground or rising to the sky, keeping watch especially over the garden and +the fruit-trees, carrying food to their nests, or teaching their young +broods to fly and to chirp the songs of summer. And from the woodshed +the shrill note of the scythe under the action of the grindstone. No +such vivid realization of summer as that. + +Philip stole out the unused front door without disturbing the family. +Whither? Where would a boy be likely to go the first thing? To the +barn, the great cavernous barn, its huge doors now wide open, the stalls +vacant, the mows empty, the sunlight sifting in through the high shadowy +spaces. How much his life had been in that barn! How he had stifled and +scrambled mowing hay in those lofts! On the floor he had hulled heaps of +corn, thrashed oats with a flail--a noble occupation--and many a rainy +day had played there with girls and boys who could not now exactly +describe the games or well recall what exciting fun they were. There +were the racks where he put the fodder for cattle and horses, and there +was the cutting-machine for the hay and straw and for slicing the frozen +turnips on cold winter mornings. + +In the barn-yard were the hens, just as usual, walking with measured +step, scratching and picking in the muck, darting suddenly to one side +with an elevated wing, clucking, chattering, jabbering endlessly about +nothing. They did not seem to mind him as he stood in the open door. +But the rooster, in his oriental iridescent plumage, jumped upon a fence- +post and crowed defiantly, in warning that this was his preserve. They +seemed like the same hens, yet Philip knew they were all strangers; all +the hens and flaunting roosters he knew had long ago gone to +Thanksgiving. The hen is, or should be, an annual. It is never made a +pet. It forms no attachments. Man is no better acquainted with the hen, +as a being, than he was when the first chicken was hatched. Its business +is to live a brief chicken life, lay, and be eaten. And this reminded +Philip that his real occupation was hunting hens' eggs. And this he did, +in the mows, in the stalls, under the floor-planks, in every hidden nook. +The hen's instinct is to be orderly, and have a secluded nest of her own, +and bring up a family. But in such a communistic body it is a wise hen +who knows her own chicken. Nobody denies to the hen maternal instincts +or domestic proclivities, but what an ill example is a hen community! + +And then Philip climbed up the hill, through the old grass-plot and the +orchard, to the rocks and the forest edge, and the great view. +It had more meaning to him than when he was a boy, and it was more +beautiful. In a certain peaceful charm, he had seen nothing anywhere in +the world like it. Partly this was because his boyish impressions, +the first fresh impressions of the visible world, came back to him; but +surely it was very beautiful. More experienced travelers than Philip +felt its unique charm. + +When he descended, Alice was waiting to breakfast with him. Mrs. +Maitland declared, with an approving smile on her placid, aging face, +that he was the same good-for-nothing boy. But Alice said, as she sat +down to the little table with Philip, "It is different, mother, with us +city folks." They were in the middle room, and the windows opened to the +west upon the river-meadows and the wooded hills beyond, and through one +a tall rose-bush was trying to thrust its fragrant bloom. + +What a dainty breakfast! Alice flushed with pleasure. It was so good of +him to come to them. Had he slept well? Did it seem like home at all? +Philip's face showed that it was home without the need of saying so. +Such coffee-yes, a real aroma of the berry! Just a little more, would he +have? And as Alice raised the silver pitcher, there was a deep dimple in +her sweet cheek. How happy she was! And then the butter, so fresh and +cool, and the delicious eggs--by the way, he had left a hatful in the +kitchen as he came in. Alice explained that she did not make the eggs. +And then there was the journey, the heat in the city, the grateful sight +of the Deerfield, the splendid morning, the old barn, the watering- +trough, the view from the hill everything just as it used to be. + +"Dear Phil, it is so nice to have you here," and there were tears in +Alice's eyes, she was so happy. + +After breakfast Philip strolled down the country road through the +village. How familiar was every step of the way!--the old houses jutting +out at the turns in the road; the glimpse of the river beyond the little +meadow where Captain Rice was killed; the spring under the ledge over +which the snap-dragon grew; the dilapidated ranks of fence smothered in +vines and fireweeds; the cottages, with flower-pots in front; the stores, +with low verandas ornamented with boxes and barrels; the academy in its +green on the hill; the old bridge over which the circus elephant dared +not walk; the new and the old churches, with rival steeples; and, not +familiar, the new inn. + +And he knew everybody, young and old, at doorways, in the fields or +gardens, and had for every one a hail and a greeting. How he enjoyed it +all, and his self-consciousness added to his pleasure, as he swung along +in his well-fitting city clothes, broad-shouldered and erect--it is +astonishing how much a tailor can do for a man who responds to his +efforts. It is a pleasure to come across such a hero as this in real +life, and not have to invent him, as the saying is, out of the whole +cloth. Philip enjoyed the world, and he enjoyed himself, because it was +not quite his old self, the farmer's boy going on an errand. There must +be knowledge all along the street that he was in the great law office of +Hunt, Sharp & Tweedle. And, besides, Philip's name must be known to all +the readers of magazines in the town as a writer, a name in more than one +list of "contributors." That was fame. Translated, however, into +country comprehension it was something like this, if he could have heard +the comments after he had passed by: + +"Yes, that's Phil Burnett, sure enough; but I'd hardly know him; spruced +up mightily. I wonder what he's at?" + +"I heard he was down in New York trying to law it. I heard he's been +writin' some for newspapers. Accordin' to his looks, must pay a durn +sight better'n farmin'." + +"Well, I always said that boy wa'n't no skeezics." + +Almost the first question Philip asked Alice on his return was about the +new inn, the Peacock Inn. + +"There seemed a good deal of stir about it as I passed." + +"Why, I forgot to tell you about it. It's the great excitement. +Rivervale is getting known. The Mavicks are there. I hear they've taken +pretty much the whole of it." + +"The Mavicks? + +"Yes, the New York Mavicks, that you wrote us about, that were in the +paper." + +"How long have they been there?" + +"A week. There is Mrs. Mavick and her daughter, and the governess, and +two maids, and a young fellow in uniform--yes, livery--and a coachman in +the same, and a stableful of horses and carriages. It upset the village +like a circus. And they say there's a French chef in white cap and +apron, who comes to the side-door and jabbers to the small boys like +fireworks." + +"How did it come about?" + +"Naturally, I guess; a city family wanting a quiet place for summer in +the country. But you will laugh. Patience first discovered it. One +day, sitting at the window, she saw a two-horse buggy driven by the +landlord of the Peacock, and a gentleman by his side. 'Well, I wonder +who that is-city man certainly. And wherever is he going? May be a +railroad man. But there is nothing the matter with the railroad. +Shouldn't wonder if he is going to see the tunnel. If it was just that, +the landlord wouldn't drive him; he'd send a man. And they keep stopping +and pointing and looking round. No, it isn't the railroad, it's scenery. +And what can a man like that want with scenery? + +"He does look like a railroad man. It may be tunnel, but it isn't all +tunnel. When the team came back in the afternoon, Patience was again at +the window; she had heard meantime from Jabez that a city man was +stopping at the Peacock. There he goes, and looking round more than +ever. They've stopped by the bridge and the landlord is pointing out. +It's not tunnel, it's scenery. I tell you, he is a city boarder. +Not that he cares about scenery; it's for his family. City families are +always trying to find a grand new place, and he has heard of Rivervale +and the Peacock Inn. Maybe the tunnel had something to do with it." + +"Why, it's like second sight." + +"No, Patience says it's just judgment. And she generally hits it. +At any rate, the family is here." + +The explanation of their being there--it seemed to Philip providential-- +was very simple. Mr. Mavick had plans about the Hoosac Tunnel that +required him to look at it. Mrs. Mavick took advantage of this to +commission him to look at a little inn in a retired village of which she +had heard, and to report on scenery and climate. Warm days and cool +nights and simplicity was her idea. Mavick reported that the place +seemed made for the family. + +Evelyn was not yet out, but she was very nearly out, and after the late +notoriety Mrs. Mavick dreaded the regular Newport season. And, in the +mood of the moment, she was tired of the Newport palace. She always said +that she liked simplicity--a common failing among people who are not +compelled to observe it. Perhaps she thought she was really fond of +rural life and country ways. As she herself said, + +"If you have a summer cottage at Newport or Lenox, it is necessary to go +off somewhere and rest." And then it would be good for Evelyn to live +out-of-doors and see the real country, and, as for herself, as she looked +in the mirror, "I shall drink milk and go to bed early. Henderson used +to say that a month in New Hampshire made another woman of me." + +Oh, to find a spot where we could be undisturbed, alone and unknown. +That was the program. But Carmen simply could not be anywhere content if +she were unnoticed. It was not so easy to give up daily luxury, and +habits of ease at the expense of attendants, or the ostentation which had +become a second nature. Therefore the "establishment" went along with +her to Rivervale, and the shy, modest little woman, who had dropped down +into the country simplicity that she so dearly loved, greatly enjoyed the +sensation that her coming produced. It needed no effort on her part to +produce the sensation. The carriage, and coachman and footman in livery, +would have been sufficient; and then the idea of one family being rich +enough to take the whole hotel! + +The liveries, the foreign cook in his queer cap and apron, and all the +goings-on at the Peacock were the inexhaustible topic of talk in every +farmhouse for ten miles around. Rivervale was a self-respecting town, +and principled against luxury and self-indulgence, and judged with a just +and severe judgment the world of fashion and of the grasping, wicked +millionaires. And now this world with all its vain show had plumped down +in the midst of them. Those who had traveled and seen the ostentation of +cities smiled a superior smile at the curiosity and wonder exhibited, but +even those who had never seen the like were cautious about letting their +surprise appear. Especially in the presence of fashion and wealth would +the independent American citizen straighten his backbone, reassuring +himself that he was as good as anybody. To be sure, people flew to +windows when the elegant equipage dashed by, and everybody found frequent +occasion to drive or walk past the Peacock Inn. It was only the novelty +of it, in a place that rather lacked novelties. + +And yet there prevailed in the community a vague sense that millions were +there, and a curious expectation of some individual benefit from them. +All the young berry-pickers were unusually active, and poured berries +into the kitchen door of the inn. There was not a housewife who was not +a little more anxious about the product of her churning; not a farmer who +did not think that perhaps cord-wood would rise, that there would be a +better demand for garden "sass," and more market for chickens, and who +did not regard with more interest his promising colt. When he drove to +the village his rig was less shabby and slovenly in appearance. The +young fellows who prided themselves upon a neat buggy and a fast horse +made their turnouts shine, and dashed past the inn with a self-conscious +air. Even the stores began to "slick up" and arrange their miscellaneous +notions more attractively, and one of them boldly put in a window a +placard, "Latest New York Style." When the family went to the +Congregational church on Sunday not the slightest notice was taken of +them--though every woman could have told to the last detail what the +ladies wore--but some of the worshipers were for the first time a little +nervous about the performance of the choir, and the deacons heard the +sermon chiefly with reference to what a city visitor would think of it. + +Mrs. Mavick was quite equal to the situation. In the church she was +devout, in the village she was affable and friendly. She made +acquaintances right and left, and took a simple interest in everybody and +everything. She was on easy terms with the landlord, who declared, +"There is a woman with no nonsense in her." She chatted with the farmers +who stopped at the inn door, she bought things at the stores that she did +not want, and she speedily discovered Aunt Hepsy, and loved to sit with +her in the little shop and pick up the traditions and the gossip of the +neighborhood. And she did not confine her angelic visits to the village. +On one pretense and another she made her way into every farmhouse that +took her fancy, penetrated the kitchens and dairies, and got, as she told +McDonald, into the inner life of the people. + +She must see the grave of Captain Moses Rice. And on this legitimate +errand she one day carried her fluttering attractiveness and patchouly +into the Maitland house. Mrs. Maitland was civil, but no more. Alice +was civil but reserved--a great many people, she said, came to see the +graves in the old orchard. But Mrs. Mavick was not a bit abashed. She +expressed herself delighted with everything. It was such a rest, such a +perfectly lovely country, and everybody was so hospitable! And Aunt +Hepsy had so interested her in the history of the region! But it was +difficult to get her talk responded to. + +However, when Miss Patience came in she made better headway. She had +heard so much of Miss Maitland's apartments. She herself was interested +in decorations. She had tried to do something in her New York home. But +there were so many ideas and theories, and it was so hard to be natural +and artificial at the same time. She had no doubt she could get some new +ideas from Miss Maitland. Would it be asking too much to see her +apartments? She really felt like a stranger nowhere in Rivervale. +Patience was only too delighted, and took her into her museum of natural +history, art, religion, and vegetation. + +"She might have gone to the grave-yard without coming into the house," +Alice remarked. + +"Oh, well," said her mother, "I think she is very amusing. You shouldn't +be so exclusive, Alice." + +"Mother, I do believe she paints." + +With Patience, Mrs. Mavick felt on surer ground. + +"How curious, how very curious and delightful it is! Such knowledge of +nature, such art in arrangement." + +"Oh, I just put them up," said Patience, "as I thought they ought by +rights to be put up." + +"That's it. And you have combined everything here. You have given me an +idea. In our house we have a Japan room, and an Indian room, and a +Chinese room, and an Otaheite, and I don't know what--Egyptian, Greek, +and not one American, not a really American. That is, according to +American ideas, for you have everything in these two rooms. I shall +write to Mr. Mavick." (Mr. Mavick never received the letter.) + +When she came away it was with a profusion of thanks, and repeated +invitations to drop in at the inn. Alice accompanied her to the first +stone that marked the threshold of the side door, and was bowing her +away, when Mr. Philip swung over the fence by the wood-shed, with a shot- +gun on his shoulder, and swinging in his left hand a gray squirrel by its +bushy tail, and was immediately in front of the group. + +"Ah!" involuntarily from Mrs. Mavick. An introduction was inevitable. + +"My cousin, Mr. Burnett, Mrs. Mavick." Philip raised his cap and bowed. + +"A hunter, I see." + +"Hardly, madam. In vacations I like to walk in the woods with a gun." + +"Then you are not--" + +"No," said Philip, smiling, "unfortunately I cannot do this all the +time." + +"You are of the city, then?" + +"With the firm of Hunt, Sharp & Tweedle." + +"Ah, my husband knows them, I believe." + +"I have seen Mr. Mavick," and Philip bowed again. + +"How lucky!" + +Mrs. Mavick had an eye for a fine young fellow--she never denied that +--and Philip's manly figure and easy air were not lost on her. Presently +she said: + +"We are here for a good part of the summer. Mr. Mavick's business keeps +him in the city and we have to poke about a good deal alone. Now, Miss +Alice, I am so glad I have met your cousin. Perhaps he will show us some +of the interesting places and the beauties of the country he knows so +well." And she looked sideways at Philip. + +"Yes, he knows the country," said Alice, without committing herself. + +"I am sure I shall be delighted to do what I can for you whenever you +need my services," said Philip, who had reasons for wishing to know the +Mavicks which Alice did not share. + +"That's so good of you! Excursions, picnics oh, we will arrange. +You must come and help me arrange. And I hope," with a smile to Alice, +"you can persuade your cousin to join us sometimes." + +Alice bowed, they all bowed, and Mrs. Mavick said au revoir, and went +swinging her parasol down the driveway. Then she turned and called back, +"This is the first long walk I have taken." And then she said to +herself, "Rather stiff, except the young man and the queer old maid. But +what a pretty girl the younger must have been ten years ago! These +country flowers!" + + + +XII + +Mrs. Mavick thought herself fortunate in finding, in the social +wilderness of Rivervale, such a presentable young gentleman as Philip. +She had persuaded herself that she greatly enjoyed her simple intercourse +with the inhabitants, and she would have said that she was in deep +sympathy with their lives. No doubt in New York she would relate her +summer adventures as something very amusing, but for the moment this +adaptable woman seemed to herself in a very ingenuous, receptive, and +sympathetic state of mind. Still, there was a limit to the entertaining +power of Aunt Hepsy, which was perceived when she began to repeat her +annals of the neighborhood, and to bring forward again and again the +little nuggets of wisdom which she had evolved in the small circle of her +experience. And similarly Mrs. Mavick became aware that there was a +monotony in the ideas brought forward by the farmers and the farmers' +wives, whether in the kitchen or the best room, which she lighted up by +her gracious presence, that it was possible to be tired of the most +interesting "peculiarities" when once their novelty was exhausted, and +that so-called "characters" in the country fail to satisfy the +requirements of intimate or long companionship. Their world is too +narrowly circumscribed. + +The fact that Philip was a native of the place, and so belonged to a +world that was remote from her own, made her free to seek his aid in +making the summer pass agreeably without incurring any risk of social +obligations. Besides, when she had seen more of him, she experienced a +good deal of pleasure in his company. His foreign travel, his reading, +his life in the city, offered many points of mutual interest, and it was +a relief to her to get out of the narrow range of topics in the +provincial thought, and to have her allusions understood. Philip, on his +part, was not slow to see this, or to perceive that in the higher +intellectual ranges, the serious topics which occupied the attention of +the few cultivated people in the neighborhood, Mrs. Mavick had little +interest or understanding, though there was nothing she did not profess +an interest in when occasion required. Philip was not of a suspicious +nature, and it may not have occurred to him that Mrs. Mavick was simply +amusing herself, as she would do with any agreeable man, young or old, +who fell in her way, and would continue to do so if she reached the age +of ninety. + +On the contrary, it never seemed to occur to Mrs. Mavick, who was +generally suspicious, that Philip was making himself agreeable to the +mother of Evelyn. In her thought Evelyn was still a child, in leading- +strings, and would be till she was formally launched, and the social gulf +between the great heiress and the law clerk and poor writer was simply +impassable. All of which goes to show that the most astute women are not +always the wisest. + +To one person in Rivervale the coming of Mrs. Mavick and her train of +worldliness was unwelcome. It disturbed the peaceful simplicity of the +village, and it was likely to cloud her pleasure in Philip's visit. She +felt that Mrs. Mavick was taking him away from the sweet serenity of +their life, and that in everything she said or did there was an element +of unrest and excitement. She was careful, however, not to show any of +this apprehension to Philip; she showed it only by an increased +affectionate interest in him and his concerns, and in trying to make the +old home more dear to him. Mrs. Mavick was loud in her praise of Alice +to her cousin, and sought to win her confidence, but she was, after all, +a little shy of her, and probably would have characterized her to a city +friend as a sort of virgin in the Bible. + +It so happened that day after day went by without giving Philip anything +more than passing glimpses of Evelyn, when she was driving with her +mother or her governess. Yet Rivervale never seemed so ravishingly +beautiful to all his senses. Surely it was possessed by a spirit of +romance and poetry, which he had never perceived before, and he wasted a +good deal of time in gazing on the river, on the gracious meadows, on the +graceful contours of the hills. When he was a lad, in the tree-top, +there had been something stimulating and almost heroic in the scene, +which awakened his ambition. Now it was the idyllic beauty that took +possession of him, transformed as it was by the presence of a woman, +that supreme interpreter of nature to a youth. And yet scarcely a +woman--rather a vision of a girl, impressible still to all the influences +of such a scene and to the most delicate suggestions of unfolding life. +Probably he did not analyze this feeling, but it was Evelyn he was +thinking of when he admired the landscape, breathed with exhilaration the +fresh air, and watched the white clouds sail along the blue vault; and he +knew that if she were suddenly to leave the valley all the light would go +out of it and the scene would be flat to his eyes and torturing to his +memory. + +Mrs. Mavick he encountered continually in the village. He had taken many +little strolls with her to this or that pretty point of view, they had +exchanged reminiscences of foreign travel, and had dipped a little into +current popular books, so that they had come to be on easy, friendly +terms. Philip's courtesy and deference, and a certain wit and humor of +suggestion applied to ordinary things, put him more and more on a good +footing with her, so much so that she declared to McDonald that really +young Burnett was a genuine "find" in the country. + +It seems a pity that the important events in our lives are so +commonplace. Philip's meeting with Evelyn, so long thought of and +dramatized in his mind, was not in the least as he had imagined it. When +one morning he went to the Peacock Inn at the summons of Mrs. Mavick, in +order to lay out a plan of campaign, he found Evelyn and her governess +seated on the veranda, with their books. It was Evelyn who rose first +and came forward, without, so far as Philip could see, the least +embarrassment of recognition. + +"Mr. Burnett? Mamma will be here in a moment. This is our friend, Miss +McDonald." + +The girl's morning costume was very simple, and in her short walking- +skirt she seemed younger even than in the city. She spoke and moved-- +Philip noticed that--without the least self-consciousness, and she had a +way of looking her interlocutor frankly in the eyes, or, as Philip +expressed it, "flashing" upon him. + +Philip bowed to the governess, and, still standing and waving his hand +towards the river, hoped they liked Rivervale, and then added: + +"I see you can read in the country." + +"We pretend to," said Evelyn, who had resumed her seat and indicated a +chair for Philip, "but the singing of that river, and the bobolinks in +the meadow, and the light on the hills are almost too much for us. Don't +you think, McDonald, it is like Scotland?" + +"It would be," the governess replied, "if it rained when it didn't mist, +and there were moors and heather, and--" + +"Oh, I didn't mean all that, but a feeling like that, sweet and retired +and sort of lonesome?" + +"Perhaps Miss McDonald means," said Philip, "that there isn't much to +feel here except what you see." + +Miss McDonald looked sharply around at Philip and remarked: "Yes, that's +just it. It is very lovely, like almost any outdoors, if you will give +yourself up to it. You remember, Evelyn, how fascinating the Arizona +desert was? But there was a romantic addition to the colored desolation +because the Spaniards and the Jesuits had been there. Now this place +lacks traditions, legends, romance. You have to bring your romance with +you." + +"And that is the reason you read here?" + +"One reason. Especially romances. This charming scenery and the summer +sounds of running water and birds make a nice accompaniment to the +romance." + +"But mamma says," Evelyn interrupted, "there is plenty of legend here, +and tradition and flavor, Indians and early settlers, and even Aunt +Hepsy." + +"Well, I confess they don't appeal to me. And as for Indians, Parkman's +descriptions of those savages made me squirm. And I don't believe there +was much more romance about the early settlers than about their +descendants. Isn't it true, Mr. Burnett, that you must have a human +element to make any country interesting?" + +Philip glanced at Evelyn, whose bright face was kindled with interest in +the discussion, and thought, "Good heavens! if there is not human +interest here, I don't know where to look for it," but he only said: + +"Doubtless." + +"And why don't you writers do something about it? It is literature that +does it, either in Scotland or Judea." + +"Well," said Philip, stoutly, "they are doing something. I could name +half a dozen localities, even sections of country, that travelers visit +with curiosity just because authors have thrown that glamour over them. +But it is hard to create something out of nothing. It needs time." + +"And genius," Miss McDonald interjected. + +"Of course, but it took time to transform a Highland sheep-stealer into a +romantic personage." + +Miss McDonald laughed. "That is true. Take a modern instance. Suppose +Evangeline had lived in this valley! Or some simple Gretchen about whose +simple story all the world is in sympathy!" + +"Or," thought Philip, "some Evelyn." But he replied, looking at Evelyn, +"I believe that any American community usually resents being made the +scene of a romance, especially if it is localized by any approach to +reality." + +"Isn't that the fault mostly of the writer, who vulgarizes his material?" + +"The realists say no. They say that people dislike to see themselves as +they are." + +"Very likely," said Miss McDonald; "no one sees himself as others see +him, and probably the poet who expressed the desire to do so was simply +attitudinizing.--[Robert Burns: "Oh! wha gift the Giftie gie us; to see +o'rselves as others see us. D.W.]--By the way, Mr. Burnett, you know +there is one place of sentiment, religious to be sure, not far from here. +I hope we can go some day to see the home of the 'Mountain Miller.'" + +"Yes, I know the place. It is beyond the river, up that steep road +running into the sky, in the next adjoining hill town. I doubt if you +find any one there who lays it much to heart. But you can see the mill." + +"What is the Mountain Miller?" asked Evelyn. + +"A tract that, when I was a girl," answered Miss McDonald, "used to be +bound up with 'The Dairyman's Daughter' and 'The Shepherd of Salisbury +Plain.' It was the first thing that interested me in New England." + +"Well," said Philip, "it isn't much. Just a tract. But it was written +by Parson Halleck, a great minister and a sort of Pope in this region for +fifty years. It is, so far as I know, the only thing of his that +remains." + +This tractarian movement was interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Mavick. + +"Good-morning, Mr. Burnett. I've been down to see Jenkins about his +picnic wagon. Carries six, besides the driver and my man, and the +hampers. So, you see, Miss Alice will have to go. We couldn't go +rattling along half empty. I'll go up and see her this afternoon. +So, that's settled. Now about the time and place. You are the director. +Let's sit down and plan it out. It looks like good weather for a week." + +"Miss McDonald says she wants to see the Mountain Miller," said Philip, +with a smile. + +"What's that? A monument like your Pulpit Rock?" + +"No, a tract about a miller." + +"Ah, something religious. I never heard of it. Well, perhaps we had +better begin with something secular, and work round to that." + +So an excursion was arranged for the next day. And as Philip walked +home, thinking how brilliant Evelyn had been in their little talk, +he began to dramatize the excursion. + +All excursions are much alike, exhilarating in the outset, rarely up to +expectation in the object, wearisome in the return; but, nevertheless, +delightful in the memory, especially if attended with some hardship or +slight disaster. To be free, in the open air, and for a day +unconventional and irresponsible, is the sufficient justification of a +country picnic; but its common attraction is in the opportunity for +bringing young persons of the opposite sex into natural and unrestrained +relations. To Philip it was the first time in his life that a picnic had +ever seemed a defensible means of getting rid of a day. + +The two persons to whom this excursion was most novel and exciting were +Evelyn and the elder maiden, Alice, who sat together and speedily +developed a sympathy with each other in the enjoyment of the country, and +in a similar poetic temperament, very shy on the part of Alice and very +frank on the part of Evelyn. The whole wild scene along the river was +quite as novel to Alice as to the city girl, because, although she was +familiar with every mile of it and had driven through it a hundred times, +she had never in all her life before, of purpose, gone to see it. No +doubt she had felt its wildness and beauty, but now for the first time +she looked at it as scenery, as she might have looked at a picture in a +gallery. And in the contagion of Evelyn's outspoken enthusiasm she was +no longer afraid to give timid expression to the latent poetry in her own +soul. And daring to express this, she seemed to herself for the first +time to realize vividly the nobility and grace of the landscape. And yet +there was a difference in the appreciation of the two. More widely read +and traveled, Evelyn's imagination took a wider range of comparison and +of admiration, she was appealed to by the large features and the +grandiose effects; while Alice noted more the tenderer aspects, the +wayside flowers and bushes, the exotic-looking plants, which she longed +to domesticate in what might be called the Sunday garden on the terraces +in front of her house. For it is in these little cultivated places by +the door-step, places of dreaming in the summer hours after meeting and +at sunset, that the New England maiden experiences something of that +tender religious sentiment which was not much fed in the barrenness of +the Congregational meeting-house. + +The Pulpit Rock, in the rough pasture land of Zoar, was reached by a +somewhat tedious climb from the lonely farmhouse, in a sheltered nook, +through straggling woods and gray pastures. It was a vast exposed +surface rising at a slight angle out of the grass and undergrowth. Along +the upper side was a thin line of bushes, and, pushing these aside, the +observer was always startled at the unexpected scene--as it were the +raising of a curtain upon another world. He stood upon the edge of a +sheer precipice of a thousand feet, and looked down upon a green +amphitheatre through the bottom of which the brawling river, an amber +thread in the summer foliage, seemed trying to get an outlet from this +wilderness cul de sac. From the edge of this precipice the first impulse +was to start back in surprise and dread, but presently the observer +became reassured of its stability, and became fascinated by the lonesome +wildness of the scene. + +"Why is it called Pulpit Rock?" asked Mrs. Mavick; "I see no pulpit." + +"I suppose," said Philip, "the name was naturally suggested to a +religious community, whose poetic images are mainly Biblical, and who +thought it an advantageous place for a preacher to stand, looking down +upon a vast congregation in the amphitheatre." + +"So it is," exclaimed Evelyn. "I can see John the Baptist standing here +now, and hear his voice crying in the wilderness." + +"Very likely," said Mrs. Mavick, persisting in her doubt, "of course in +Zoar. Anywhere else in the world it would be called the Lover's Leap." + +"That is odd," said Alice; "there was a party of college girls came here +two years ago and made up a story about it which was printed, how an +Indian maiden pursued by a white man ran up this hill as if she had been +a deer, disappeared from his sight through these bushes, and took the +fatal leap. They called it the Indian Maiden's Rock. But it didn't +take. It will always be Pulpit Rock." + +"So you see, Miss McDonald," said Philip, "that writers cannot graft +legends on the old stock." + +"That depends upon the writer," returned the Scotch woman, shortly. "I +didn't see the schoolgirl's essay." + +When the luncheon was disposed of, with the usual adaptation to nomadic +conditions, and the usual merriment and freedom of personal comment, and +the wit that seems so brilliant in the open air and so flat in print, +Mrs. Mavick declared that she was tired by the long climb and the unusual +excitement. + +"Perhaps it is the Pulpit," she said, "but I am sleepy; and if you young +people will amuse yourselves, I will take a nap under that tree." + +Presently, also, Alice and the governess withdrew to the edge of the +precipice, and Evelyn and Philip were left to the burden of entertaining +each other. It might have been an embarrassing situation but for the +fact that all the rest of the party were in sight, that the girl had not +the least self-consciousness, having had no experience to teach her that +there was anything to be timid about in one situation more than in +another, and that Philip was so absolutely content to be near Evelyn +and hear her voice that there was room for nothing else in his thought. +But rather to his surprise, Evelyn made no talk about the situation +or the day, but began at once with something in her mind, a directness +of mental operation that he found was characteristic of her. + +"It seems to me, Mr. Burnett, that there is something of what Miss +McDonald regards as the lack of legend and romance in this region in our +life generally." + +"I fancy everybody feels that who travels much elsewhere. You mean life +seems a little thin, as the critics say?" + +"Yes, lacks color and background. But, you see, I have no experience. +Perhaps it's owing to Miss McDonald. I cannot get the plaids and tartans +and Jacobins and castles and what-not out of my head. Our landscapes are +just landscapes." + +"But don't you think we are putting history and association into them +pretty fast?" + +"Yes, I know, but that takes a long time. I mean now. Take this lovely +valley and region, how easily it could be made romantic." + +"Not so very easy, I fancy." + +"Well, I was thinking about it last night." And then, as if she saw a +clear connection between this and what she was going to say, "Miss +McDonald says, Mr. Burnett, that you are a writer." + +"I? Why, I'm, I'm--a lawyer." + +"Of course, that's business. That reminds me of what papa said once: +'It's lucky there is so much law, or half the world, including the +lawyers, wouldn't have anything to do, trying to get around it and evade +it.' And you won't mind my repeating it--I was a mite of a girl--I said, +'Isn't that rather sophistical, papa?' And mamma put me down'--It seems +to me, child, you are using pretty big words.'" + +They both laughed. But suddenly Evelyn added: + +"Why don't you do it?" + +"Do what?" + +"Write a story about it--what Miss McDonald calls 'invest the region with +romance.'" + +The appeal was very direct, and it was enforced by those wonderful eyes +that seemed to Philip to discern his powers, as he felt them, and his +ambitions, and to express absolute confidence in him. His vanity was +touched in its most susceptible spot. Here seemed to be a woman, nay, a +soul, who understood him, understood him even better than Celia, the +lifelong confidante. It is a fatal moment for men and women, that in +which they feel the subtle flattery of being understood by one of the +opposite sex. Philip's estimation of himself rose 'pari passu' with his +recognition of the discernment and intellectual quality of the frank and +fascinating girl who seemed to believe in him. But he restrained himself +and only asked, after a moment of apparent reflection upon the general +proposition: + +"Well, Miss Mavick, you have been here some time. Have you discovered +any material for such use?" + +"Why, perhaps not, and I might not know what to do with it if I had. But +perhaps you don't mean what I mean. I mean something fitting the +setting. Not the domestic novel. Miss McDonald says we are vulgarized +in all our ideals by so much domesticity. She says that Jennie Deans +would have been just an ordinary, commonplace girl but for Walter Scott." + +"Then you want a romance?" + +"No. I don't know exactly what I do want. But I know it when I see it." +And Evelyn looked down and appeared to be studying her delicate little +hands, interlacing her taper, ivory fingers--but Philip knew she did not +see them--and then looked up in his face again and said: + +"I'll tell you. This morning as we came up I was talking all the way +with your cousin. It took some time to break the ice, but gradually she +began to say things, half stories, half poetic, not out of books; things +that, if said with assurance, in the city would be called wit. And then +I began to see her emotional side, her pure imagination, such a +refinement of appreciation and justice--I think there is an immovable +basis of justice in her nature--and charity, and I think she'd be heroic, +with all her gentleness, if occasion offered." + +"I see," said Philip, rather lightly, "that you improved your time in +finding out what a rare creature Alice is. But," and this more gravely, +"it would surprise her that you have found it out." + +"I believe you. I fancy she has not the least idea what her qualities +are, or her capacities of doing or of suffering, and the world will never +know--that is the point-unless some genius comes along and reveals them." + +"How?" + +"Why, through a tragedy, a drama, a story, in which she acts out her +whole self. Some act it out in society. She never will. Such sweetness +and strength and passion--yes, I have no doubt, passion under all the +reserve! I feel it but I cannot describe it; I haven't imagination to +make you see what I feel." + +"You come very near it," said Philip, with a smile. And after a moment +the girl broke out again: + +"Materials! You writers go searching all round for materials, just as +painters do, fit for your genius." + +"But don't you know that the hardest thing to do is the obvious, the +thing close to you?" + +"I dare say. But you won't mind? It is just an illustration. I went +the other day with mother to Alice's house. She was so sort of distant +and reserved that I couldn't know her in the least as I know her now. +And there was the rigid Puritan, her father, representing the Old +Testament; and her placid mother, with all the spirit of the New +Testament; and then that dear old maiden aunt, representing I don't know +what, maybe a blind attempt through nature and art to escape out of +Puritanism; and the typical old frame farmhouse--why, here is material +for the sweetest, most pathetic idyl. Yes, the Story of Alice. In +another generation people would come long distances to see the valley +where Alice lived, and her spirit would pervade it." + +There could be but one end to such a burst of enthusiasm, and both +laughed and felt a relief in a merriment that was, after all, +sympathetic. But Evelyn was a persistent creature, and presently she +turned to Philip, again with those appealing eyes. + +"Now, why don't you do it?" + +Philip hesitated a moment and betrayed some embarrassment under the +questioning of the truthful eyes. + +"I've a good mind to tell you. I have--I am writing something." + +"Yes?" + +"Not that exactly. I couldn't, don't you see, betray and use my own +relatives in that way." + +"Yes, I see that." + +"It isn't much. I cannot tell how it will come out. I tell you--I don't +mean that I have any right to ask you to keep it as a secret of mine, but +it is this way: If a writer gives away his imagination, his idea, before +it is fixed in form on paper, he seems to let the air of all the world +upon it and it disappears, and isn't quite his as it was before to grow +in his own mind." + +"I can understand that," Evelyn replied. + +"Well--" and Philip found himself launched. It is so easy to talk about +one's self to a sympathetic listener. He told Evelyn a little about his +life, and how the valley used to seem to him as a boy, and how it seemed +now that he had had experience of other places and people, and how his +studies and reading had enabled him to see things in their proper +relations, and how, finally, gradually the idea for a story in this +setting had developed in his mind. And then he sketched in outline +the story as he had developed it, and left the misty outlines of its +possibilities to the imagination. + +The girl listened with absorbing interest, and looked the approval which +she did not put in words. Perhaps she knew that a bud will never come to +flower if you pull it in pieces. When Philip had finished he had a +momentary regret for this burst of confidence, which he had never given +to any one else. But in the light of Evelyn's quick approval and +understanding, it was only momentary. Perhaps neither of them thought +what a dangerous game this is, for two young souls to thus unbosom +themselves to each other. + +A call from Mrs. Mavick brought them to their feet. It was time to go. +Evelyn simply said: + +"I think the valley, Mr. Burnett, looks a little different already." + +As they drove home along the murmuring river through the golden sunset, +the party were mostly silent. Only Mrs. Mavick and Philip, who sat +together, kept up a lively chatter, lively because Philip was elated with +the event of the day, and because the nap under the beech-tree in the +open air had brightened the wits of one of the cleverest women Philip had +ever met. + +If the valley did seem different to Evelyn, probably she did not think so +far as to own to herself whether this was owing to the outline of the +story, which ran in her mind, or to the presence of the young author. + +Alice and Philip were set down at the farmhouse, and the company parted +with mutual enthusiasm over the success of the excursion. + +"She is a much more interesting girl than I thought," Alice admitted. +"Not a bit fashionable." + +"And she likes you." + +"Me?" + +"Yes, your ears would have burned." + +"Well, I am glad, for I think she is sincere." + +"And I can tell you another thing. I had a long talk while you were +taking your siesta. She takes an abstract view of things, judging the +right and wrong of them, without reference to conventionalities or the +practical obstacles to carrying out her ideas, as if she had been +educated by reading and not by society. It is very interesting." + +"Philip," and Alice laid her hand on his shoulder, "don't let it be too +interesting." + + + + +XIII + +When Philip said that Evelyn was educated in the world of literature and +not in the conflicts of life he had hit the key-note of her condition at +the moment she was coming into the world and would have to act for +herself. The more he saw of her the more was he impressed with the fact +that her discrimination, it might almost be called divination, and her +judgment were based upon the best and most vital products of the human +mind. A selection had evidently been made for her, until she had +acquired the taste, or the habit rather, of choosing only the best for +herself. Very little of the trash of literature, or the ignoble--that is +to say, the ignoble view of life-- had come into her mind. Consequently +she judged the world as she came to know it by high standards. And her +mind was singularly pure and free from vulgar images. + +It might be supposed that this sort of education would have its +disadvantages. The word is firmly fixed in the idea that both for its +pleasure and profit it is necessary to know good and evil. Ignorance of +the evil in the world is, however, not to be predicated of those who are +familiar only with the great masterpieces of literature, for if they are +masterpieces, little or great, they exhibit human nature in all its +aspects. And, further than this, it ought to be demonstrable, a priori, +that a mind fed on the best and not confused by the weak and diluted, or +corrupted by images of the essentially vulgar and vile, would be morally +healthy and best fitted to cope with the social problems of life. The +Testaments reveal about everything that is known about human nature, but +such is their clear, high spirit, and their quality, that no one ever +traced mental degeneration or low taste in literature, or want of +virility in judgment, to familiarity with them. On the contrary, the +most vigorous intellects have acknowledged their supreme indebtedness to +them. + +It is not likely that Philip made any such elaborate analysis of the girl +with whom he was in love, or attempted, except by a general reference to +the method of her training, to account for the purity of her mind and her +vigorous discernment. He was in love with her more subtle and hidden +personality, with the girl just becoming a woman, with the mysterious sex +that is the inspiration of most of the poetry and a good part of the +heroism in the world. And he would have been in love with her, let her +education have been what it might. He was in love before he heard her +speak. And whatever she would say was bound to have a quality of +interest and attraction that could be exercised by no other lips. It +might be argued--a priori again, for the world is bound to go on in its +own way--that there would be fewer marriages if the illusion of the sex +did not suffice for the time to hide intellectual poverty, and, what is +worse, ignobleness of disposition. + +It was doubtless fortunate for this particular lovemaking, though it did +not seem so to Philip, that it was very much obstructed by lack of +opportunities, and that it was not impaired in its lustre by too much +familiarity. In truth, Philip would have said that he saw very little of +Evelyn, because he never saw her absolutely alone. To be sure he was +much in her presence, a welcome member of the group that liked to idle on +the veranda of the inn, and in the frequent excursions, in which Philip +seemed to be the companion of Mrs. Mavick rather than of her daughter. +But she was never absent from his thought, his imagination was wholly +captive to her image, and the passion grew in these hours of absence +until she became an indispensable associate in all that he was or could +ever hope to be. Alice, who discerned very clearly Mrs. Mavick and her +ambition, was troubled by Philip's absorption and the cruel +disappointment in store for him. To her he was still the little boy, and +all her tenderness for him was stirred to shield him from the suffering +she feared. + +But what could she do? Philip liked to talk about Evelyn, to dwell upon +her peculiarities and qualities, to hear her praised; to this extent he +was confidential with his cousin, but never in regard to his own feeling. +That was a secret concerning which he was at once too humble and too +confident to share with any other. None knew better than he the absurd +presumption of aspiring to the hand of such a great heiress, and yet he +nursed the vanity that no other man could ever appreciate and love her as +he did. + +Alice was still more distracted and in sympathy with Philip's evident +aspirations by her own love for Evelyn and her growing admiration for the +girl's character. It so happened that mutual sympathy--who can say how +it was related to Philip?--had drawn them much together, and chance had +given them many opportunities for knowing each other. Alice had so far +come out of her shell, and broken the reserve of her life, as to make +frequent visits at the inn, and Mrs. Mavick and Evelyn found it the most +natural and agreeable stroll by the river-side to the farmhouse, +where naturally, while the mother amused herself with the original +eccentricities of Patience, her daughter grew into an intimacy with +Alice. + +As for the feelings of Evelyn in these days--her first experience of +something like freedom in the world--the historian has only universal +experience to guide him. In her heart was working the consciousness that +she had been singled out as worthy to share the confidence of a man in +his most secret ambitions and aspirations, in the dreams of youth which +seemed to her so noble. For these aspirations and dreams concerned the +world in which she had lived most and felt most. + +If Philip had talked to her as he had to Celia about his plans for +success in life she would have been less interested. But there was +nothing to warn her personally in these unworldly confessions. Nor did +Philip ever seem to ask anything of her except sympathy in his ideas. +And then there was the friendship of Alice, which could not but influence +the girl. In the shelter of that the intercourse of the summer took on +natural relations. For some natures there is no nurture of love like the +security of family protection, under cover of which there is so little to +excite the alarm of a timid maiden. + +It was fortunate for Philip that Miss McDonald took a liking to him. +They were thrown much together. They were both good walkers, and liked +to climb the hills and explore the wild mountain streams. Philip would +have confessed that he was fond of nature, and fancied there was a sort +of superiority in his attitude towards it to that of his companion, who +was merely interested in plants-just a botanist. This attitude, which +she perceived, amused Miss McDonald. + +"If you American students," she said one day when they were seated on a +fallen tree in the forest, and she was expatiating on a rare plant she +had found, "paid no more attention to the classics than to the world you +live in, few of you would get a degree." + +"Oh, some fellows go in for that sort of thing," Philip replied. +"But I have noticed that all English women have some sort of fad--plants, +shells, birds, something special." + +"Fad!" exclaimed the Scotchwoman. "Yes, I suppose it is, if reading is a +fad. It is one way of finding out about things. You admire what the +Americans call scenery; we, since you provoke me to say it, love nature-- +I mean its individual, almost personal manifestations. Every plant has a +distinct character of its own. I saw the other day an American landscape +picture with a wild, uncultivated foreground. There was not a botanical +thing in it. The man who painted it didn't know a sweetbrier from a +thistle. + +"Just a confused mass of rubbish. It was as if an animal painter should +compose a group and you could not tell whether it was made up of sheep or +rabbits or dogs or foxes or griffins." + +"So you want things picked out like a photograph?" + +"I beg your pardon, I want nature. You cannot give character to a bit of +ground in a landscape unless you know the characters of its details. A +man is no more fit to paint a landscape than a cage of monkeys, unless he +knows the language of the nature he is dealing with down to the alphabet. +The Japanese know it so well that they are not bothered with minutia, but +give you character." + +"And you think that science is an aid to art?" + +"Yes, if there is genius to transform it into art. You must know the +intimate habits of anything you paint or write about. You cannot even +caricature without that. They talk now about Dickens being just a +caricaturist. He couldn't have been that if he hadn't known the things +he caricatured. That is the reason there is so little good caricature." + +"Isn't your idea of painting rather anatomical?" Philip ventured to ask. + +"Do you think that if Raphael had known nothing of anatomy the world +would have accepted his Sistine Madonna for the woman she is?" was the +retort. + +"I see it is interesting," said Philip, shifting his ground again, "but +what is the real good of all these botanical names and classifications?" + +Miss McDonald gave a weary sigh. "Well, you must put things in order. +You studied philology in Germany? The chief end of that is to trace the +development, migration, civilization of the human race. To trace the +distribution of plants is another way to find out about the race. But +let that go. Don't you think that I get more pleasure in looking at all +the growing things we see, as we sit here, than you do in seeing them and +knowing as little about them as you pretend to?" + +Philip said that he could not analyze the degree of pleasure in such +things, but he seemed to take his ignorance very lightly. What +interested him in all this talk was that, in discovering the mind of the +governess, he was getting nearer to the mind of her pupil. And finally +he asked (and Miss McDonald smiled, for she knew what this conversation, +like all others with him, must ultimately come to): + +"Does the Mavick family also take to botany?" + +"Oh yes. Mrs. Mavick is intimate with all the florists in New York. And +Miss Evelyn, when I take home these specimens, will analyze them and tell +all about them. She is very sharp about such things. You must have +noticed that she likes to be accurate?" + +"But she is fond of poetry." + +"Yes, of poetry that she understands. She has not much of the emotional +vagueness of many young girls." + +All this was very delightful for Philip, and for a long time, on one +pretext or another, he kept the conversation revolving about this point. +He fancied he was very deep in doing this. To his interlocutor he was, +however, very transparent. And the young man would have been surprised +and flattered if he had known how much her indulgence of him in this talk +was due to her genuine liking for him. + +When they returned to the inn, Mrs. Mavick began to rally Philip about +his feminine taste in woodsy things. He would gladly have thrown botany +or anything else overboard to win the good opinion of Evelyn's mother, +but botany now had a real significance and a new meaning for him. +Therefore he put in a defense, by saying: + +"Botany, in the hands of Miss McDonald, cannot be called very feminine; +it is a good deal more difficult to understand and master than law." + +"Maybe that's the reason," said Mrs. Mavick, "why so many more girls are +eager to study law now than botany." + +"Law?" cried Evelyn; "and to practice?" + +"Certainly. Don't you think that a bright, clever woman, especially if +she were pretty, would have an advantage with judge and jury?" + +"Not if judge and jury were women," Miss McDonald interposed. + +"And you remember Portia?" Mrs. Mavick continued. + +"Portia," said Evelyn; "yes, but that is poetry; and, McDonald, wasn't it +a kind of catch? How beautifully she talked about mercy, but she turned +the sharp edge of it towards the Jew. I didn't like that." + +"Yes," Miss McDonald replied, "it was a kind of trick, a poet's law. +What do you say, Mr. Burnett?" + +"Why," said Philip, hesitating, "usually it is understood when a man buys +or wins anything that the appurtenances necessary to give him full +possession go with it. Only in this case another law against the Jew was +understood. It was very clever, nothing short of woman's wit." + +"Are there any women in your firm, Mr. Burnett?" asked Mrs. Mavick. + +"Not yet, but I think there are plenty of lawyers who would be willing to +take Portia for a partner." + +"Make her what you call a consulting partner. That is just the way with +you men--as soon as you see women succeeding in doing anything +independently, you head them off by matrimony." + +"Not against their wills," said the governess, with some decision. + +"Oh, the poor things are easily hypnotized. And I'm glad they are. The +funniest thing is to hear the Woman's Rights women talk of it as a state +of subjection," and Mrs. Mavick laughed out of her deep experience. + +"Rights, what's that?" asked Evelyn. + +"Well, child, your education has been neglected. Thank McDonald for +that." + +"Don't you know, Evelyn," the governess explained, "that we have always +said that women had a right to have any employment, or do anything they +were fitted to do?" + +"Oh, that, of course; I thought everybody said that. That is natural. +But I mean all this fuss. I guess I don't understand what you all are +talking about." And her bright face broke out of its look of perplexity +into a smile. + +"Why, poor thing," said her mother, "you belong to the down-trodden sex. +Only you haven't found it out." + +"But, mamma," and the girl seemed to be turning the thing over in her +mind, as was her wont with any new proposition, "there seem to be in +history a good many women who never found it out either." + +"It is not so now. I tell you we are all in a wretched condition." + +"You look it, mamma," replied Evelyn, who perfectly understood when her +mother was chaffing. + +"But I think I don't care so much for the lawyers," Mrs. Mavick +continued, with more air of conviction; "what I can't stand are the +doctors, the female doctors. I'd rather have a female priest about me +than a female doctor." + +This was not altogether banter, for there had been times in Carmen's +career when the externals of the Roman Church attracted her, and she +wished she had an impersonal confidant, to whom she could confess--well, +not everything-and get absolution. And she could make a kind of +confidant of a sympathetic doctor. But she went on: + +"To have a sharp woman prying into all my conditions and affairs! No, +I thank you. Don't you think so, McDonald?" + +"They do say," the governess admitted, "that women doctors haven't as +much consideration for women's whims as men." And, after a moment, she +continued: + +"But, for all that, women ought to understand about women better than men +can, and be the best doctors for them." + +"So it seems to me," said Evelyn, appealing to her mother. "Don't you +remember that day you took me down to the infirmary in which you are +interested, and how nice it was, nobody but women for doctors and nurses +and all that? Would you put that in charge of men?" + +"Oh, you child!" cried Mrs. Mavick, turning to her daughter and patting +her on the head. "Of course there are exceptions. But I'm not going to +be one of the exceptions. Ah, well, I suppose I am quite behind the age; +but the conduct of my own sex does get on my nerves sometimes." + +Evelyn was silent. She was often so when discussions arose. They were +apt to plunge her into deep thought. To those who knew her history, +guarded from close contact with anything but the world of ideas, it was +very interesting to watch her mental attitude as she was day by day +emerging into a knowledge of the actual world and encountering its +crosscurrents. To Philip, who was getting a good idea of what her +education had been, an understanding promoted by his knowledge of the +character and attainments of her governess, her mental processes, it may +be safely said, opened a new world of thought. Not that mental processes +made much difference to a man in his condition, still, they had the +effect of setting her personality still further apart from that of other +women. One day when they happened to be tete-a-tete in one of their +frequent excursions--a rare occasion--Evelyn had said: + +"How strange it is that so many things that are self-evident nobody seems +to see, and that there are so many things that are right that can't be +done." + +"That is the way the world is made," Philip had replied. She was +frequently coming out with the sort of ideas and questions that are often +proposed by bright children, whose thinking processes are not only fresh +but undisturbed by the sophistries or concessions that experience has +woven into the thinking of our race. "Perhaps it hasn't your faith in +the abstract." + +"Faith? I wonder. Do you mean that people do not dare go ahead and do +things?" + +"Well, partly. You see, everybody is hedged in by circumstances." + +"Yes. I do begin to see circumstances. I suppose I'm a sort of a goose +--in the abstract, as you say." And Evelyn laughed. It was the +spontaneous, contagious laugh of a child. "You know that Miss McDonald +says I'm nothing but a little idealist." + +"Did you deny it?" + +"Oh, no. I said, so were the Apostles, all save one--he was a realist." + +It was Philip's turn to laugh at this new definition, and upon this the +talk had drifted into the commonplaces of the summer situation and about +Rivervale and its people. Philip regretted that his vacation would so +soon be over, and that he must say good-by to all this repose and beauty, +and to the intercourse that had been so delightful to him. + +"But you will write," Evelyn exclaimed. + +Philip was startled. + +"Write?" + +"Yes, your novel." + +"Oh, I suppose so," without any enthusiasm. + +"You must. I keep thinking of it. What a pleasure it must be to create +a real drama of life." + +So this day on the veranda of the inn when Philip spoke of his hateful +departure next day, and there was a little chorus of protest, Evelyn was +silent; but her silence was of more significance to him than the +protests, for he knew her thoughts were on the work he had promised to go +on with. + +"It is too bad," Mrs. Mavick exclaimed; "we shall be like a lot of sheep +without a shepherd." + +"That we shall," the governess joined in. "At any rate, you must make us +out a memorandum of what is to be seen and done and how to do it." + +"Yes," said Philip, gayly, "I'll write tonight a complete guide to +Rivervale." + +"We are awfully obliged to you for what you have done." Mrs. Mavick was +no doubt sincere in this. And she added, "Well, we shall all be back in +the city before long." + +It was a natural thing to say, and Philip understood that there was no +invitation in it, more than that of the most conventional acquaintance. +For Mrs. Mavick the chapter was closed. + +There were the most cordial hand-shakings and good-bys, and Philip said +good-by as lightly as anybody. But as he walked along the road he knew, +or thought he was sure, that the thoughts of one of the party were going +along with him into his future, and the peaceful scene, the murmuring +river, the cat-birds and the blackbirds calling in the meadow, and the +spirit of self-confident youth in him said not good-by, but au revoir. + + + + +XIV + +Of course Philip wrote to Celia about his vacation intimacy with the +Mavicks. It was no news to her that the Mavicks were spending the summer +there; all the world knew that, and society wondered what whim of +Carmen's had taken her out of the regular summer occupations and immured +her in the country. Not that it gave much thought to her, but, when her +name was mentioned, society resented the closing of the Newport house and +the loss of her vivacity in the autumn at Lenox. She is such a hand to +set things going, don't you know? Mr. Mavick never made a flying visit +to his family--and he was in Rivervale twice during the season--that the +newspapers did not chronicle his every movement, and attribute other +motives than family affection to these excursions into New England. Was +the Central system or the Pennsylvania system contemplating another raid? +It could not be denied that the big operator's connection with any great +interest raised suspicion and often caused anxiety. + +Naturally, thought Celia, in such a little village, Philip would fall in +with the only strangers there, so that he was giving her no news in +saying so. But there was a new tone in his letters; she detected an +unusual reserve that was in itself suspicious. Why did he say so much +about Mrs. Mavick and the governess, and so little about the girl? + +"You don't tell me," she wrote," anything about the Infant Phenomenon. +And you know I am dying to know." + +This Philip resented. Phenomenon! The little brown girl, with eyes that +saw so much and were so impenetrably deep, and the mobile face, so alert- +and responsive. If ever there was a natural person, it was Evelyn. So +he wrote: + +"There is nothing to tell; she is not an infant and she is not a +phenomenon. Only this: she has less rubbish in her mind than any person +you ever saw. And I guess the things she does not know about life are +not worth knowing." + +"I see," replied Celia; "poor boy! it's the moth and the star. [That's +just like her, muttered Philip, she always assumed to be the older.] But +don't mind. I've come to the conclusion that I am a moth myself, and +some of the lights I used to think stars have fallen. And, seriously, +dear friend, I am glad there is a person who does not know the things not +worth knowing. It is a step in the right direction. I have been this +summer up in the hills, meditating. And I am not so sure of things as I +was. I used to think that all women needed was what is called education- +-science, history, literature--and you could safely turn them loose on +the world. It certainly is not safe to turn them loose without +education--but I begin to wonder what we are all coming to. I don't mind +telling you that I have got into a pretty psychological muddle, and I +don't see much to hold on to. + +"I suppose that Scotch governess is pious; I mean she has a backbone of +what they call dogma; things are right or wrong in her mind--no haziness. +Now, I am going to make a confession. I've been thinking of religion. +Don't mock. You know I was brought up religious, and I am religious. I +go to church--well, you know how I feel and especially the things I don't +believe. I go to church to be entertained. I read the other day that +Cardinal Manning said: 'The three greatest evils in the world today are +French devotional books, theatrical music, and the pulpit orator. And +the last is the worst.' I wonder. I often feel as if I had been to a +performance. No. It is not about sin that I am especially thinking, but +the sinner. One ought to do something. Sometimes I think I ought to go +to the city. You know I was in a College Settlement for a while. Now I +mean something permanent, devoted to the poor as a life occupation, like +a nun or something of that sort. You think this is a mood? Perhaps. +There have always been so many things before me to do, and I wanted to do +them all. And I do not stick to anything? You must not presume to say +that, because I confide to you all my errant thoughts. You have not +confided in me--I don't insinuate that you have anything to confide but I +cannot help saying that if you have found a pure and clear-minded girl-- +Heaven knows what she will be when she is a woman I--I am sorry she is +not poor." + +But if Philip did not pour out his heart to his old friend, he did open a +lively and frequent correspondence with Alice. Not about the person who +was always in his thoughts--oh, no--but about himself, and all he was +doing, in the not unreasonable expectation that the news would go where +he could not send it directly--so many ingenious ways has love of +attaining its object. And if Alice, no doubt, understood all this, she +was nevertheless delighted, and took great pleasure in chronicling the +news of the village and giving all the details that came in her way about +the millionaire family. This connection with the world, if only by +correspondence, was an outlet to her reserved and secluded life. And her +letters recorded more of her character, of her feeling, than he had known +in all his boyhood. When Alice mentioned, as it were by chance, that +Evelyn had asked, more than once, when she had spoken of receiving +letters, if her cousin was going on with his story, Philip felt that +the connection was not broken. + +Going on with his story he was, and with good heart. The thought that +"she" might some day read it was inspiration enough. Any real creation, +by pen or brush or chisel, must express the artist and be made in +independence of the demands of a vague public. Art is vitiated when the +commercial demand, which may be a needed stimulus, presides at the +creation. But it is doubtful if any artist in letters, or in form or +color, ever did anything well without having in mind some special person, +whose approval was desired or whose criticism was feared. Such is the +universal need of human sympathy. It is, at any rate, true that Philip's +story, recast and reinspired, was thenceforth written under the spell of +the pure divining eyes of Evelyn Mavick. Unconsciously this was so. For +at this time Philip had not come to know that the reason why so many +degraded and degrading stories and sketches are written is because the +writers' standard is the approval of one or two or a group of persons of +vitiated tastes and low ideals. + +The Mavicks did not return to town till late in the autumn. By this time +Philip's novel had been submitted to a publisher, or, rather, to state +the exact truth, it had begun to go the rounds of the publishers. Mr. +Brad, to whose nineteenth-century and newspaper eye Philip had shrunk +from confiding his modest creation, but who was consulted in the +business, consoled him with the suggestion that this was a sure way of +getting his production read. There was already in the city a +considerable body of professional "readers," mostly young men and women, +to whom manuscripts were submitted by the publishers, so that the author +could be sure, if he kept at it long enough, to get a pretty fair +circulation for his story. They were selected because they were good +judges of literature and because they had a keen appreciation of what the +public wanted at the moment. Many of them are overworked, naturally so, +in the mass of manuscripts turned over to their inspection day after day, +and are compelled often to adopt the method of tea-tasters, who sip but +do not swallow, for to drink a cup or two of the decoction would spoil +their taste and impair their judgment, especially on new brands. Philip +liked to imagine, as the weeks passed away--the story is old and need not +be retold here--that at any given hour somebody was reading him. He did +not, however, dwell with much delight upon this process, for the idea +that some unknown Rhadamanthus was sitting in judgment upon him much more +wounded his 'amour propre', and seemed much more like an invading of his +inner, secret life and feeling, than would be an instant appeal to the +general public. Why, he thought, it is just as if I had shown it to Brad +himself--apiece of confidence that he could not bring himself to. He did +not know that Brad himself was a reader for a well-known house--which had +employed him on the strength of his newspaper notoriety--and that very +likely he had already praised the quality of the work and damned it as +lacking "snap." + +It was, however, weary waiting, and would have been intolerable if his +duties in the law office had not excluded other thoughts from his mind a +good part of the time. There were days when he almost resolved to +confine himself to the solid and remunerative business of law, and give +up the vague aspirations of authorship. But those vague aspirations were +in the end more enticing than the courts. Common-sense is not an +antidote to the virus of the literary infection when once a young soul +has taken it. In his long walks it was not on the law that Philip was +ruminating, nor was the fame of success in it occupying his mind. +Suppose he could write one book that should touch the heart of the world. +Would he exchange the sweetness of that for the fleeting reputation of +the most brilliant lawyer? In short, he magnified beyond all reason the +career and reputation of the author, and mistook the consideration he +occupies in the great world. And what a world it would be if there had +not been a continuous line of such mistaken fools as he! + +That it was not literature alone that inflated his dreams was evidenced +by the direction his walks took. Whatever their original destination or +purpose, he was sure to pass through upper Fifth Avenue, and walk by the +Mavick mansion. And never without a lift in his spirits. What comfort +there is to a lover in gazing at the blank and empty house once occupied +by his mistress has never been explained; but Philip would have counted +the day lost in which he did not see it. + +After he heard from Alice that the Mavicks had returned, the house had +still stronger attractions for him, for there was added the chance of a +glimpse of Evelyn or one of the family. Many a day passed, however, +before he mustered up courage to mount the steps and touch the button. + +"Yes, sir," said the servant, "the family is returned, but they is +h'out." + +Philip left his card. But nothing came of it, and he did not try again. +In fact, he was a little depressed as the days went by. How much doubt +and anxiety, even suffering, might have been spared him if the historian +at that moment could have informed him of a little shopping incident at +Tiffany's a few days after the Mavicks' return. + +A middle-aged lady and a young girl were inspecting some antiques. The +girl, indeed, had been asking for ancient coins, and they were shown two +superb gold staters with the heads of Alexander and Philip. + +"Aren't they beautiful?" said the younger. "How lovely one would be for +a brooch!" + +"Yes, indeed," replied the elder, "and quite in the line of our Greek +reading." + +The girl held them in her hand and looked at one and the other with a +student's discrimination. + +"Which would you choose?" + +"Oh, both are fine. Philip of Macedon has a certain youthful freshness, +in the curling hair and uncovered head. But, of course, Alexander the +Great is more important, and then there is the classic casque. I should +take the Alexander." The girl still hesitated, weighing the choice in +her mind from the classic point of view. + +"Doubtless you are right. But"--and she held up the lovely head--"this +is not quite so common, and--and--I think I'll take the Macedon one. +Yes, you may set that for me," turning to the salesman. + +"Diamonds or pearls?" asked the jeweler. + +"Oh, dear, no!" exclaimed the girl; "just the head." + +Evelyn's education was advancing. For the first time in her life she had +something to conceal. The privilege of this sort of secret is, however, +an inheritance of Eve. The first morning she wore it at breakfast Mrs. +Mavick asked her what it was. + +"It's a coin, antique Greek," Evelyn replied, passing it across the +table. + +"How pretty it is; it is very pretty. Ought to have pearls around it. +Seems to be an inscription on it." + +"Yes, it is real old. McDonald says it is a stater, about the same as a +Persian daric-something like the value of a sovereign." + +"Oh, indeed; very interesting." + +To give Evelyn her due, it must be confessed that she blushed at this +equivocation about the inscription, and she got quite hot with shame +thinking what would become of her if Philip should ever know that she was +regarding him as a stater and wearing his name on her breast. + +One can fancy what philosophical deductions as to the education of women +Celia Howard would have drawn out of this coin incident; one of them +doubtless being that a classical education is no protection against love. + +But for Philip's connection with the thriving firm of Hunt, Sharp & +Tweedle, it is safe to say that he would have known little of the world +of affairs in Wall Street, and might never have gained entrance into that +other world, for which Wall Street exists, that society where its wealth +and ambitious vulgarity are displayed. Thomas Mavick was a client of the +firm. At first they had been only associated with his lawyer, and +consulted occasionally. But as time went on Mr. Mavick opened to them +his affairs more and more, as he found the advantage of being represented +to the public by a firm that combined the highest social and +professional standing with all the acumen and adroitness that his +complicated affairs required. + +It was a time of great financial feverishness and uncertainty, and of +opportunity for the most reckless adventurers. Houses the most solid +were shaken and crippled, and those which were much extended in a variety +of adventures were put to their wits' ends to escape shipwreck. +Financial operations are perpetual war. It is easy to calculate about +the regular forces, but the danger is from the unexpected "raids" and the +bushwhackers and guerrillas. And since politics has become inextricably +involved in financial speculations (as it has in real war), the +excitement and danger of business on a large scale increase. + +Philip as a trusted clerk, without being admitted into interior secrets, +came to know a good deal about Mavick's affairs, and to be more than ever +impressed with his enormous wealth and the magnitude of his operations. +From time to time he was sent on errands to Mavick's office, and +gradually, as Mavick became accustomed to him as a representative of the +firm, they came on a somewhat familiar footing, and talked of other +things than business. And Mavick, who was not a bad judge of the +capacities of men, conceived a high idea of Philip's single-mindedness, +of his integrity and general culture, and, as well, of his agreeableness +(for Philip had a certain charm where he felt at ease), while at the same +time he discovered that his mind was more upon something else than law, +and that, if his success in his profession depended upon his adoption of +the business methods of the Street, he could not go very far. +Consequently he did not venture upon the same confidences with him that +he habitually did with Mr. Sharp. Yet, business aside, he had an +intellectual pleasure in exchanging views with Philip which Mr. Sharp's +conversation did not offer him. + +When, therefore, Mrs. Mavick came to consult her husband about the list +for the coming-out reception of Evelyn, Philip found a friend at court. + +"It is all plain enough," said Carmen, as she sat down with book and +pencil in hand, "till you come to the young men, the unattached young +men. Here is my visiting-list, that of course. But for the young ladies +we must have more young men. Can't you suggest any?" + +"Perhaps. I know a lot of young fellows." + +"But I mean available young men, those that count socially. I don't want +a broker's board or a Chamber of Commerce here." + +Mr. Mavick named half a dozen, and Carmen looked for their names in the +social register. "Any more?" + +"Why, you forgot young Burnett, who was with you last summer at +Rivervale. I thought you liked him." + +"So I did in Rivervale. Plain farmer people. Yes, he was very nice to +us. I've been thinking if I couldn't send him something Christmas and +pay off the debt." + +"He'd think a great deal more of an invitation to your reception." + +"But you don't understand. You never think of Evelyn's future. We are +asking people that we think she ought to know." + +"Well, Burnett is a very agreeable fellow." + +"Fiddlesticks! He is nothing but a law clerk. Worse than that, he is a +magazine writer." + +"I thought you liked his essays and stories." + +"So I do. But you don't want to associate with everybody you like that +way. I am talking about society. You must draw the line somewhere. Oh, +I forgot Fogg--Dr. LeRoy Fogg, from Pittsburg." And down went the name +of Fogg. + +"You mean that young swell whose business it is to drive a four-in-hand +to Yonkers and back, and toot on a horn?" + +"Well, what of that? Everybody who is anybody, I mean all the girls, +want to go on his coach." + +"Oh, Lord! I'd rather go on the Elevated." And Mavick laughed very +heartily, for him. "Well, I'll make a compromise. You take Fogg and +I'll take Burnett. He is in a good firm, he belongs to a first-rate +club, he goes to the Hunts' and the Scammels', I hear of him in good +places. Come." + +"Well, if you make a point of it. I've nothing against him. But if you +knew the feelings of a mother about her only daughter you would know, +that you cannot be too careful." + +When, several days after this conversation, Philip received his big +invitation, gorgeously engraved on what he took to be a sublimated sort +of wrapping-paper, he felt ashamed that he had doubted the sincere +friendship and the goodness of heart of Mrs. Mavick. + + + + +XV + +One morning in December, Philip was sent down to Mr. Mavick's office with +some important papers. He was kept waiting a considerable time in the +outer room where the clerks were at work. A couple of clerks at desks +near the chair he occupied were evidently discussing some one and he +overheard fragments of sentences--"Yes, that's he." "Well, I guess the +old man's got his match this time." + +When he was admitted to the private office, he encountered coming out in +the anteroom a man of striking appearance. For an instant they were face +to face, and then bowed and passed on. The instant seemed to awaken some +memory in Philip which greatly puzzled him. + +The man had closely cropped black hair, black Whiskers, a little curling, +but also closely trimmed, piercing black eyes, and the complexion of a +Spaniard. The nose was large but regular, the mouth square-cut and firm, +and the powerful jaw emphasized the decision of the mouth. The frame +corresponded with the head. It was Herculean, and yet with no +exaggerated developments. The man was over six feet in height, the +shoulders were square, the chest deep, the hips and legs modeled for +strength, and with no superfluous flesh. Philip noticed, as they fronted +each other for an instant and the stranger raised his hat, that his hands +and feet were smaller than usually accompany such a large frame. The +impression was that of great physical energy, self-confidence, and +determined will. The face was not bad, certainly not in detail, and even +the penetrating eyes seemed at the moment capable of a humorous +expression, but it was that of a man whom you would not like to have your +enemy. He wore a business suit of rough material and fashionable cut, +but he wore it like a man who did not give much thought to his clothes. + +"What a striking-looking man," said Philip, motioning with his hand +towards the anteroom as he greeted Mr. Mavick. + +"Who, Ault?" answered Mavick, indifferently. + +"Ault! What, Murad Ault?" + +"Nobody else." + +"Is it possible? I thought I saw a resemblance. Several times I have +wondered, but I fancied it only a coincidence of names. It seemed +absurd. Why, I used to know Murad Ault when we were boys. And to think +that he should be the great Murad Ault." + +"He hasn't been that for more than a couple of years," Mavick answered, +with a smile at the other's astonishment, and then, with more interest, +"What do you know about him?" + +"If this is the same person, he used to live at Rivervale. Came there, +no one knew where from, and lived with his mother, a little withered old +woman, on a little cleared patch up in the hills, in a comfortable sort +of shanty. She used to come to the village with herbs and roots to sell. +Nobody knew whether she was a gypsy or a decayed lady, she had such an +air, and the children were half afraid of her, as a sort of witch. Murad +went to school, and occasionally worked for some farmer, but nobody knew +him; he rarely spoke to any one, and he had the reputation of being a +perfect devil; his only delight seemed to be in doing some dare-devil +feat to frighten the children. We used to say that Murad Ault would +become either a pirate or--" + +"Broker," suggested Mr. Mavick, with a smile. + +"I didn't know much about brokers at that time," Philip hastened to say, +and then laughed himself at his escape from actual rudeness. + +"What became of him?" + +"Oh, he just disappeared. After I went away to school I heard that his +mother had died, and Murad had gone off--gone West it was said. Nothing +was ever heard of him." + +The advent and rise of Murad Ault in New York was the sort of phenomenon +to which the metropolis, which picks up its great men as Napoleon did his +marshals, is accustomed. The mystery of his origin, which was at first +against him, became at length an element of his strength and of the fear +he inspired, as a sort of elemental force of unknown power. Newspaper +biographies of him constantly appeared, but he had evaded every attempt +to include him and his portrait in the Lives of Successful Men. The +publishers of these useful volumes for stimulating speculation and +ambition did not dare to take the least liberties with Murad Ault. + +The man was like the boy whom Philip remembered. Doubtless he +appreciated now as then the value of the mystery that surrounded his name +and origin; and he very soon had a humorous conception of the situation +that made him decline to be pilloried with others in one of those +volumes, which won from a reviewer the confession that "lives of great +men all remind us we may make our lives sublime." One of the legends +current about him was that he first appeared in New York as a "hand" on a +canal-boat, that he got employment as a check-clerk on the dock, that he +made the acquaintance of politicians in his ward, and went into politics +far enough to get a city contract, which paid him very well and showed +him how easily a resolute man could get money and use it in the city. He +was first heard of in Wall Street as a curbstone broker, taking enormous +risks and always lucky. Very soon he set up an office, with one clerk or +errand-boy, and his growing reputation for sagacity and boldness began to +attract customers; his ventures soon engaged the attention of guerrillas +like himself, who were wont to consult him. They found that his advice +was generally sound, and that he had not only sensitiveness but +prescience about the state of the market. His office was presently +enlarged, and displayed a modest sign of "Murad Ault, Banker and Broker." + +Mr. Ault's operations constantly enlarged, his schemes went beyond the +business of registering other people's bets and taking a commission on +them; he was known as a daring but successful promoter, and he had a +visible ownership in steamships and railways, and projected such vast +operations as draining the Jersey marshes. If he had been a citizen of +Italy he would have attacked the Roman Campagna with the same confidence. +At any rate, he made himself so much felt and seemed to command so many +resources that it was not long before he forced his way into the Stock +Exchange and had a seat in the Board of Brokers. He was at first an odd +figure there. There was something flash about his appearance, and his +heavy double watch-chain and diamond shirt-studs gave him the look of an +ephemeral adventurer. But he soon took his cue, the diamonds +disappeared, and the dress was toned down. There seemed to be two models +in the Board, the smart and neat, and the hayseed style adopted by some +of the most wily old operators, who posed as honest dealers who retained +their rural simplicity. Mr. Ault adopted a middle course, and took the +respectable yet fashionable, solid dress of a man of affairs. + +There is no other place in the world where merit is so quickly recognized +as in the Stock Exchange, especially if it is backed by brass and a good +head. Ault's audacity made him feared; he was believed to be as +unscrupulous as he was reckless, but this did not much injure his +reputation when it was seen that he was marvelously successful. That +Ault would wreck the market, if he could and it was to his advantage, no +one doubted; but still he had a quality that begot confidence. He kept +his word. Though men might be shy of entering into a contract with Ault, +they learned that what he said he would do he would do literally. He was +not a man of many words, but he was always decided and apparently open, +and, as whatever he touched seemed to thrive, his associates got the +habit of saying, "What Ault says goes." + +Murad Ault had married, so it was said, the daughter of a boarding-house +keeper on the dock. She was a pretty girl, had been educated in a +convent (perhaps by his aid after he was engaged to marry her), and was a +sweet mother to a little brood of charming children, and a devout member +of her parish church. Those who had seen Mrs. Ault when her carriage +took her occasionally to Ault's office in the city were much impressed by +her graceful manner and sweet face, and her appearance gave Ault a sort +of anchorage in the region of respectability. No one would have accused +Ault of being devoted to any special kind of religious worship; but he +was equally tolerant of all religions, and report said was liberal in his +wife's church charities. Besides the fact that he owned a somewhat +pretentious house in Sixtieth Street, society had very little knowledge +of him. + +It was, however, undeniable that he was a power in the Street. No other +man's name was oftener mentioned in the daily journals in connection with +some bold and successful operation. He seemed to thrive on panics, and +to grow strong and rich with every turn of the wheel. There is only one +stock expression in America for a man who is very able and unscrupulous, +and carries things successfully with a high hand--he is Napoleonic. It +needed only a few brilliant operations, madly reckless in appearance but +successful, to give Ault the newspaper sobriquet of the Young Napoleon. + +"Papa, what does he mean?" asked the eldest boy. "Jim Dustin says the +papers call you Napoleon." + +"It means, my boy," said Ault, with a grim smile, that I am devoted to +your mother, St. Helena." + +"Don't say that, Murad," exclaimed his wife; I'm far enough from a saint, +and your destiny isn't the Island." + +"What's the Island, mamma?" + +"It's a place people are sent to for their health." + +"In a boat? Can I go?" + +"You ask too many questions, Sinclair," said Mr. Ault; "it's time you +were off to school." + +There seems to have been not the least suspicion in this household that +the head of it was a pirate. + +It must be said that Mavick still looked upon Ault as an adventurer, one +of those erratic beings who appear from time to time in the Street, upset +everything, and then disappear. They had been associated occasionally in +small deals, and Ault had more than once appealed to Mavick, as a great +capitalist, with some promising scheme. They had, indeed, co-operated in +reorganizing a Western railway, but seemed to have come out of the +operation without increased confidence in each other. What had occurred +nobody knew, but thereafter there developed a slight antagonism between +the two operators. Ault went no more to consult the elder man, and they +had two or three little bouts, in which Mavick did not get the best of +it. This was not an unusual thing in the Street. Mr. Ault never +expressed his opinion of Mr. Mavick, but it became more and more apparent +that their interests were opposed. Some one who knew both men, and said +that the one was as cold and selfish as a pike, and the other was a most +unscrupulous dare-devil, believed that Mavick had attempted some sort of +a trick on Ault, and that it was the kind of thing that the Spaniard (his +complexion had given him this nickname) never forgot. + +It is not intended to enter into a defense of the local pool known as the +New York Stock Exchange. It needs none. Some regard it as a necessary +standpipe to promote and equalize distribution, others consult it as a +sort of Nilometer, to note the rise and fall of the waters and the +probabilities of drought or flood. Everybody knows that it is full of +the most gamy and beautiful fish in the world--namely, the speckled +trout, whose honest occupation it is to devour whatever is thrown into +the pool--a body governed by the strictest laws of political economy in +guarding against over-population, by carrying out the Malthusian idea, in +the habit the big ones have of eating the little ones. But occasionally +this harmonious family, which is animated by one of the most conspicuous +traits of human nature--to which we owe very much of our progress-- +namely, the desire to get hold of everything within reach, and is such a +useful object-lesson of the universal law of upward struggle that results +in the survival of the fittest, this harmonious family is disturbed by +the advent of a pickerel, which makes a raid, introduces confusion into +all the calculations of the pool, roils the water, and drives the trout +into their holes. + +The presence in the pool of a slimy eel or a blundering bullhead or a +lethargic sucker is bad enough, but the rush in of the pickerel is the +advent of the devil himself. Until he is got rid of, all the delicate +machinery for the calculation of chances is hopelessly disturbed; and no +one could tell what would become of the business of the country if there +were not a considerable number of devoted men engaged in registering its +fluctuations and the change of values, and willing to back their opinions +by investing their own capital or, more often, the capital of others. + +This somewhat mixed figure cannot be pursued further without losing its +analogy, becoming fantastic, and violating natural law. For it is matter +of observation that in this arena the pickerel, if he succeeds in +clearing out the pool, suddenly becomes a trout, and is respected as the +biggest and most useful fish in the pond. + +What is meant is simply that Murad Ault was fighting for position, and +that for some reason, known to himself, Thomas Mavick stood in his way. +Mr. Mavick had never been under the necessity of making such a contest. +He stepped into a commanding position as the manager if not the owner of +the great fortune of Rodney Henderson. His position was undisputed, for +the Street believed with the world in the magnitude of that fortune, +though there were shrewd operators who said that Mavick had more chicane +but not a tenth part of the ability of Rodney Henderson. Mr. Ault had +made the fortune the object of keen scrutiny, when his antagonism was +aroused, and none knew better than he its assailable points. Henderson +had died suddenly in the midst of vast schemes which needed his genius to +perfect. Apparently the Mavick estate was second to only a few fortunes +in the country. Mr. Ault had set himself to find out whether this vast +structure stood upon rock foundations. The knowledge he acquired about +it and his intentions he communicated to no one. But the drift of his +mind might be gathered from a remark he made to his wife one day, when +some social allusion was made to Mavick: "I'll bring down that snob." + +The use of such men as Ault in the social structure is very doubtful, as +doubtful as that of a summer tempest or local cyclone, which it is said +clears the air and removes rubbish, but is a scourge that involves the +innocent as often as the guilty. It is popularly supposed that the +disintegration and distribution of a great fortune, especially if it has +been accumulated by doubtful methods, is a benefit to mankind. Mr. Ault +may have shared this impression, but it is unlikely that he philosophized +on the subject. No one, except perhaps his own family, had ever +discovered that he had any sensibilities that could be appealed to, and, +if he had known the ideas beginning to take shape in the mind of the +millionaire heiress in regard to this fortune, he would have approved or +comprehended them as little as did her mother. + +Evelyn had lived hitherto with little comprehension of her peculiar +position. That the world went well with her, and that no obstacle was +opposed to the gratification of her reasonable desires, or to her +impulses of charity and pity, was about all she knew of her power. But +she was now eighteen and about to appear in the world. Her mother, +therefore, had been enlightening her in regard to her expectations and +the career that lay open to her. And Carmen thought the girl a little +perverse, in that this prospect, instead of exciting her worldly +ambition, seemed to affect her only seriously as a matter of +responsibility. + +In their talks Mrs. Mavick was in fact becoming acquainted with the mind +of her daughter, and learning, somewhat to her chagrin, the limitations +of her education produced by the policy of isolation. +To her dismay, she found that the girl did not care much for the things +that she herself cared most for. The whole world of society, its +strifes, ambitions, triumphs, defeats, rewards, did not seem to Evelyn so +real or so important as that world in which she had lived with her +governess and her tutors. And, worse than this, the estimate she placed +upon the values of material things was shockingly inadequate to her +position. + +That her father was a very great man was one of the earliest things +Evelyn began to know, exterior to herself. This was impressed upon her +by the deference paid to him not only at home but wherever they went, and +by the deference shown to her as his daughter. And she was proud of +this. He was not one of the great men whose careers she was familiar +with in literature, not a general or a statesman or an orator or a +scientist or a poet or a philanthropist she never thought of him in +connection with these heroes of her imagination--but he was certainly a +great power in the world. And she had for him a profound admiration, +which might have become affection if Mavick had ever taken the pains to +interest himself in the child's affairs. Her mother she loved, and +believed there could be no one in the world more sweet and graceful and +attractive, and as she grew up she yearned for more of the motherly +companionship, for something more than the odd moments of petting that +were given to her in the whirl of the life of a woman of the world. What +that life was, however, she had only the dimmest comprehension, and it +was only in the last two years, since she was sixteen, that she began to +understand it, and that mainly in contrast to her own guarded life. And +she was now able to see that her own secluded life had been unusual. + +Not till long after this did she speak to any one of her experience as a +child, of the time when she became conscious that she was never alone, +and that she was only free to act within certain limits. + +To McDonald, indeed, she had often shown her irritation, and it was only +the strong good sense of the governess that kept her from revolt. It was +not until very recently that it could be explained to her, without +putting her in terror hourly, why she must always be watched and guarded. + +It had required all the tact and sophistry of her governess to make her +acquiesce in a system of education--so it was called-that had been +devised in order to give her the highest and purest development. That +the education was mainly left to McDonald, and that her parents were +simply anxious about her safety, she did not learn till long afterwards. +In the first years Mrs. Mavick had been greatly relieved to be spared all +the care of the baby, and as the years went on, the arrangement seemed +more and more convenient, and she gave little thought to the character +that was being formed. To Mr. Mavick, indeed, as to his wife, it was +enough to see that she was uncommonly intelligent, and that she had a +certain charm that made her attractive. Mrs. Mavick took it for granted +that when it came time to introduce her into the world she would be like +other girls, eager for its pleasures and susceptible to all its +allurements. Of the direction of the undercurrents of the girl's life +she had no conception, until she began to unfold to her the views of the +world that prevailed in her circle, and what (in the Carmen scheme of +life) ought to be a woman's ambition. + +That she was to be an heiress Evelyn had long known, that she would one +day have a great fortune at her disposal had indeed come into her serious +thought, but the brilliant use of it in relation to herself, at which her +mother was always lately hinting, came to her as a disagreeable shock. +For the moment the fortune seemed to her rather a fetter than an +opportunity, if she was to fulfill her mother's expectations. These +hints were conveyed with all the tact of which her mother was master, but +the girl was nevertheless somewhat alarmed, and she began to regard the +"coming out" as an entrance into servitude rather than an enlargement of +liberty. One day she surprised Miss McDonald by asking her if she didn't +think that rich people were the only ones not free to do as they pleased? + +"Why, my dear, it is not generally so considered. Most people fancy that +if they had money enough they could do anything." + +"Yes, of course," said the girl, putting down her stitching and looking +up; "that is not exactly what I mean. They can go in the current, they +can do what they like with their money, but I mean with themselves. +Aren't they in a condition that binds them half the time to do what they +don't wish to do?" + +"It's a condition that all the world is trying to get into." + +"I know. I've been talking with mamma about the world and about society, +and what is expected and what you must live up to." + +"But you have always known that you must one day go into the world and +take your share in life." + +"That, yes. But I would rather live up to myself. Mamma seems to think +that society will do a great deal for me, that I will get a wider view of +life, that I can do so much for society, and, with my position, mamma +says, have such a career. McDonald, what is society for?" + +That was such a poser that the governess threw up her hands, and then +laughed aloud, and then shook her head. "Wiser people than you have +asked that question." + +"I asked mamma that, for she is in it all the time. She didn't like it +much, and asked, 'What is anything for?' You see, McDonald, I've been +with mamma many a time when her friends came to see her, and they never +have anything to say, never--what I call anything. I wonder if in +society they go about saying that? What do they do it for?" + +Miss McDonald had her own opinion about what is called society and its +occupations and functions, but she did not propose to encourage this +girl, who would soon take her place in it, in such odd notions. + +"Don't you know, child, that there is society and society? That it is +all sorts of a world, that it gets into groups and circles about, and +that is the way the world is stirred up and kept from stagnation. And, +my dear, you have just to do your duty where you are placed, and that is +all there is about it." + +"Don't be cross, McDonald. I suppose I can think my thoughts?" + +"Yes, you can think, and you can learn to keep a good deal that you think +to yourself. Now, Evelyn, haven't you any curiosity to see what this +world we are talking about is like?" + +"Indeed I have," said Evelyn, coming out of her reflective mood into a +girlish enthusiasm. "And I want to see what I shall be like in it. +Only--well, how is that?" And she held out the handkerchief she had been +plying her needle on. + +Miss McDonald looked at the stitches critically, at the letters T.M. +enclosed in an oval. + +"That is very good, not too mechanical. It will please your father. The +oval makes a pretty effect; but what are those signs between the +letters?" + +"Don't you see? It is a cartouche, and those are hieroglyphics--his name +in Egyptian. I got it out of Petrie's book." + +"It certainly is odd." + +"And every one of the twelve is going to be different. It is so +interesting to hunt up the signs for qualities. If papa can read it he +will find out a good deal that I think about him." + +The governess only smiled for reply. It was so like Evelyn, so different +from others even in the commonplace task of marking handkerchiefs, to +work a little archaeology into her expression of family affection. + +Mrs. Mavick's talks with her daughter in which she attempted to give +Evelyn some conception of her importance as the heiress of a great +fortune, of her position in society, what would be expected of her, and +of the brilliant social career her mother imagined for her, had an effect +opposite to that intended. There had been nothing in her shielded life, +provided for at every step without effort, that had given her any idea of +the value and importance of money. + +To a girl in her position, educated in the ordinary way and mingling with +school companions, one of the earliest lessons would be a comprehension +of the power that wealth gave her; and by the time that she was of +Evelyn's age her opinion of men would begin to be colored by the notion +that they were polite or attentive to her on account of her fortune and +not for any charm of hers, and so a cruel suspicion of selfishness would +have entered her mind to poison the very thought of love. + +No such idea had entered Evelyn's mind. She would not readily have +understood that love could have any sort of relation to riches or +poverty. And if, deep down in her heart, not acknowledged, scarcely +recognized, by herself, there had begun to grow an image about which she +had sweet and tender thoughts, it certainly did not occur to her that her +father's wealth could make any difference in the relations of friendship +or even of affection. And as for the fortune, if she was, as her mother +said, some day to be mistress of it, she began to turn over in her mind +objects quite different from the display and the career suggested by her +mother, and to think how she could use it. + +In her ignorance of practical life and of what the world generally +values, of course the scheme that was rather hazy in her mind was simply +Quixotic, as appeared in a conversation with her father one evening while +he smoked his cigar. He had called Evelyn to the library, on the +suggestion of Carmen that he should "have a little talk with the girl." + +Mr. Mavick began, when Evelyn was seated beside him, and he had drawn her +close to him and she had taken possession of his big hand with both her +little hands, about the reception and about balls to come, and the opera, +and what was going on in New York generally in the season, and suddenly +asked: + +"My dear, if you had a lot of money, what would you do with it?" + +"What would you?" said the girl, looking up into his face. "What do +people generally do?" + +"Why," and Mavick hesitated, "they use it to add more to it." + +"And then?" pursued the girl. + +"I suppose they leave it to somebody. Suppose it was left to you?" + +"Don't think me silly, papa; I've thought a lot about it, and I shall do +something quite different." + +"Different from what?" + +"You know mamma is in the Orthopedic Hospital, and in the Ragged Schools, +and in the Infirmary, and I don't know what all." + +"And wouldn't you help them?" + +"Of course, I would help. But everybody does those things, the practical +things, the charities; I mean to do things for the higher life." + +Mr. Mavick took his cigar from his mouth and looked puzzled. "You want +to build a cathedral?" + +"No, I don't mean that sort of higher life, I mean civilization, the +things at the top. I read an essay the other day that said it was easy +to raise money for anything mechanical and practical in a school, but +nobody wanted to give for anything ideal." + +"Quite right," said her father; "the world is full of cranks. You seem +as vague as your essayist." + +"Don't you remember, papa, when we were in Oxford how amused you were +with the master, or professor, who grumbled because the college was full +of students, and there wasn't a single college for research? + +"I asked McDonald afterwards what he meant; that is how I first got my +idea, but I didn't see exactly what it was until recently. You've got to +cultivate the high things--that essay says--the abstract, that which does +not seem practically useful, or society will become low and material." + +"By George!" cried Mavick, with a burst of laughter, "you've got the +lingo. Go on, I want to see where you are going to light." + +"Well, I'll tell you some more. You know my tutor is English. McDonald +says she believes he is the most learned man in eighteenth-century +literature living, and his dream is to write a history of it. He is +poor, and engaged all the time teaching, and McDonald says he will die, +no doubt, and leave nothing of his investigations to the world." + +"And you want to endow him?" + +"He is only one. There is the tutor of history. Teach, teach, teach, +and no time or strength left for investigation. You ought to hear him +tell of the things just to be found out in American history. You see +what I mean? It is plainer in the sciences. The scholars who could +really make investigations, and do something for the world, have to earn +their living and have no time or means for experiments. It seems foolish +as I say it, but I do think, papa, there is something in it." + +"And what would you do?" + +Evelyn saw that she was making no headway, and her ideas, exposed to so +practical a man as her father, did seem rather ridiculous. But she +struck out boldly with the scheme that she had been evolving. + +"I'd found Institutions of Research, where there should be no teaching, +and students who had demonstrated that they had anything promising in +them, in science, literature, languages, history, anything, should have +the means and the opportunity to make investigations and do work. See +what a hard time inventors and men of genius have; it is pitiful." + +"And how much money do you want for this modest scheme of yours?" + +"I hadn't thought," said Evelyn, patting her father's hand. And then, at +a venture, "I guess about ten millions." + +"Whew! Have you any idea how much ten millions are, or how much one +million is?" + +"Why, ten millions, if you have a hundred, is no more than one million if +you have only ten. Doesn't it depend?" + +"If it depends upon you, child, I don't think money has any value for you +whatever. You are a born financier for getting rid of a surplus. You +ought to be Secretary of the Treasury." + +Mavick rose, lifted up his daughter, and, kissing her with more than +usual tenderness, said, "You'll learn about the world in time," and bade +her goodnight. + + + + +XVI + +Law and love go very well together as occupations, but, when literature +is added, the trio is not harmonious. Either of the two might pull +together, but the combination of the three is certainly disastrous. + +It would be difficult to conceive of a person more obviously up in the +air than Philip at this moment. He went through his office duties +intelligently and perfunctorily, but his heart was not in the work, and +reason as he would his career did not seem to be that way. He was lured +too strongly by that siren, the ever-alluring woman who sits upon the +rocks and sings so deliciously to youth of the sweets of authorship. He +who listens once to that song hears it always in his ears, through +disappointment and success--and the success is often the greatest +disappointment--through poverty and hope deferred and heart-sickness for +recognition, through the hot time of youth and the creeping incapacity of +old age. The song never ceases. Were the longing and the hunger it +arouses ever satisfied with anything, money for instance, any more than +with fame? + +And if the law had a feeble hold on him, how much more uncertain was his +grasp on literature. He had thrown his line, he had been encouraged by +nibbles, but publishers were too wary to take hold. It seemed to him +that he had literally cast his bread upon the waters, and apparently at +an ebb tide, and his venture had gone to the fathomless sea. He had put +his heart into the story, and, more than that, his hope of something +dearer than any public favor. As he went over the story in his mind, +scene after scene, and dwelt upon the theme that held the whole in unity, +he felt that Evelyn would be touched by the recognition of her part in +the inspiration, and that the great public must give some heed to it. +Perhaps not the great public--for its liking now ran in quite another +direction, but a considerable number of people like Celia, who were +struggling with problems of life, and the Alices in country homes who +still preserved in their souls a belief in the power of a noble life, and +perhaps some critics who had not rid themselves of the old traditions. +If the publishers would only give him a chance! + +But if law and literature were to him little more than unsubstantial +dreams, the love he cherished was, in the cool examination of reason, +preposterous. What! the heiress of so many millions, brought up +doubtless in the expectation of the most brilliant worldly alliance, the +heiress with the world presently at her feet, would she look at a +lawyer's clerk and an unsuccessful scribbler? Oh, the vanity of youth +and the conceit of intellect! + +Down in his heart Philip thought that she might. And he went on nursing +this vain passion, knowing as well as any one can know the social code, +that Mr. Mavick and Mrs. Mavick would simply laugh in his face at such a +preposterous idea. And yet he knew that he had her sympathy in his +ambition, that to a certain extent she was interested in him. The girl +was too guileless to conceal that. And then suppose he should become +famous--well, not exactly famous, but an author who was talked about, and +becoming known, and said to be promising? And then he could fancy Mavick +weighing this sort of reputation in his office scales against money, and +Mrs. Mavick weighing it in her boudoir against social position. He was a +fool to think of it. And yet, suppose, suppose the girl should come to +love him. It would not be lightly. He knew that, by looking into her +deep, clear, beautiful eyes. There were in them determination and +tenacity of purpose as well as the capability of passion. Heavens and +earth, if that girl once loved, there was a force that no opposition +could subdue! That was true. But what had he to offer to evoke such a +love? + +In those days Philip saw much of Celia, who at length had given up +teaching, and had come to the city to try her experiment, into which she +was willing to embark her small income. She had taken a room in the +midst of poverty and misery on the East Side, and was studying the +situation. + +"I am not certain," she said, "whether I or any one else can do anything, +or whether any organization down there can effect much. +But I will find out." + +"Aren't you lonesome--and disgusted?" asked Philip. + +"Disgusted? You might as well be disgusted with one thing as another. I +am generally disgusted with the way things go. But, lonely? No, there +is too much to do and to learn. And do you know, Philip, that people are +more interesting over there, more individual, have more queer sorts of +character. I begin to believe, with a lovely philanthropist I know, who +had charge of female criminals, that 'wicked women are more interesting +than good women.'" + +"You have struck a rich mine of interest in New York, then." + +"Don't be cynical, Phil. There are different kinds of interest. Stuff! +But I won't explain." And then, abruptly changing the subject, "Seems to +me you have something on your mind lately. Is it the novel?" + +"Perhaps." + +"The publishers haven't decided?" + +"I am afraid they have." + +"Well, Philip, do you know that I think the best thing that could happen +to you would be to have the story rejected." + +"It has been rejected several times," said Philip. "That didn't seem to +do me any good." + +"But finally, so that you would stop thinking about it, stop expecting +anything that way, and take up your profession in earnest." + +"You are a nice comforter!" retorted Philip, with a sort of smirking grin +and a look of keen inspection, as if he saw something new in the +character of his adviser. "What has come over you? Suppose I should +give you that sort of sympathy in the projects you set your heart on?" + +"It does seem hard and mean, doesn't it? I knew you wouldn't like it. +That is, not now. But it is for your lifetime. As for me, I've wanted +so many things and I've tried so many things. And do you know, Phil, +that I have about come to the conclusion that the best things for us in +this world are the things we don't get." + +"You are always coming to some new conclusion." + +"Yes, I know. But just look at it rationally. Suppose your story is +published, cast into the sea of new books, and has a very fair sale. +What will you get out of it? You can reckon how many copies at ten cents +a copy it will need to make as much as some writers get for a trivial +magazine paper. Recognition? Yes, from a very few people. Notoriety? +You would soon find what that is. Suppose you make what is called a +'hit.' If you did not better that with the next book, you would be +called a failure. And you must keep at it, keep giving the public +something new all the time, or you will drop out of sight. And then the +anxiety and the strain of it, and the temptation, because you must live, +to lower your ideal, and go down to what you conceive to be the buying +public. And if your story does not take the popular fancy, where will +you be then?" + +"Celia, you have become a perfect materialist. You don't allow anything +for the joy of creation, for the impulse of a man's mind, for the delight +in fighting for a place in the world of letters." + +"So it seems to you now. If you have anything that must be said, of +course you ought to say it, no matter what comes after. If you are +looking round for something you can say in order to get the position you +covet, that is another thing. People so deceive themselves about this. +I know literary workers who lead a dog's life and are slaves to their +pursuit, simply because they have deceived themselves in this. I want +you to be free and independent, to live your own life and do what work +you can in the world. There, I've said it, and of course you will go +right on. I know you. And maybe I am all wrong. When I see the story I +may take the other side and urge you to go on, even if you are as poor as +a church-mouse, and have to be under the harrow of poverty for years." + +"Then you have some curiosity to see the story?" + +"You know I have. And I know I shall like it. It isn't that, Phil; it +is what is the happiest career for you." + +"Well, I will send it to you when it comes back." + +But the unexpected happened. It did not come back. One morning Philip +received a letter from the publishers that set his head in a whirl. The +story was accepted. The publisher wrote that the verdict of the readers +was favorable, and he would venture on it, though he cautioned Mr. +Burnett not to expect a great commercial success. And he added, as to +terms, it being a new name, though he hoped one that would become famous, +that the copyright of ten per cent. would not begin until after the sale +of the first thousand copies. + +The latter part of the letter made no impression on Philip. So long as +the book was published, and by a respectable firm, he was indifferent as +a lord to the ignoble details of royalty. The publisher had recognized +the value of the book, and it was accepted on its merits. That was +enough. The first thing he did was to enclose the letter to Celia, with +the simple remark that he would try to sympathize with her in her +disappointment. + +Philip would have been a little less jubilant if he had known how the +decision of the publishing house was arrived at. It was true that the +readers had reported favorably, but had refused to express any opinion on +the market value. The manuscript had therefore been put in the grave- +yard of manuscripts, from which there is commonly no resurrection except +in the funeral progress of the manuscript back to the author. But the +head of the house happened to dine at the house of Mr. Hunt, the senior +of Philip's law firm. Some chance allusion was made by a lady to an +article in a recent magazine which had pleased her more than anything she +had seen lately. Mr. Hunt also had seen it, for his wife had insisted on +reading it to him, and he was proud to say that the author was a clerk in +his office--a fine fellow, who, he always fancied, had more taste for +literature than for law, but he had the stuff in him to succeed in +anything. The publisher pricked up his ears and asked some questions. +He found that Mr. Burnett stood well in the most prominent law firm in +the city, that ladies of social position recognized his talent, that he +dined here and there in a good set, and that he belonged to one of the +best clubs. When he went to his office the next morning he sent for the +manuscript, looked it over critically, and then announced to his partners +that he thought the thing was worth trying. + +In a day or two it was announced in the advertising lists as forthcoming. +There it stared Philip in the face and seemed to be the only conspicuous +thing in the journal. He had not paid much attention before to the +advertisements, but now this department seemed the most interesting part +of the paper, and he read every announcement, and then came back and read +his over and over. There it stood:--"On Saturday, The Puritan Nun. An +Idyl. By Philip Burnett." + +The naming of the book had been almost as difficult as the creation. His +first choice had been "The Lily of the Valley," but Balzac had pre-empted +that. And then he had thought of "The Enclosed Garden" (Hortus Clausus), +the title of a lovely picture he had seen. That was Biblical, but in the +present ignorance of the old scriptures it would be thought either +agricultural or sentimental. It is not uncommon that a book owes its +notoriety and sale to its title, and it is not easy to find a title that +will attract attention without being too sensational. The title chosen +was paradoxical, for while a nun might be a puritan, it was unthinkable +that a Puritan should be a nun. + +Mr. Brad said he liked it, because it looked well and did not mean +anything; he liked all such titles, the "Pious Pirate," the "Lucid +Lunatic," the "Sympathetic Siren," the "Guileless Girl," and so on. + +The announcement of publication had the effect of putting Philip in high +spirits for the Mavick reception-spirits tempered, however, by the +embarrassment natural to a modest man that he would be painfully +conspicuous. This first placarding of one's name is a peculiar and mixed +sensation. The letters seem shamefully naked, and the owner seems +exposed and to have parted with a considerable portion of his innate +privacy. His first fancy is that everybody will see it. But this fancy +only comes once. With experience he comes to doubt if anybody except +himself will see it. + +To those most concerned the Mavick reception was the event of a lifetime. +To the town--that is, to a thousand or two persons occupying in their own +eyes an exclusive position it was one of the events of the season, and, +indeed, it was the sensation for a couple of days. The historian of +social life formerly had put upon him the task of painfully describing +all that went to make such an occasion brilliant--the house itself, the +decorations, the notable company, men distinguished in the State or the +Street, women as remarkable for their beauty as for their courage in its +exhibition, the whole world of fashion and of splendid extravagance upon +which the modiste and the tailor could look with as much pride as the +gardener does upon a show of flowers which his genius has brought to +perfection. + +The historian has no longer this responsibility. It is transferred to a +kind of trust. A race of skillful artists has arisen, who, in +combination with the caterers, the decorators, and the milliners, produce +a composite piece of literature in which all details are woven into a +splendid whole--a composition rhetorical, humorous, lyrical, a noble +apotheosis of wealth and beauty which carefully satisfies individual +vanity and raises in the mind a noble picture of modern civilization. +The pen and the pencil contribute to this splendid result in the daily +chronicle of our life. Those who are not present are really witnesses of +the scene, and this pictorial and literary triumph is justified in the +fact that no other effort of the genius of reproduction is so eagerly +studied by the general public. Not only in the city, but in the remote +villages, these accounts are perused with interest, and it must be taken +as an evidence of the new conception of the duties of the favored of +fortune to the public pleasure that the participants in these fetes +overcome, though reluctantly, their objection to notoriety. + +No other people in the world are so hospitable as the Americans, and so +willing to incur discomfort in showing hospitality. No greater proof of +this can be needed than the effort to give princely entertainments in un- +princely houses, where opposing streams of guests fight for progress in +scant passages and on narrow stairways, and pack themselves in stifling +rooms. The Mavick house, it should be said, was perfectly adapted to the +throng that seemed to fill but did not crowd it. The spacious halls, the +noble stairways, the ample drawing-rooms, the ballroom, the music-room, +the library, the picture-gallery, the dining-room, the conservatory--into +these the crowd flowed or lingered without confusion or annoyance and in +a continual pleasure of surprise. "The best point of view," said an +artist of Philip's acquaintance, "is just here." They were standing in +the great hall looking up at that noble gallery from which flowed down on +either hand a broad stairway. + +"I didn't know there was so much beauty in New York. It never before had +such an opportunity to display itself. There is room for the exhibition +of the most elaborate toilets, and the costumes really look regal in such +a setting." + +When Philip was shown to the dressing-room, conscious that the servant +was weighing him lightly in the social scale on account of his early +arrival, he found a few men who were waiting to make their appearance +more seasonable. They were young men, who had the air of being bored by +this sort of thing, and greeted each other with a look of courteous +surprise, as much as to say, "Hello! you here?" One of them, whom Philip +knew slightly, who had the reputation of being the distributer if not the +fountain of social information, and had the power of attracting gossip as +a magnet does iron filings, gave Philip much valuable information +concerning the function. + +"Mrs. Mavick has done it this time. Everybody has tumbled in. +Washington is drained of its foreign diplomats, the heavy part of the +cabinet is moved over to represent the President, who sent a gracious +letter, the select from Boston, the most ancient from Philadelphia, and I +know that Chicago comes in a special train. Oh, it's the thing. I +assure you there was a scramble for invitations in the city. Lots of +visiting nobility--Count de l'Auney, I know, and that little snob, Lord +Montague." + +"Who is he?" + +"Lord Crewe Monmouth Fitzwilliam, the Marquis of Montague, eldest son of +the Duke of Tewkesbury. He's a daisy. + +"They say he is over here looking for capital to carry on his peer +business when he comes into it. Don't know who put up the money for the +trip. These foreigners keep a sharp eye on our market, I can tell you. +They say she is a nice little girl, rather a blue-stocking, face rather +intelligent than pretty, but Montague won't care for that--excuse the old +joke, but it is the figure Monte is after. He hasn't any manners, but +he's not a bad sort of a fellow, generally good-natured, immensely +pleased with New York, and an enthusiastic connoisseur in club drinks." + +At the proper hour--the hour, it came into, his mind, when the dear ones +at Rivervale had been long in sleep, lulled by the musical flow of the +Deerfield--Philip made his way to the reception room, where there +actually was some press of a crowd, in lines, to approach the attraction +of the evening, and as he waited his turn he had leisure to observe the +brilliant scene. There was scarcely a person in the room he knew. One +or two ladies gave him a preoccupied nod, a plain little woman whom he +had talked with about books at a recent dinner smiled upon him +encouragingly. But what specially impressed him at the moment was the +seriousness of the function, the intentness upon the presentation, and +the look of worry on the faces of the women in arranging trains and +avoiding catastrophes. + +As he approached he fancied that Mr. Mavick looked weary and bored, and +that a shade of abstraction occasionally came over his face as if it were +difficult to keep his thoughts on the changing line. + +But his face lighted up a little when he took Philip's hand and exchanged +with him the commonplaces of the evening. But before this he had to wait +a moment, for he was preceded by an important personage. A dapper little +figure, trim, neat, at the moment drew himself up before Mrs. Mavick, +brought his heels together with a click, and made a low bow. Doubtless +this was the French count. Mrs. Mavick was radiant. Philip had never +seen her in such spirits or so fascinating in manner. + +"It is a great honor, count." + +"It ees to me," said the count, with a marked accent; "I assure you it is +like Paris in ze time of ze monarchy. Ah, ze Great Republic, madame--so +it was in France in ze ancien regime. Ah, mademoiselle! Permit me," and +he raised her hand to his lips; "I salute--is it not" (turning to Mrs. +Mavick)--"ze princess of ze house?" + +The next man who shook hands with the host, and then stood in an easy +attitude before the hostess, attracted Philip's attention strongly, for +he fancied from the deference shown him it must be the lord of whom he +had heard. He was a short, little man, with heavy limbs and a clumsy +figure, reddish hair, very thin on the crown, small eyes that were not +improved in expression by white eyebrows, a red face, smooth shaven and +freckled. It might have been the face of a hostler or a billiard-marker. + +"I am delighted, my lord, that you could make room in your engagements to +come." + +"Ah, Mrs. Mavick, I wouldn't have missed it," said my lord, with easy +assurance; "I'd have thrown over anything to have come. And, do you +know" (looking about him coolly), "it's quite English, 'pon my honor, +quite English--St. James and that sort of thing." + +"You flatter me, my lord," replied the lady of the house, with a winning +smile. + +"No, I do assure you, it's bang-up. Ah, Miss Mavick, delighted, +delighted. Most charming. Lucky for me, wasn't it? I'm just in time." + +"You've only recently come over, Lord Montague?" asked Evelyn. + +"Been here before--Rockies, shooting, all that. Just arrived now-- +beastly trip, beastly." + +"And so you were glad to land?" + +"Glad to land anywhere. But New York suits me down to the ground. +It goes, as you say over here. You know Paris?" + +"We have been in Paris. You prefer it?" + +"For some thing. Paris as it was in the Empire. For sport, no. +For horses, no. And" (looking boldly into her face) "when you speak of +American women, Paris ain't in it, as you say over here." + +And the noble lord, instead of passing on, wheeled about and took a +position near Evelyn, so that he could drop his valuable observations +into her ear as occasion offered. + +To Philip Mrs. Mavick was civil, but she did not beam upon him, and she +did not detain him longer than to say, "Glad to see you." But Evelyn-- +could Philip be deceived?--she gave him her hand cordially and looked +into his eyes trustfully, as she had the habit of doing in the country, +and as if it were a momentary relief to her to encounter in all this +parade a friend. + +"I need not say that I am glad you could come. And oh" (there was time +only for a word), "I saw the announcement. Later, if you can, you will +tell me more about it." + +Lord Montague stared at him as if to say, "Who the deuce are you?" and as +Philip met his gaze he thought, "No, he hasn't the manner of a stable +boy; no one but a born nobleman could be so confident with women and so +supercilious to men." + +But my lord, was little in his thought. It was the face of Evelyn that +he saw, and the dainty little figure; the warmth of the little hand still +thrilled him. So simple, and only a bunch of violets in her corsage for +all ornament! The clear, dark complexion, the sweet mouth, the wonderful +eyes! What could Jenks mean by intimating that she was plain? + +Philip drifted along with the crowd. He was very much alone. And he +enjoyed his solitude. A word and a smile now and then from an +acquaintance did not tempt him to come out of his seclusion. The gay +scene pleased him. He looked for a moment into the ballroom. At another +time he would have tried his fortune in the whirl. But now he looked on +as at a spectacle from which he was detached. He had had his moment and +he waited for another. The voluptuous music, the fascinating toilets, +the beautiful faces, the graceful forms that were woven together in this +shifting kaleidoscope, were, indeed, a part of his beautiful dream. But +how unreal they all were! There was no doubt that Evelyn's eyes had +kindled for him as for no one else whom she had greeted. She singled him +out in all this crush, her look, the cordial pressure of her hand, +conveyed the feeling of comradeship and understanding. This was enough +to fill his thought with foolish anticipations. Is there any being quite +so happy, quite so stupid, as a lover? A lover, who hopes everything and +fears everything, who goes in an instant from the heights of bliss to the +depths of despair. + +When the "reception" was over and the company was breaking up into groups +and moving about, Philip again sought Evelyn. But she was the centre of +a somewhat noisy group, and it was not easy to join it. + +Yet it was something that he could feast his eyes on her and was rewarded +by a look now and then that told him she was conscious of his presence. +Encouraged by this, he was making his way to her, when there was a +movement towards the supper-room, and Mrs. Mavick had taken the arm of +the Count de l'Auney, and the little lord was jauntily leading away +Evelyn. Philip had a pang of disgust and jealousy. Evelyn was actually +chatting with him and seemed amused. Lord Montague was evidently laying +himself out to please and exerting all the powers of his subtle humor and +exploiting his newly acquired slang. That Philip could hear as they +moved past him. "The brute!" Philip said to himself, with the injustice +which always clouds the estimate of a lover of a rival whose +accomplishments differ from his own. + +In the supper-room, however, in the confusion and crowding of it, Philip +at length found his opportunity to get to the side of Evelyn, whose smile +showed him that he was welcome. It was in that fortunate interval when +Lord Montague was showing that devotion to women was not incompatible +with careful attention to terrapin and champagne. Philip was at once +inspired to say: + +"How lovely it is! Aren't you tired?" + +"Not at all. Everybody is very kind, and some are very amusing. I am +learning a great deal," and there was a quizzical look in her eyes, +"about the world." + +"Well," said Philip, "t's all here." + +"I suppose so. But do you know," and there was quite an ingenuous blush +in her cheeks as she said it, "it isn't half so nice, Mr. Burnett, as a +picnic in Zoar." + +"So you remember that?" Philip had not command of himself enough not to +attempt the sentimental. + +"You must think I have a weak memory," she replied, with a laugh. +"And the story? When shall we have it?" + +"Soon, I hope. And, Miss Mavick, I owe so much of it to you that I hope +you will let me send you the very first copy from the press." + +"Will you? And do you Of course I shall be pleased and" (making him a +little curtsy) "honored, as one ought to say in this company." + +Lord Montague was evidently getting uneasy, for his attention was +distracted from the occupation of feeding. + +"No, don't go Lord Montague, an old friend, Mr. Burnett." + +"Much pleased," said his lordship, looking round rather inquiringly at +the intruder. "I can't say much for the champagne--ah, not bad, you +know--but I always said that your terrapin isn't half so nasty as it +looks." And his lordship laughed most good-humoredly, as if he were +paying the American nation a deserved compliment. + +"Yes," said Philip, "we have to depend upon France for the champagne, but +the terrapin is native." + +"Quite so, and devilish good! That ain't bad, 'depend upon France for +the champagne!' There is nothing like your American humor, Miss Mavick." + +"It needs an Englishman to appreciate it," replied Evelyn, with a twinkle +in her eyes which was lost upon her guest. + +In the midst of these courtesies Philip bowed himself away. The party +was over for him, though he wandered about for a while, was attracted +again by the music to the ballroom, and did find there a dinner +acquaintance with whom he took a turn. The lady must have thought him a +very uninteresting or a very absent-minded companion. + +As for Lord Montague, after he had what he called a "go" in the dancing- +room, he found his way back to the buffet in the supper-room, and the +historian says that he greatly enjoyed himself, and was very amusing, and +that he cultivated the friendship of an obliging waiter early in the +morning, who conducted his lordship to his cab. + + + + +XVII + +The morning after The Puritan Nun was out, as Philip sat at his office +desk, conscious that the eyes of the world were on him, Mr. Mavick +entered, bowed to him absent-mindedly, and was shown into Mr. Hunt's +room. + +Philip had dreaded to come to the office that morning and encounter the +inquisition and perhaps the compliments of his fellow-clerks. +He had seen his name in staring capitals in the book-seller's window as +he came down, and he felt that it was shamefully exposed to the public +gaze, and that everybody had seen it. The clerks, however, gave no sign +that the event had disturbed them. He had encountered many people he +knew on the street, but there had been no recognition of his leap into +notoriety. Not a fellow in the club, where he had stopped a moment, had +treated him with any increased interest or deference. In the office only +one person seemed aware of his extraordinary good fortune. Mr. Tweedle +had come to the desk and offered his hand in his usual conciliatory and +unctuous manner. + +"I see by the paper, Mr. Burnett, that we are an author. Let me +congratulate you. Mrs. Tweedle told me not to come home without bringing +your story. Who publishes it?" + +"I shall be much honored," said Philip, blushing, "if Mrs. Tweedle will +accept a copy from me." + +"I didn't mean that, Mr. Burnett; but, of course, gift of the author-- +Mrs. Tweedle will be very much pleased." + +In half an hour Mr. Mavick came out, passed him without recognition, and +hurried from the office, and Philip was summoned to Mr. Hunt's room. + +"I want you to go to Washington immediately, Mr. Burnett. Return by the +night train. You can do without your grip? Take these papers to +Buckston Higgins--you see the address--who represents the British +Argentine syndicate. Wait till he reads them and get his reply. Here is +the money for the trip. Oh, after Mr. Higgins writes his answer, ask him +if you can telegraph me 'yes' or 'no.' Good-morning." + +While Philip was speeding to Washington, an important conference was +taking place in Murad Ault's office. He was seated at his desk, and +before him lay two despatches, one from Chicago and a cable from London. +Opposite him, leaning forward in his chair, was a lean, hatchet-faced +man, with keen eyes and aquiline nose, who watched his old curbstone +confidant like a cat. + +"I tell you, Wheatstone," said Mr. Ault, with an unmoved face, bringing +his fist down on the table, "now is the time to sell these three stocks." + +"Why," said Mr. Wheatstone, with a look of wonder, "they are about the +strongest on the list. Mavick controls them." + +"Does he?" said Ault. "Then he can take care of them." + +"Have you any news, Mr. Ault?" + +"Nothing to speak of," replied Ault, grimly. "It just looks so to me. +All you've got to do is to sell. Make a break this afternoon, about two +or three points off." + +"They are too strong," protested Mr. Wheatstone. + +"That is just the reason. Everybody will think something must be the +matter, or nobody would be fool enough to sell. You keep your eye on the +Spectrum this afternoon and tomorrow morning. About Organization and one +or two other matters." + +"Ah, they do say that Mavick is in Argentine up to his neck," said the +broker, beginning to be enlightened. + +"Is he? Then you think he would rather sell than buy?" + +Mr. Wheatstone laughed and looked admiringly at his leader. "He may have +to." + +Mr. Ault took up the cable cipher and read it to himself again. If Mr. +Hunt had known its contents he need not have waited for Philip to +telegraph "no" from Washington. + +"It's all right, Wheatstone. It's the biggest thing you ever struck. +Pitch 'em overboard in the morning. The Street is shaky about Argentine. +There'll be h--- to pay before half past twelve. I guess you can safely +go ten points. Lower yet, if Mavick's brokers begin to unload. I guess +he will have to unless he can borrow. Rumor is a big thing, especially +in a panic, eh? Keep your eye peeled. And, oh, won't you ask Babcock to +step round here?" + +Mr. Babcock came round, and had his instructions when to buy. He had the +reputation of being a reckless broker, and not a safe man to follow. + +The panic next day, both in London and New York, was long remembered. In +the unreasoning scare the best stocks were sacrificed. Small country +"investors" lost their stakes. Some operators were ruined. Many men +were poorer at the end of the scrimmage, and a few were richer. Murad +Ault was one of the latter. Mavick pulled through, though at an enormous +cost, and with some diminution of the notion of his solidity. The wise +ones suspected that his resources had been overestimated, or that they +were not so well at his command as had been supposed. + +When he went home that night he looked five years older, and was too worn +and jaded to be civil to his family. The dinner passed mostly in +silence. Carmen saw that something serious had happened. Lord Montague +had called. + +"Eh, what did he want?" said Mavick, surlily. + +Carmen looked up surprised. "What does anybody after a reception call +for?" + +"The Lord only knows." + +"He is the funniest little man," Evelyn ventured to say. + +"That is no way, child, to speak of the son of a duke," said Mavick, +relaxing a little. + +Carmen did not like the tone in which this was said, but she prudently +kept silent. And presently Evelyn continued: + +"He asked for you, papa, and said he wanted to pay his respects." + +"I am glad he wants to pay anything," was the ungracious answer. Still +Evelyn was not to be put down. + +"It was such a bright day in the Park. What were you doing all day, +papa?" + +"Why, my dear, I was engaged in Research; you will be pleased to know. +Looking after those ten millions." + +When the dinner was over, Carmen followed Mr. Mavick to his study. + +"What is the matter, Tom?" + +"Nothing uncommon. It's a beastly hole down there. The Board used to be +made up of gentlemen. Now there are such fellows as Ault, a black- +hearted scoundrel." + +"But he has no influence. He is nothing socially," said Carmen. + +"Neither is a wolf or a cyclone. But I don't care to talk about him. +Don't you see, I don't want to be bothered?" + +While these great events were taking place Philip was enjoying all the +tremors and delights of expectation which attend callow authorship. He +did not expect much, he said to himself, but deep down in his heart there +was that sweet hope, which fortunately always attends young writers, that +his would be an exceptional experience in the shoal of candidates for +fame, and he was secretly preparing himself not to be surprised if he +should "awake one morning and find himself famous." + +The first response was from Celia. She wrote warm-heartedly. She wrote +at length, analyzing the characters, recalling the striking scenes, and +praising without stint the conception and the working out of the +character of the heroine. She pointed out the little faults of +construction and of language, and then minimized them in comparison with +the noble motive and the unity and beauty of the whole. She told Philip +that she was proud of him, and then insisted that, when his biography, +life, and letters was published, it would appear, she hoped, that his +dear friend had just a little to do with inspiring him. It was exactly +the sort of letter an author likes to receive, critical, perfectly +impartial, and with entire understanding of his purpose. All the author +wants is to be understood. + +The letter from Alice was quite of another sort, a little shy in speaking +of the story, but full of affection. "Perhaps, dear Phil," she wrote, "I +ought not to tell you how much I like it, how it quite makes me blush in +its revelation of the secrets of a New England girl's heart. I read it +through fast, and then I read it again slowly. It seemed better even the +second time. I do think, Phil, it is a dear little book. Patience says +she hopes it will not become common; it is too fine to be nosed about by +the ordinary. I suppose you had to make it pathetic. Dear me! that is +just the truth of it. Forgive me for writing so freely. I hope it will +not be long before we see you. To think it is done by little Phil!" + +The most eagerly expected acknowledgment was, however, a disappointment. +Philip knew Mrs. Mavick too well by this time to expect a letter from her +daughter, but there might have been a line. But Mrs. Mavick wrote +herself. Her daughter, she said, had asked her to acknowledge the +receipt of his very charming story. When he had so many friends it was +very thoughtful in him to remember the acquaintances of last summer. She +hoped the book would have the success it deserved. + +This polite note was felt to be a slap in the face, but the effect of it +was softened a little later by a cordial and appreciative letter from +Miss McDonald, telling the author what great delight and satisfaction +they had had in reading it, and thanking him for a prose idyl that showed +in the old-fashioned way that common life was not necessarily vulgar. + +The critics seemed to Philip very slow in letting the public know of the +birth of the book. Presently, however, the little notices, all very much +alike, began to drop along, longer or shorter paragraphs, commonly in +undiscriminating praise of the beauty of the story, the majority of them +evidently written by reviewers who sat down to a pile of volumes to be +turned off, and who had not more than five or ten minutes to be lost. +Rarely, however, did any one condemn it, and that showed that it was +harmless. Mr. Brad had given it quite a lift in the Spectrum. The +notice was mainly personal--the first work of a brilliant young man at +the bar who was destined to go high in his profession, unless literature +should, fortunately for the public, have stronger attractions for him. +That such a country idyl should be born amid law-books was sufficiently +remarkable. It was an open secret that the scene of the story was the +birthplace of the author--a lovely village that was brought into notice a +summer ago as the chosen residence of Thomas Mavick and his family. + +Eagerly looked for at first, the newspaper notices soon palled upon +Philip, the uniform tone of good-natured praise, unanimous in the +extravagance of unmeaning adjectives. Now and then he welcomed one that +was ill-natured and cruelly censorious. That was a relief. And yet +there were some reviews of a different sort, half a dozen in all, and +half of them from Western journals, which took the book seriously, saw +its pathos, its artistic merit, its failure of construction through +inexperience. A few commended it warmly to readers who loved ideal +purity and could recognize the noble in common life. And some, whom +Philip regarded as authorities, welcomed a writer who avoided +sensationalism, and predicted for him an honorable career in letters, if +he did not become self-conscious and remained true to his ideals. +The book clearly had not made a hit, the publishers had sold one edition +and ordered half another, and no longer regarded the author as a risk. +But, better than this, the book had attracted the attention of many +lovers of literature. Philip was surprised day after day by meeting +people who had read it. His name began to be known in a small circle who +are interested in the business, and it was not long before he had offers +from editors, who were always on the lookout for new writers of promise, +to send something for their magazines. And, perhaps more flattering than +all, he began to have society invitations to dine, and professional +invitations to those little breakfasts that publishers give to old +writers and to young whose names are beginning to be spoken of. All this +was very exhilarating and encouraging. And yet Philip was not allowed to +be unduly elated by the attention of his fellow-craftsmen, for he soon +found that a man's consequence in this circle, as well as with the great +public, depended largely upon the amount of the sale of his book. How +else should it be rated, when a very popular author, by whom Philip sat +one day at luncheon, confessed that he never read books? + +"So," said Mr. Sharp, one morning, "I see you have gone into literature, +Mr. Burnett." + +"Not very deep," replied Philip with a smile, as he rose from his desk. + +"Going to drop law, eh?" + +"I haven't had occasion to drop much of anything yet," said Philip, still +smiling. + +"Oh well, two masters, you know," and Mr. Sharp passed on to his room. + +It was not, however, Mr. Sharp's opinion that Philip was concerned about. +The polite note from Mrs. Mavick stuck in his mind. It was a civil way +of telling him that all summer debts were now paid, and that his +relations with the house of Mavick were at an end. This conclusion was +forced upon him when he left his card, a few days after the reception, +and had the ill luck not to find the ladies at home. The situation had +no element of tragedy in it, but Philip was powerless. He could not +storm the house. He had no visible grievance. There was nothing to +fight. He had simply run against one of the invisible social barriers +that neither offer resistance nor yield. No one had shown him any +discourtesy that society would recognize as a matter of offense. Nay, +more than that, it could have no sympathy with him. It was only the case +of a presumptuous and poor young man who was after a rich girl. The +position itself was ignoble, if it were disclosed. + +Yet fortune, which sometimes likes to play the mischief with the best +social arrangements, did give Philip an unlooked-for chance. At a dinner +given by the lady who had been Philip's only partner at the Mavick +reception, and who had read his story and had written to "her partner" a +most kind little note regretting that she had not known she was dancing +with an author, and saying that she and her husband would be delighted to +make his acquaintance, Philip was surprised by the presence of the +Mavicks in the drawing-room. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Mavick seemed +especially pleased when they encountered him, and in fact his sole +welcome from the family was in the eyes of Evelyn. + +The hostess had supposed that the Mavicks would be pleased to meet the +rising author, and in still further carrying out her benevolent purpose, +and with, no doubt, a sympathy in the feelings of the young, Mrs. Van +Cortlandt had assigned Miss Mavick to Mr. Burnett. It was certainly a +natural arrangement, and yet it called a blank look to Mrs. Mavick's +face, that Philip saw, and put her in a bad humor which needed an effort +for her to conceal it from Mr. Van Cortlandt. The dinner-party was +large, and her ill-temper was not assuaged by the fact that the young +people were seated at a distance from her and on the same side of the +table. + +"How charming your daughter is looking, Mrs. Mavick!" Mr. Van Cortlandt +began, by way of being agreeable. Mrs. Mavick inclined her head. "That +young Burnett seems to be a nice sort of chap; Mrs. Van Cortlandt says he +is very clever." + +"Yes?" + +"I haven't read his book. They say he is a lawyer." + +"Lawyer's clerk, I believe," said Mrs. Mavick, indifferently. + +"Authors are pretty plenty nowadays." + +"That's a fact. Everybody writes. I don't see how all the poor devils +live." Mr. Van Cortlandt had now caught the proper tone, and the +conversation drifted away from personalities. + +It was a very brilliant dinner, but Philip could not have given much +account of it. He made an effort to be civil to his left-hand neighbor, +and he affected an ease in replying to cross-table remarks. He fancied +that he carried himself very well, and so he did for a man unexpectedly +elevated to the seventh heaven, seated for two hours beside the girl +whose near presence filled him with indescribable happiness. Every look, +every tone of her voice thrilled him. How dear she was! how adorable she +was! How radiantly happy she seemed to be whenever she turned her face +towards him to ask a question or to make a reply! + +At moments his passion seemed so overmastering that he could hardly +restrain himself from whispering, "Evelyn, I love you." In a hundred +ways he was telling her so. And she must understand. She must know that +this was not an affair of the moment, but that there was condensed in it +all the constant devotion of months and months. + +A woman, even any girl with the least social experience, would have seen +this. Was Evelyn's sympathetic attention, her evident enjoyment in +talking with him, any evidence of a personal interest, or only a young +girl's enjoyment of her new position in the world? That she liked him he +was sure. Did she, was she beginning in any degree to return his +passion? He could not tell, for guilelessness in a woman is as +impenetrable as coquetry. + +Of what did they talk? A stenographer would have made a meagre report of +it, for the most significant part of this conversation of two fresh, +honest natures was not in words. One thing, however, Philip could bring +away with him that was not a mere haze of delicious impressions. She had +been longing, she said, to talk to him about his story. She told him how +eagerly she had read it, and in talking about its meaning she revealed to +him her inner thought more completely than she could have done in any +other way, her sympathy with his mind, her interest in his work. + +"Have you begun another?" she asked, at last. + +"No, not on paper." + +"But you must. It must be such a world to you. I can't imagine anything +so fine as that. There is so much about life to be said. +To make people see it as it is; yes, and as it ought to be. Will you?" + +"You forget that I am a lawyer." + +"And you prefer to be that, a lawyer, rather than an author?" + +"It is not exactly what I prefer, Miss Mavick." + +"Why not? Does anybody do anything well if his heart is not in it?" + +"But circumstances sometimes compel a man." + +"I like better for men to compel circumstances," the girl exclaimed, with +that disposition to look at things in the abstract that Philip so well +remembered. + +"Perhaps I do not make myself understood. One must have a career." + +"A career?" And Evelyn looked puzzled for a moment. "You mean for +himself, for his own self?" There is a lawyer who comes to see papa. +I've been in the room sometimes, when they don't mind. Such talk about +schemes, and how to do this and that, and twisting about. And not a word +about anything any of the time. And one day when he was waiting for papa +I talked with him. You would have been surprised. + +I told papa that I could not find anything to interest him. Papa laughed +and said it was my fault, he was one of the sharpest lawyers in the city. +Would you rather be that than to write?" + +"Oh, all lawyers are not like that. And, don't you know, literature +doesn't pay." + +"Yes, I have heard that." And then she thought a minute and with a +quizzical look continued: "That is such a queer word, 'pay.' McDonald +says that it pays to be good. Do you think, Mr. Burnett, that law would +pay you?" + +Evidently the girl had a standard of judging people that was not much in +use. + +Before they rose from the table, Philip asked, speaking low, "Miss +Mavick, won't you give me a violet from your bunch in memory of this +evening?" + +Evelyn hesitated an instant, and then, without looking up, disengaged +three, and shyly laid them at her left hand. "I like the number three +better." + +Philip covered the flowers with his hand, and said, "I will keep them +always." + +"That is a long time," Evelyn answered, but still without looking up. +But when they rose the color mounted to her cheeks, and Philip thought +that the glorious eyes turned upon him were full of trust. + +"It is all your doing," said Carmen, snappishly, when Mavick joined her +in the drawing-room. + +"What is?" + +"You insisted upon having him at the reception." + +"Burnett? Oh, stuff, he isn't a fool!" + +There was not much said as the three drove home. Evelyn, flushed with +pleasure and absorbed in her own thoughts, saw that something had gone +wrong with her mother and kept silent. Mr. Mavick at length broke the +silence with: + +"Did you have a good time, child?" + +"Oh, yes," replied Evelyn, cheerfully, "and Mrs. Van Cortlandt was very +sweet to me. Don't you think she is very hospitable, mamma?" + +"Tries to be," Mrs. Mavick replied, in no cordial tone. "Good-natured +and eccentric. She picks up the queerest lot of people. You can never +know whom you will not meet at her house. Just now she goes in for being +literary." + +Evelyn was not so reticent with McDonald. While she was undressing she +disclosed that she had had a beautiful evening, that she was taken out by +Mr. Burnett, and talked about his story. + +"And, do you know, I think I almost persuaded him to write another." + +"It's an awful responsibility," dryly said the shrewd Scotch woman, +"advising young men what to do." + + + + +XVIII + +Upon the recollection of this dinner Philip maintained his hope and +courage for a long time. The day after it, New York seemed more +brilliant to him than it had ever been. In the afternoon he rode down to +the Battery. It was a mild winter day, with a haze in the atmosphere +that softened all outlines and gave an enchanting appearance to the +harbor shores. The water was silvery, and he watched a long time the +craft plying on it--the businesslike ferry-boats, the spiteful tugs, the +great ocean steamers, boldly pushing out upon the Atlantic through the +Narrows or cautiously drawing in as if weary with the buffeting of the +waves. The scene kindled in him a vigorous sense of life, of prosperity, +of longing for the activity of the great world. + +Clearly he must do something and not be moping in indecision. +Uncertainty is harder to bear than disaster itself. When he thought of +Evelyn, and he always thought of her, it seemed cowardly to hesitate. +Celia, after her first outburst of enthusiasm, had returned to her +cautious advice. The law was much surer. Literature was a mere chance. +Why not be content with his little success and buckle down to his +profession? Perhaps by-and-by he would have leisure to indulge his +inclination. The advice seemed sound. + +But there was Evelyn, with her innocent question. + +"Would the law pay you?" Evelyn? Would he be more likely to win her by +obeying the advice of Celia, or by trusting to Evelyn's inexperienced +discernment? Indeed, what chance was there to win her at all? What had +he to offer her? + +His spirits invariably fell when he thought of submitting his pretensions +to the great man of Wall Street or to his worldly wife. Already it was +the gossip of the clubs that Lord Montague was a frequent visitor at the +Mavicks', that he was often seen in their box at the opera, and that Mrs. +Mavick had said to Bob Shafter that it was a scandal to talk of Lord +Montague as a fortune-hunter. He was a most kind-hearted, domestic man. +She should not join in the newspaper talk about him. He belonged to an +old English family, and she should be civil to him. Generally she did +not fancy Englishmen, and this one she liked neither better nor worse +because he had a title. And when you came to that, why shouldn't any +American girl marry her equal? + +As to Montague, he was her friend, and she knew that he had not the least +intention at present of marrying anybody. And then the uncharitable +gossip went on, that there was the Count de l'Auney, and that Mrs. Mavick +was playing the one off against the other. + +As the days went on and spring began to appear in the light, fleeting +clouds in the blue sky and in the greening foliage in the city squares, +Philip became more and more restless. The situation was intolerable. +Evelyn he could never see. Perhaps she wondered that he made no effort +to see her. Perhaps she never thought of him at all, and simply, like an +obedient child, accepted her mother's leading, and was getting to like +that society life which was recorded in the daily journals. What did it +matter to him whether he stuck to the law or launched himself into the +Bohemia of literature, so long as doubt about Evelyn haunted him day and +night? If she was indifferent to him, he would know the worst, and go +about his business like a man. Who were the Mavicks, anyway? + +Alice had written him once that Evelyn was a dear girl, no one could help +loving her; but she did not like the blood of father and mother. "And +remember, Phil--you must let me say this--there is not a drop of mean +blood in your ancestors." + +Philip smiled at this. He was not in love with Mrs. Mavick nor with her +husband. They were for him simply guardians of a treasure he very much +coveted, and yet they were to a certain extent ennobled in his mind as +the authors of the being he worshiped. If it should be true that his +love for her was returned, it would not be possible even for them to +insist upon a course that would make their daughter unhappy for life. +They might reject him--no doubt he was a wholly unequal match for the +heiress--but could they, to the very end, be cruel to her? + +Thus the ingenuous young man argued with himself, until it seemed plain +to him that if Evelyn loved him, and the conviction grew that she did, +all obstacles must give way to this overmastering passion of his life. +If he were living in a fool's paradise he would know it, and he ventured +to put his fortune to the test of experiment. The only manly course was +to gain the consent of the parents to ask their daughter to marry him; if +not that, then to be permitted to see her. He was nobly resolved to +pledge himself to make no proposals to her without their approval. + +This seemed a very easy thing to do until he attempted it. He would +simply happen into Mr. Mavick's office, and, as Mr. Mavick frequently +talked familiarly with him, he would contrive to lead the conversation to +Evelyn, and make his confession. He mapped out the whole conversation, +and even to the manner in which he would represent his own prospects and +ambitions and his hopes of happiness. Of course Mr. Mavick would evade, +and say that it would be a long time before they should think of +disposing of their daughter's hand, and that--well, he must see himself +that he was in no position to support a wife accustomed to luxury; +in short, that one could not create situations in real life as he could +in novels, that personally he could give him no encouragement, +but that he would consult his wife. + +This dream got no further than a private rehearsal. When he called at +Mr. Mavick's office he learned that Mr. Mavick had gone to the Pacific +coast, and that he would probably be absent several weeks. But Philip +could not wait. He resolved to end his torture by a bold stroke. +He wrote to Mrs. Mavick, saying that he had called at Mr. Mavick's +office, and, not finding him at home, he begged that she would give him +an interview concerning a matter of the deepest personal interest to +himself. + +Mrs. Mavick understood in an instant what this meant. She had feared it. +Her first impulse was to write him a curt note of a character that would +end at once all intercourse. On second thought she determined to see +him, to discover how far the affair had gone, and to have it out with him +once for all. She accordingly wrote that she would have a few minutes at +half past five the next day. + +As Philip went up the steps of the Mavick house at the appointed hour, he +met coming out of the door--and it seemed a bad omen--Lord Montague, who +seemed in high spirits, stared at Philip without recognition, whistled +for his cab, and drove away. + +Mrs. Mavick received him politely, and, without offering her hand, asked +him to be seated. Philip was horribly embarrassed. The woman was so +cool, so civil, so perfectly indifferent. He stammered out something +about the weather and the coming spring, and made an allusion to the +dinner at Mrs. Van Cortlandt's. Mrs. Mavick was not in the mood to help +him with any general conversation, and presently said, looking at her +watch: + +"You wrote me that you wanted to consult me. Is there anything I can do +for you?" + +"It was a personal matter," said Philip, getting control of himself. + +"So you wrote. Mr. Mavick is away, and if it is in regard to anything in +your office, any promotion, you know, I don't understand anything about +business." And Mrs. Mavick smiled graciously. + +"No, it is not about the office. I should not think of troubling my +friends in that way. It is just that--" + +"Oh, I see," Mrs. Mavick interrupted, with good-humor, "it's about the +novel. I hear that it has sold very well. And you are not certain +whether its success will warrant your giving up your clerkship. Now as +for me," and she leaned back in her chair, with the air of weighing the +chances in her mind, "it doesn't seem to me that a writer--" + +"No, it is not that," said Philip, leaning forward and looking her full +in the face with all the courage he could summon, "it is your daughter." + +"What!" cried Mrs. Mavick, in a tone of incredulous surprise. + +"I was afraid you would think me very presumptuous." + +"Presumptuous! Why, she is a child. Do you know what you are talking +about?" + +"My mother married at eighteen," said Philip, gently. + +"That is an interesting piece of information, but I don't see its +bearing. Will you tell me, Mr. Burnett, what nonsense you have got into +your head?" + +"I want," and Philip spoke very gently--"I want, Mrs. Mavick, permission +to see your daughter." + +"Ah! I thought in Rivervale, Mr. Burnett, that you were a gentleman. +You presume upon my invitation to this house, in an underhand way, +to--What right have you?" + +Mrs. Mavick was so beside herself that she could hardly speak. The lines +in her face deepened into wrinkles and scowls. There was something +malevolent and mean in it. Philip was astonished at the transformation. +And she looked old and ugly in her passion. + +"You!" she repeated. + +"It is only this, Mrs. Mavick," and Philip spoke calmly, though his blood +was boiling at her insulting manner--"it is only this--I love your +daughter." + +"And you have told her this?" + +"No, never, never a word." + +"Does she know anything of this absurd, this silly attempt?" + +"I am afraid not." + +"Ah! Then you have spared yourself one humiliation. My daughter's +affections are not likely to be placed where her parents do not approve. +Her mother is her only confidante. I can tell you, Mr. Burnett, and when +you are over this delusion you will thank me for being so plain with you, +my daughter would laugh at the idea of such a proposal. But I will not +have her annoyed by impecunious aspirants." + +"Madam!" cried Philip, rising, with a flushed face, and then he +remembered that he was talking to Evelyn's mother, and uttered no other +word. + +"This is ended." And then, with a slight change of manner, she went on: +"You must see how impossible it is. You are a man of honor. + +"I should like to think well of you. I shall trust to your honor that +you will never try, by letter or otherwise, to hold any communication +with her." + +"I shall obey you," said Philip, quite stiffly, "because you are her +mother. But I love her, and I shall always love her." + +Mrs. Mavick did not condescend to any reply to this, but she made a cold +bow of dismissal and turned away from him. He left the house and walked +away, scarcely knowing in which direction he went, anger for a time being +uppermost in his mind, chagrin and defeat following, and with it the +confused feeling of a man who has passed through a cyclone and been +landed somewhere amid the scattered remnants of his possessions. + +As he strode away he was intensely humiliated. He had been treated like +an inferior. He had voluntarily put himself in a position to be +insulted. Contempt had been poured upon him, his feelings had been +outraged, and there was no way in which he could show his resentment. +Presently, as his anger subsided, he began to look at the matter more +sanely. What had happened? He had made an honorable proposal. But what +right had he to expect that it would be favorably considered? +He knew all along that it was most unlikely that Mrs. Mavick would +entertain for a moment idea of such a match. He knew what would be the +unanimous opinion of society about it. In the case of any other young +man aspiring to the hand of a rich girl, he knew very well what he should +have thought. + +Well, he had done nothing dishonorable. And as he reviewed the bitter +interview he began to console himself with the thought that he had not +lost his temper, that he had said nothing to be regretted, nothing that +he should not have said to the mother of the girl he loved. There was an +inner comfort in this, even if his life were ruined. + +Mrs. Mavick, on the contrary, had not so good reason to be satisfied with +herself. It was a principle of her well-ordered life never to get into a +passion, never to let herself go, never to reveal herself by intemperate +speech, never to any one, except occasionally to her husband when his +cold sarcasm became intolerable. She felt, as soon as the door closed on +Philip, that she had made a blunder, and yet in her irritation she +committed a worse one. She went at once to Evelyn's room, resolved to +make it perfectly sure that the Philip episode was ended. She had had +suspicions about her daughter ever since the Van Cortlandt dinner. She +would find out if they were justified, and she would act decidedly before +any further mischief was done. Evelyn was alone, and her mother kissed +her fondly several times and then threw herself into an easy-chair and +declared she was tired. + +"My dear, I have had such an unpleasant interview." + +"I am sorry," said Evelyn, seating herself on the arm of the chair and +putting her arm round her mother's neck. "With whom, mamma?" + +"Oh, with that Mr. Burnett." Mrs. Mavick felt a nervous start in the arm +that caressed her. + +"Here?" + +"Yes, he came to see your father, I fancy, about some business. I think +he is not getting on very well." + +"Why, his book--" + +"I know, but that amounts to nothing. There is not much chance for a +lawyer's clerk who gets bitten with the idea that he can write." + +"If he was in trouble, mamma," said Evelyn, softly, "then you were good +to him." + +"I tried to be," Mrs. Mavick half sighed, "but you can't do anything with +such people" (by 'such people' Mrs. Mavick meant those who have no money) +"when they don't get on. They are never reasonable. And he was in such +an awful bad temper. You cannot show any kindness to such people without +exposing yourself. I think he presumes upon his acquaintance with your +father. It was most disagreeable, and he was so rude" (a little thrill +in the arm again)--"well, not exactly rude, but he was not a bit nice to +me, and I am afraid I showed by my looks that I was irritated. He was +just as disagreeable as he could be. + +"He met Lord Montague on the steps, and he had something spiteful to say +about him. I had to tell him he was presuming a good deal on his +acquaintance, and that I considered his manner insulting. He flung out +of the house very high and mighty." + +"That was not a bit like him, mamma." + +"We didn't know him. That is all. Now we do, and I am thankful we do. +He will never come here again." + +Evelyn was very still for a moment, and then she said: "I'm very sorry +for it all. It must be some misunderstanding." + +"Of course, it is dreadful to be so disappointed in people. But we have +to learn. I don't know anything about his misunderstanding, but I did +not misunderstand what he said. At any rate, after such an exposition we +can have no further intercourse with him. You will not care to see any +one who treated your mother in this way? If you love me, you cannot be +friendly with him. I know you would not like to be." + +Evelyn did not reply for a moment. Her silence revealed the fact to the +shrewd woman that she had not intervened a day too soon. + +"You promise me, dear, that you will put the whole thing out of your +mind?" and she drew her daughter closer to her and kissed her. + +And then Evelyn said slowly: "I shall not have any friends whom you do +not approve, but, mamma, I cannot be unjust in my mind." + +And Mrs. Mavick had the good sense not to press the question further. +She still regarded Evelyn as a child. Her naivete, her simplicity, her +ignorance of social conventions and of the worldly wisdom which to Mrs. +Mavick was the sum of all knowledge misled her mother as to her power of +discernment and her strength of character. Indeed, Mrs. Mavick had only +the slightest conception of that range of thought and feeling in which +the girl habitually lived, and of the training which at the age of +eighteen had given her discipline, and great maturity of judgment as +well. She would be obedient, but she was incapable of duplicity, and +therefore she had said as plainly as possible that whatever the trouble +might be she would not be unjust to Philip. + +The interview with her mother left her in a very distressed state of +mind. It is a horrible disillusion when a girl begins to suspect that +her mother is not sincere, and that her ideals of life are mean. This +knowledge may exist with the deepest affection--indeed, in a noble mind, +with an inward tenderness and an almost divine pity. How many times have +we seen a daughter loyal to a frivolous, worldly-minded, insincere +mother, shielding her and exhibiting to the censorious world the utmost +love and trust! + +Evelyn was far from suspecting the extent of her mother's duplicity, but +her heart told her that an attempt had been made to mislead her, and that +there must be some explanation of Philip's conduct that would be +consistent with her knowledge of his character. And, as she endeavored +to pierce this mystery, it dawned upon her that there had been a method +in throwing her so much into the society of Lord Montague, and that it +was unnatural that such a friend as Philip should be seen so seldom--only +twice since the days in Rivervale. Naturally the very reverse of +suspicious, she had been dreaming on things to come in the seclusion of +her awakening womanhood, without the least notion that the freedom of her +own soul was to be interfered with by any merely worldly demands. But +now things that had occurred, and that her mother had said, came back to +her with a new meaning, and her trustful spirit was overwhelmed. And +there, in the silence of her chamber, began the fierce struggle between +desire and what she called her duty--a duty imposed from without. + +She began to perceive that she was not free, that she was a part of a +social machine, the power of which she had not at all apprehended, and +that she was powerless in its clutch. She might resist, but peace was +gone. She had heretofore found peace in obedience, but when she +consulted her own heart she knew that she could not find peace in +obedience now. To a girl differently reared, perhaps, subterfuge, or +some manoeuvring justified by the situation, might have been resorted to. +But such a thing never occurred to Evelyn. Everything looked +dark before her, as she more clearly understood her mother's attitude, +and for the first time in years she could do nothing but give way to +emotions. + +"Why, Evelyn, you have been crying!" exclaimed the governess, who came to +seek her. "What is the matter?" + +Evelyn arose and threw herself on her friend's neck for a moment, and +then, brushing away the tears, said, with an attempt to smile, "Oh, +nothing; I got thinking, thinking, thinking, and Don't you ever get blue, +McDonald?" + +"Not often," said the Scotchwoman, gravely. "But, dear, you have nothing +in the world to make you so." + +"No, no, nothing;" and then she broke down again, and threw herself upon +McDonald's bosom in a passion of sobbing. "I can't help it. Mamma says +Phil--Mr. Burnett--is never to come to this house again. What have I +done? And he will think--he will think that I hate him." + +McDonald drew the girl into her lap, and with uncommon gentleness +comforted her with caresses. + +"Dear child," she said, "crosses must come into our lives; we cannot +help that. Your mother is no doubt doing what she thinks best for your +own happiness. Nothing can really hurt us for long, you know that well, +except what we do to ourselves. I never told you why I came to this +country--I didn't want to sadden you with my troubles--but now I want you +to understand me better. It is a long story." + +But it was not very long in the telling, for the narrator found that what +seemed to her so long in the suffering could be conveyed to another in +only a few words. And the story was not in any of its features new, +except to the auditor. There had been a long attachment, passionate love +and perfect trust, long engagement, marriage postponed because both were +poor, and the lover struggling into his profession, and then, it seemed +sudden and unaccountable, his marriage with some one else. "It was not +like him," said the governess in conclusion; "it was his ambition to get +on that blinded him." + +"And he, was he happy?" asked Evelyn. + +"I heard that he was not" (and she spoke reluctantly); "I fear not. How +could he be?" And the governess seemed overwhelmed in a flood of tender +and painful memories. "That was over twenty years ago. And I have been +happy, my darling, I have had such a happy life with you. + +"I never dreamed I could have such a blessing. And you, child, will be +happy too; I know it." + +And the two women, locked in each other's arms, found that consolation in +sympathy which steals away half the grief of the world. Ah! who knows a +woman's heart? + + +For Philip there was in these days no such consolation. It was a man's +way not to seek any, to roll himself up in his trouble like a hibernating +bear. And yet there were times when he had an intolerable longing for a +confidant, for some one to whom he could relieve himself of part of his +burden by talking. To Celia he could say nothing. Instinct told him +that he should not go to her. Of the sympathy of Alice he was sure, but +why inflict his selfish grief on her tender heart? But he was writing to +her often, he was talking to her freely about his perplexities, about +leaving the office and trusting himself to the pursuit of literature in +some way. And, in answer to direct questions, he told her that he had +seen Evelyn only a few times, and, the fact was, that Mrs. Mavick had cut +him dead. He could not give to his correspondent a very humorous turn to +this situation, for Alice knew--had she not seen them often together, and +did she not know the depths of Philip's passion? And she read between +the lines the real state of the case. Alice was indignant, but she did +not think it wise to make too much of the incident. Of Evelyn she wrote +affectionately--she knew she was a noble and high-minded girl. As to her +mother, she dismissed her with a country estimate. "You know, Phil, +that I never thought she was a lady." + +But the lover was not to be wholly without comfort. He met by chance one +day on the Avenue Miss McDonald, and her greeting was so cordial that he +knew that he had at least one friend in the house of Mavick. + +It was a warm spring day, a stray day sent in advance, as it were, to +warn the nomads of the city that it was time to move on. The tramps in +Washington Square felt the genial impulse, and, seeking the shaded +benches, began to dream of the open country, the hospitable farmhouses, +the nooning by wayside springs, and the charm of wandering at will among +a tolerant and not too watchful people. Having the same abundant +leisure, the dwellers up-town--also nomads--were casting in their minds +how best to employ it, and the fortunate ones were already gathering +together their flocks and herds and preparing to move on to their camps +at Newport or among the feeding-hills of the New-England coast. + +The foliage of Central Park, already heavy, still preserved the freshness +of its new birth, and invited the stroller on the Avenue to its +protecting shade. At Miss McDonald's suggestion they turned in and found +a secluded seat. + +"I often come here," she said to Philip; "it is almost as peaceful as the +wilderness itself." + +To Philip also it seemed peaceful, but the soothing influence he found in +it was that he was sitting with the woman who saw Evelyn hourly, who had +been with her only an hour ago. + +"Yes," she said, in reply to a question, "everybody is well. We are +going to leave town earlier than usual this summer, as soon as Mr. Mavick +returns. Mrs. Mavick is going to open her Newport house; she says she +has had enough of the country. It is still very amusing to me to see how +you Americans move about with the seasons, just like the barbarians of +Turkestan, half the year in summer camps and half the year in winter +camps." + +"Perhaps," said Philip, "it is because the social pasturage gets poor." + +"Maybe," replied the governess, continuing the conceit, "only the horde +keeps pretty well together, wherever it is. I know we are to have a very +gay season. Lots of distinguished foreigners and all that." + +"But," said Philip, "don't England and the Continent long for the +presence of Americans in the season in the same way?" + +"Not exactly. It is the shop-keepers and hotels that sigh for the +Americans. I don't think that American shop-keepers expect much of +foreigners." + +"And you are going soon? I suppose Miss Mavick is eager to go also," +said Philip, trying to speak indifferently. + +Miss McDonald turned towards him with a look of perfect understanding, +and then replied, "No, not eager; she hasn't been in her usual spirits +lately--no, not ill--and probably the change will be good for her. +It is her first season, you know, and that is always exciting to a girl. +Perhaps it is only the spring weather." + +It was some moments before either of them spoke again, and then Miss +McDonald looked up--"Oh, Mr. Burnett, I have wanted to see you and have +a talk with you about your novel. I could say so little in my note. We +read it first together and then I read it alone, rather to sit in +judgment on it, you know. I liked it better the second time, but I could +see the faults of construction, and I could see, too, why it will be more +popular with a few people than with the general public. You don't mind +my saying--" + +"Go on, the words of a friend." + +"Yes, I know, are sometimes hardest to bear. Well, it is lovely, ideal, +but it seems to me you are still a little too afraid of human nature. +You are afraid to say things that are common. And the deep things of +life are pretty much all common. No, don't interrupt me. I love the +story just as it is. I am glad you wrote it as you did. It was natural, +in your state of experience, that you should do it. But in your next, +having got rid of what was on top of your mind, so to speak, you will +take a firmer, more confident hold of life. You are not offended?" + +"No, indeed," cried Philip. "I am very grateful. No doubt you are +right. It seems to me, now that I am detached from it, as if it were +only a sort of prelude to something else." + +"Well, you must not let my single opinion influence you too much, for I +must in honesty tell you another thing. Evelyn will not have a word of +criticism of it. She says it is like a piece of music, and the impudent +thing declares that she does not expect a Scotchwoman to understand +anything but ballad music." + +Philip laughed at this, such a laugh as he had not indulged in for many +days. "I hope you don't quarrel about such a little thing." + +"Not seriously. She says I may pick away at the story--and I like to see +her bristle up--but that she looks at the spirit." + +"God bless her," said Philip under his breath. + +Miss McDonald rose, and they walked out into the Avenue again. How +delightful was the genial air, the light, the blue sky of spring! +How the brilliant Avenue, now filling up with afternoon equipages, +sparkled in the sunshine! + +When they parted, Miss McDonald gave him her hand and held his a moment, +looking into his eyes. "Mr. Burnett, authors need some encouragement. +When I left Evelyn she was going to her room with your book in her hand." + + + + +XIX + +Why should not Philip trust the future? He was a free man. He had given +no hostages to fortune. Even if he did not succeed, no one else would be +involved in his failure. Why not follow his inclination, the dream of +his boyhood? + +He was at liberty to choose for himself. Everybody in America is; this +is the proclamation of its blessed independence. Are we any better off +for the privilege of following first one inclination and then another, +which is called making a choice? Are they not as well off, and on the +whole as likely to find their right place, who inherit their callings in +life, whose careers are mapped out from the cradle by circumstance and +convention? How much time do we waste in futile experiment? Freedom to +try everything, which is before the young man, is commonly freedom to +excel in nothing. + +There are, of course, exceptions. The blacksmith climbs into a city +pulpit. The popular preacher becomes an excellent insurance agent. The +saloon-keeper develops into the legislator, and wears the broadcloth and +high hat of the politician. The brakeman becomes the railway magnate, +and the college graduate a grocer's clerk, and the messenger-boy, picking +up by chance one day the pen, and finding it run easier than his legs, +becomes a power on a city journal, and advises society how to conduct +itself and the government how to make war and peace. All this adds to +the excitement and interest of life. On the whole, we say that people +get shaken into their right places, and the predetermined vocation is +often a mistake. There is the anecdote of a well-known clergyman who, +being in a company with his father, an aged and distinguished doctor of +divinity, raised his monitory finger and exclaimed, "Ah, you spoiled a +first-rate carpenter when you made a poor minister of me." + +Philip thought he was calmly arguing the matter with himself. How often +do we deliberately weigh such a choice as we would that of another +person, testing our inclination by solid reason? Perhaps no one could +have told Philip what he ought to do, but every one who knew him, and the +circumstances, knew what he would do. He was, in fact, already doing it +while he was paltering with his ostensible profession. But he never +would have confessed, probably he would then have been ashamed to +confess, how much his decision to break with the pretense of law was +influenced by the thought of what a certain dark little maiden, whose +image was always in his mind, would wish him to do, and by the very +remarkable fact that she was seen going to her room with his well-read +story in her hand. Perhaps it was under her pillow at night! + +Good-luck seemed to follow his decision--as it often does when a man +makes a questionable choice, as if the devil had taken an interest in his +downward road to prosperity. But Philip really gained a permanent +advantage. The novel had given him a limited reputation and very little +money. Yet it was his stepping-stone, and when he applied to his +publishers and told them of his decision, they gave him some work as a +reader for the house. At first this was fitful and intermittent, but as +he showed both literary discrimination and tact in judging of the market, +his services were more in request, and slowly he acquired confidential +relations with the house. Whatever he knew, his knowledge of languages +and his experience abroad, came into play, and he began to have more +confidence in himself, as he saw that his somewhat desultory education +had, after all, a market value. + +The rather long period of his struggle, which is a common struggle, and +often disheartening, need not be dwelt on here. We can anticipate by +saying that he obtained in the house a permanent and responsible +situation, with an income sufficient for a bachelor without habits of +self-indulgence. It was not the crowning of a noble ambition, it was not +in the least the career he had dreamed of, but it gave him support and a +recognized position, and, above all, did not divert him from such +creative work as he was competent to do. Nay, he found very soon that +the feeling of security, without any sordid worry, gave freedom to his +imagination. There was something stimulating in the atmosphere of books +and manuscripts and in that world of letters which seems so large to +those who live in it. Fortunately, also, having a support, he was not +tempted to debase his talent by sensational ventures. What he wrote for +this or that magazine he wrote to please himself, and, although he saw no +fortune that way, the little he received was an encouragement as well as +an appreciable addition to his income. + +There are two sorts of success in letters as in life generally. +The one is achieved suddenly, by a dash, and it lasts as long as the +author can keep the attention of the spectators upon his scintillating +novelties. When the sparks fade there is darkness. How many such +glittering spectacles this century has witnessed! + +There is another sort of success which does not startlingly or at once +declare itself. Sometimes it comes with little observation. The +reputation is slowly built up, as by a patient process of nature. +It is curious, as Philip wrote once in an essay, to see this unfolding in +Lowell's life. There was no one moment when he launched into great +popularity--nay, in detail, he seemed to himself not to have made the +strike that ambition is always expecting. But lo! the time came when, by +universal public consent, which was in the nature of a surprise to him, +he had a high and permanent place in the world of letters. + +In anticipating Philip's career, however, it must not be understood that +he had attained any wide public recognition. He was simply enrolled in +the great army of readers and was serving his apprenticeship. He was +recognized as a capable man by those who purvey in letters to the +entertainment of the world. Even this little foothold was not easily +gained in a day, as the historian discovered in reading some bundles of +old letters which Philip wrote in this time of his novitiate to Celia and +to his cousin Alice. + +It was against Celia's most strenuous advice that he had trusted himself +to a literary career. "I see, my dear friend," she wrote, +in reply to his announcement that he was going that day to Mr. Hunt to +resign his position, "that you are not happy, but whatever your +disappointment or disillusion, you will not better yourself by +surrendering a regular occupation. You live too much in the imagination +already." + +Philip fancied, with that fatuity common to his sex, that he had worn an +impenetrable mask in regard to his wild passion for Evelyn, and did not +dream that, all along, Celia had read him like an open book. She judged +Philip quite accurately. It was herself that she did not know, and she +would have repelled as nonsense the suggestion that her own restlessness +and her own changing experiments in occupation were due to the +unsatisfied longings of a woman's heart. + +"You must not think," the letter went on, "that I want to dictate, but I +have noticed that men--it may be different with women--only succeed by +taking one path and diligently walking in it. And literature is not a +career, it is just a toss up, a lottery, and woe to you if you once draw +a lucky number--you will always be expecting another . . . You say +that I am a pretty one to give advice, for I am always chopping and +changing myself. Well, from the time you were a little boy, did I ever +give you but one sort of advice? I have been constant in that. And as +to myself, you are unjust. I have always had one distinct object in +life, and that I have pursued. I wanted to find out about life, to have +experience, and then do what I could do best, and what needed most to be +done. Why did I not stick to teaching in that woman's college? Well, I +began to have doubts, I began to experiment on my pupils. You will +laugh, but I will give you a specimen. One day I put a question to my +literature class, and I found out that not one of them knew how to boil +potatoes. They were all getting an education, and hardly one of them +knew how much the happiness of a home depends upon having the potatoes +mealy and not soggy. It was so in everything. How are we going to live +when we are all educated, without knowing how to live? Then I found that +the masses here in New York did not know any better than the classes how +to live. Don't think it is just a matter of cooking. It is knowing how, +generally, to make the most of yourself and of your opportunities, and +have a nice world to live in, a thrifty, self-helpful, disciplined world. +Is education giving us this? And then we think that organization will do +it, organization instead of self-development. We think we can organize +life, as they are trying to organize art. They have organized art as +they have the production of cotton. + +"Did I tell you I was in that? No? I used to draw in school, and after +I had worked in the Settlement here in New York, and while I was working +down on the East Side, it came over me that maybe I had one talent +wrapped in a napkin; and I have been taking lessons in Fifty-seventh +Street with the thousand or two young women who do not know how to boil +potatoes, but are pursuing the higher life of art. I did not tell you +this because I knew you would say that I am just as inconsistent as you +are. But I am not. I have demonstrated the fact that neither I nor one +in a hundred of those charming devotees to art could ever earn a living +by art, or do anything except to add to the mediocrity of the amazing art +product of this free country. + +"And you will ask, what now? I am going on in the same way. I am going +to be a doctor. In college I was very well up in physiology and anatomy, +and I went quite a way in biology. So you see I have a good start. I am +going to attend lectures and go into a hospital, as soon as there is an +opening, and then I mean to practice. One essential for a young doctor I +have in advance. That is patients. I can get all I want on the East +Side, and I have already studied many of them. Law and medicine are what +I call real professions." + +However Celia might undervalue the calling that Philip had now entered +on, he had about this time evidence of the growing appreciation of +literature by practical business men. He was surprised one day by a +brief note from Murad Ault, asking him to call at his office as soon as +convenient. + +Mr. Ault received him in his private office at exactly the hour named. +Evidently Mr. Ault's affairs were prospering. His establishment +presented every appearance of a high-pressure business perfectly +organized. The outer rooms were full of industrious clerks, messengers +were constantly entering and departing in a feverish rapidity, servants +moved silently about, conducting visitors to this or that waiting-room +and answering questions, excited speculators in groups were gesticulating +and vociferating, and in the anteroom were impatient clients awaiting +their turn. In the inner chamber, however, was perfect calm. There at +his table sat the dark, impenetrable operator, whose time was exactly +apportioned, serene, saturnine, or genial, as the case might be, +listening attentively, speaking deliberately, despatching the affair in +hand without haste or the waste of a moment. + +Mr. Ault arose and shook hands cordially, and then went on, without delay +for any conventional talk. + +"I sent for you, Mr. Burnett, because I wanted your help, and because I +thought I might do you a good turn. You see" (with a grim smile) +"I have not forgotten Rivervale days. My wife has been reading your +story. I don't have much time for such things myself, but her constant +talk about it has given me an idea. I want to suggest to you the scene +of a novel, one that would be bound to be a good seller. + +"I could guarantee a big circulation. I have just become interested in +one of the great transcontinental lines." He named the most picturesque +of them--one that he, in fact, absolutely controlled. "Well, I want a +story, yes, I guess a good love-story--a romance of reality you might +call it--strung on that line. You take the idea?" + +"Why," said Philip, half amused at the conceit and yet complimented by +the recognition of his talent, "I don't know anything about railroads +--how they are run, cost of building, prospect of traffic, engineering +difficulties, all that--nothing whatever." + +"So much the better. It is a literary work I want, not a brag about the +road or a description of its enterprise. You just take the line as your +scene. Let the story run on that. The company, don't you see, must not +in any way be suspected with having anything to do with it, no mention of +its name as a company, no advertisement of the road on a fly-leaf or +cover. Just your own story, pure and simple." + +"But," said Philip, more and more astonished at this unlooked-for +expansion of the literary field, "I could not embark on an enterprise of +such magnitude." + +"Oh," said Mr. Ault, complacently, "that will be all arranged. Just a +pleasure trip, as far as that goes. You will have a private car, well +stocked, a photographer will go along, and I think--don't you? a water- +color artist. You can take your own time, stop when and where you +choose--at the more stations the better. It ought to be profusely +illustrated with scenes on the line--yes, have colored plates, all that +would give life and character to your story. Love on a Special, some +such title as that. It would run like oil. I will arrange to have it as +a serial in one of the big magazines, and then the book would be bound to +go. The company, of course, can have nothing to do with it, but I can +tell you privately that it would rather distribute a hundred thousand +copies of a book of good literature through the country than to encourage +the railway truck that is going now. + +"I shouldn't wonder, Mr. Burnett, if the public would be interested in +having the Puritan Nun take that kind of a trip." And Mr. Ault ended his +explanation with an interrogatory smile. + +Philip hesitated a moment, trying to grasp the conception of this +business use of literature. Mr. Ault resumed: + +"It isn't anything in the nature of an advertisement. Literature is a +power. Why, do you know--of course you did not intend it--your story has +encouraged the Peacock Inn to double its accommodations, and half the +farmhouses in Rivervale are expecting summer boarders. The landlord of +the Peacock came to see me the other day, and he says everything is +stirred up there, and he has already to enlarge or refuse application." + +"It is very kind in you, Mr. Ault, to think of me in that connection, but +I fear you have over-estimated my capacity. I could name half a dozen +men who could do it much better than I could. They know how to do it, +they have that kind of touch. I have been surprised at the literary +ability engaged by the great corporations." + +Mr. Ault made a gesture of impatience. "I wouldn't give a damn for that +sort of thing. It is money thrown away. If I should get one of the +popular writers you refer to, the public would know he was hired. If you +lay your story out there, nobody will suspect anything of the sort. It +will be a clean literary novel. Not travel, you understand, but a story, +and the more love in it the better. It will be a novelty. You can run +your car sixty miles an hour in exciting passages, everything will work +into it. When people travel on the road the pictures will show them the +scenes of the story. It is a big thing," said Mr. Ault in conclusion. + +"I see it is," said Philip, rising at the hint that his time had expired. +"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Ault, for your confidence in me. But +it is a new idea. I will have to think it over." + +"Well, think it over. There is money in it. You would not start till +about midsummer. Good-day." + +A private car! Travel like a prince! Certainly literature was looking +up in the commercial world. Philip walked back to his publishers with a +certain elasticity of step, a new sense of power. Yes, the power of the +pen. And why not? No doubt it would bring him money and spread his name +very widely. There was nothing that a friendly corporation could not do +for a favorite. He would then really be a part of the great, active, +enterprising world. Was there anything illegitimate in taking advantage +of such an opportunity? Surely, he should remain his own master, and +write nothing except what his own conscience approved. But would he not +feel, even if no one else knew it, that he was the poet-laureate of a +corporation? + +And suddenly, as he thought how the clear vision of Evelyn would plunge +to the bottom of such a temptation, he felt humiliated that such a +proposition should have been made to him. Was there nothing, nobody, +that commercialism did not think for sale and to be trafficked in? + +Nevertheless, he wrote to Alice about it, describing the proposal as it +was made to him, without making any comment on it. + +Alice replied speedily. "Isn't it funny," she wrote, "and isn't it +preposterous? I wonder what such people think? And that horrid young +pirate, Ault, a patron of literature! My dear, I cannot conceive of you +as the Pirate's Own. Dear Phil, I want you to succeed. I do want you to +make money, a lot of it. I like to think you are wanted and appreciated, +and that you can get paid better and better for what you do. Sell your +manuscripts for as good a price as you can get. Yes, dear, sell your +manuscripts, but don't sell your soul." + + + + +XX + +Did Miss McDonald tell Evelyn of her meeting with Philip in Central Park? +The Scotch loyalty to her service would throw a doubt upon this. At the +same time, the Scotch affection, the Scotch sympathy with a true and +romantic passion, and, above all, the Scotch shrewdness, could be trusted +to do what was best under the circumstances. That she gave the least +hint of what she said to Mr. Burnett concerning Evelyn is not to be +supposed for a moment. Certainly she did not tell Mrs. Mavick. Was she +a person to run about with idle gossip? But it is certain that Evelyn +knew that Philip had given up his situation in the office, that he had +become a reader for a publishing house, that he had definitely decided to +take up a literary career. And somehow it came into her mind that Philip +knew that this decision would be pleasing to her. + +According to the analogy of other things in nature, it would seem that +love must have something to feed on to sustain it. But it is remarkable +upon how little it can exist, can even thrive and become strong, and +develop a power of resistance to hostile influences. Once it gets a +lodgment in a woman's heart, it is an exclusive force that transforms her +into a heroine of courage and endurance. No arguments, no reason, no +considerations of family, of position, of worldly fortune, no prospect of +immortal life, nothing but doubt of faith in the object can dislodge it. +The woman may yield to overwhelming circumstances, she may even by her +own consent be false to herself, but the love lives, however hidden and +smothered, so long as the vital force is capable of responding to a true +emotion. Perhaps nothing in human life is so pathetic as this survival +in old age of a youthful, unsatisfied love. It may cease to be a +passion, it may cease to be a misery, it may have become only a placid +sentiment, yet the heart must be quite cold before this sentiment can +cease to stir it on occasion--for the faded flower is still in the memory +the bloom of young love. + +They say that in the New Education for women love is not taken into +account in the regular course; it is an elective study. But the immortal +principle of life does not care much for organization, and says, as of +old, they reckon ill who leave me out. + +In the early season at Newport there was little to distract the attention +and much to calm the spirit. Mrs. Mavick was busy in her preparation for +the coming campaign, and Evelyn and her governess were left much alone, +to drive along the softly lapping sea, to search among the dells of the +rocky promontory for wild flowers, or to sit on the cliffs in front of +the gardens of bloom and watch the idle play of the waves, that chased +each other to the foaming beach and in good-nature tossed about the cat- +boats and schooners and set the white sails shimmering and dipping in the +changing lights. And Evelyn, drinking in the beauty and the peace of it, +no doubt, was more pensive than joyous. Within the last few months life +had opened to her with a suddenness that half frightened her. + +It was a woman who sat on the cliffs now, watching the ocean of life, no +longer a girl into whose fresh soul the sea and the waves and the air, +and the whole beauty of the world, were simply responsive to her own +gayety and enjoyment of living. It was not the charming scene that held +her thought, but the city with its human struggle, and in that struggle +one figure was conspicuous. In such moments this one figure of youth +outweighed for her all that the world held besides. It was strange. +Would she have admitted this? Not in the least, not even to herself, in +her virgin musings; nevertheless, the world was changed for her, it was +more serious, more doubtful, richer, and more to be feared. + +It was not too much to say that one season had much transformed her. She +had been so ignorant of the world a year ago. She had taken for granted +all that was abstractly right. Now she saw that the conventions of life +were like sand-dunes and barriers in the path she was expected to walk. +She had learned for one thing what money was. Wealth had been such an +accepted part of her life, since she could remember, that she had +attached no importance to it, and had only just come to see what +distinctions it made, and how it built a barrier round about her. She +had come to know what it was that gave her father position and +distinction; and the knowledge had been forced upon her by all the +obsequious flattery of society that she was, as a great heiress, +something apart from others. This position, so much envied, may be to a +sensitive soul an awful isolation. + +It was only recently that Evelyn had begun to be keenly aware of the +circumstances that hedged her in. They were speaking one day as they sat +upon the cliffs of the season about to begin. In it Evelyn had always +had unalloyed, childish delight. Now it seemed to her something to be +borne. + +"McDonald," the girl said, abruptly, but evidently continuing her line of +thought, "mamma says that Lord Montague is coming next week." + +"To be with us?" + +"Oh, no. He is to stay with the Danforth-Sibbs. Mamma says that as he +is a stranger here we must be very polite to him, and that his being here +will give distinction to the season. Do you like him?" There was in +Evelyn still, with the penetration of the woman, the naivete of the +child. + +"I cannot say that he is personally very fascinating, but then I have +never talked with him." + +"Mamma says he is very interesting about his family, and their place in +England, and about his travels. He has been in the South Sea Islands. I +asked him about them. He said that the natives were awfully jolly, and +that the climate was jolly hot. Do you know, McDonald, that you can't +get anything out of him but exclamations and slang. I suppose he talks +to other people differently. I tried him. At the reception I asked him +who was going to take Tennyson's place. He looked blank, and then said, +'Er--I must have missed that. What place? Is he out?'" + +Miss McDonald laughed, and then said, "You don't understand the classes +in English life. Poetry is not in his line. You see, dear, you couldn't +talk to him about politics. He is a born legislator, and when he is in +the House of Lords he will know right well who is in and who is out. You +mustn't be unjust because he seems odd to you and of limited +intelligence. Just that sort of youth is liable to turn up some day in +India or somewhere and do a mighty plucky thing, and become a hero. I +dare say he is a great sportsman." + +"Yes, he quite warmed up about shooting. He told me about going for yak +in the snow mountains south of Thibet. Bloody cold it was. Nasty beast, +if you didn't bring him down first shot. No, I don't doubt his courage +nor his impudence. He looks at me so, that I can't help blushing. I +wish mamma wouldn't ask him." + +"But, my dear, we must live in the world as it is. You are not +responsible for Lord Montague." + +"And I know he will come," the girl persisted in her line of thought. + +"When he called the day before we came away, he asked a lot of questions +about Newport, about horses and polo and golf, and all that, and were the +roads good. And then, 'Do you bike, Miss Mavick?' + +"I pretended not to understand, and said I was still studying with my +governess and I hadn't got all the irregular verbs yet. For once, he +looked quite blank, and after a minute he said, 'That's very good, you +know!' McDonald, I just hate him. He makes me so uneasy." + +"But don't you know, child," said Miss McDonald, laughing, "that we are +required to love our enemies?" + +"So I would," replied the girl, quickly, "if he were an enemy and would +keep away. Ah, me! McDonald, I want to ask you something. Do you +suppose he would hang around a girl who was poor, such a sweet, pretty, +dear creature as Alice Maitland, who is a hundred times nicer than I am?" + +"He might," said Miss McDonald, still quizzically. "They say that like +goes to like, and it is reported that the Duke of Tewkesbury is as good +as ruined." + +"Do be serious, McDonald." The girl nestled up closer to her and took +her hand. "I want to ask you one question more. Do you think--no, don't +look at me, look away off at that sail do you-think that, if I had been +poor, Mr. Burnett would have seen me only twice, just twice, all last +season?" + +Miss McDonald put her arm around Evelyn and clasped the little figure +tight. "You must not give way to fancies. We cannot, as life is +arranged, be perfectly happy, but we can be true to ourselves, and there +is scarcely anything that resolution and patience cannot overcome. I +ought not to talk to you about this, Evelyn. But I must say one thing: I +think I can read Philip Burnett. Oh, he has plenty of self-esteem, but, +unless I mistake him, nothing could so mortify him as to have it said +that he was pursuing a girl for the sake of her fortune." + +"And he wouldn't!" cried the girl, looking up and speaking in an unsteady +voice. + +"Let me finish. He is, so I think, the sort of man that would not let +any fortune, or anything else, stand in the way when his heart was +concerned. I somehow feel that he could not change--faithfulness, that +is his notion. If he only knew--" + +"He never shall! he never shall!" cried the girl in alarm--"never!" + +"And you think, child, that he doesn't know? Come! That sail has been +coming straight towards us ever since we sat here, never tacked once. +That is omen enough for one day. See how the light strikes it. Come!" + +The Newport season was not, after all, very gay. Society has become so +complex that it takes more than one Englishman to make a season. Were it +the business of the chronicler to study the evolution of this lovely +watering-place from its simple, unconventional, animated days of natural +hospitality and enjoyment, to its present splendid and palatial isolation +of a society--during the season--which finds its chief satisfaction in +the rivalry of costly luxury and in an atmosphere of what is deemed +aristocratic exclusiveness, he would have a theme attractive to the +sociologist. But such a noble study is not for him. His is the humble +task of following the fortunes of certain individuals, more or less +conspicuous in this astonishing flowering of a democratic society, who +have become dear to him by long acquaintance. + +It was not the fault of Mrs. Mavick that the season was so frigid, its +glacial stateliness only now and then breaking out in an illuminating +burst of festivity, like the lighting-up of a Montreal ice-palace. Her +spacious house was always open, and her efforts, in charity enterprises +and novel entertainments, were untiring to stimulate a circulation in the +languid body of society. + +This clever woman never showed more courage or more tact than in this +campaign, and was never more agreeable and fascinating. She was even +popular. If she was not accepted as a leader, she had a certain standing +with the leaders, as a person of vivacity and social influence. Any +company was eager for her presence. Her activity, spirit, and affability +quite won the regard of the society reporters, and those who know Newport +only through the newspapers would have concluded that the Mavicks were on +the top of the wave. She, however, perfectly understood her position, +and knew that the sweet friends, who exchanged with her, whenever they +met, the conventional phrases of affection commented sarcastically upon +her ambitions for her daughter. It was, at the same time, an ambition +that they perfectly understood, and did not condemn on any ethical +grounds. Evelyn was certainly a sweet girl, rather queerly educated, and +never likely to make much of a dash, but she was an heiress, and why +should not her money be put to the patriotic use of increasing the +growing Anglo-American cordiality? + +Lord Montague was, of course, a favorite, in demand for all functions, +and in request for the private and intimate entertainments. He was an +authority in the stables and the kennels, and an eager comrade in all the +sports of the island. His easy manner, his self-possession everywhere, +even his slangy talk, were accepted as evidence that he was above +conventionalities. "The little man isn't a beauty," said Sally McTabb, +"but he shows 'race.'" He might be eccentric, but when you came to know +him you couldn't help liking the embryo duke in him. + +In fact, things were going very well with Mrs. Mavick, except in her own +household. There was something there that did not yield, that did not +flow with her plans. With Lord Montague she was on the most intimate and +confidential relations. He was almost daily at the house. Often she +drove with him; frequently Evelyn was with them. Indeed, the three came +to be associated in the public mind. There could be no doubt of the +intentions of the young nobleman. That he could meet any opposition was +not conceived. + +The noble lord, since they had been in Newport, had freely opened his +mind to Mrs. Mavick, and on a fit occasion had formally requested her +daughter's hand. Needless to say that he was accepted. Nay, more, +he felt that he was trusted like a son. He was given every opportunity +to press his suit. Somewhat to his surprise, he did not appear to make +much headway. He was rarely able to see her alone, even for a moment. +Such evasiveness in a young girl to a man of his rank astonished him. +There could be no reason for it in himself; there must be some influence +at work unknown to his social experience. + +He did not reproach Mrs. Mavick with this, but he let her see that he was +very much annoyed. + +"If I had not your assurance to the contrary, Mrs. Mavick," he said one +day in a pet, "I should think she shunned me." + +"Oh, no, Lord Montague, that could not be. I told you that she had had a +peculiar education; she is perfectly ignorant of the world, she is shy, +and--well, for a girl in her position, she is unconventional. She is so +young that she does not yet understand what life is." + +"You mean she does not know what I offer her?" + +"Why, my dear Lord Montague, did you ever offer her anything?" + +"Not flat, no," said my lord, hesitating. "Every time I approach her she +shies off like a young filly. There is something I don't understand." + +"Evelyn," and Mrs. Mavick spoke with feeling, "is an affectionate and +dutiful child. She has never thought of marriage. The prospect is all +new to her. But I am sure she would learn to love you if she knew you +and her mind were once turned upon such a union. My lord, why not say to +her what you feel, and make the offer you intend? You cannot expect a +young girl to show her inclination before she is asked." And Mrs. Mavick +laughed a little to dispel the seriousness. + +"By Jove! that's so, good enough. I'll do it straight out. I'll tell +her to take it or leave it. No, I don't mean that, of course. I'll tell +her that I can't live without her--that sort of thing, you know. And I +can't, that's just the fact." + +"You can leave it confidently to her good judgment and to the friendship +of the family for you." + +Lord Montague was silent for a moment, and seemed to be looking at a +problem in his shrewd mind. For he had a shrewd mind, which took in the +whole situation, Mrs. Mavick and all, with a perspicacity that would have +astonished that woman of the world. + +"There is one thing, perhaps I ought not to say it, but I have seen it, +and it is in my head that it is that--I beg your pardon, madam--that +damned governess." + +The shot went home. The suggestion, put into language that could be more +easily comprehended than defended, illuminated Mrs. Mavick's mind in a +flash, seeming to disclose the source of an opposition to her purposes +which secretly irritated her. Doubtless it was the governess. It was +her influence that made Evelyn less pliable and amenable to reason than a +young girl with such social prospects as she had would naturally be. +Besides, how absurd it was that a young lady in society should still have +a governess. A companion? The proper companion for a girl on the edge +of matrimony was her mother! + + + + +XXI + +This idea, once implanted in Mrs. Mavick's mind, bore speedy fruit. No +one would have accused her of being one of those uncomfortable persons +who are always guided by an inflexible sense of justice, nor could it be +said that she was unintelligently unjust. Facile as she was, in all her +successful life she had never acted upon impulse, but from a conscience +keenly alive to what was just to herself. Miss McDonald was in the way. +And Mrs. Mavick had one quality of good generalship--she acted promptly +on her convictions. + +When Mr. Mavick came over next day to spend Sunday in what was called in +print the bosom of his family, he looked very much worn and haggard and +was in an irritated mood. He had been very little in Newport that +summer, the disturbed state of business confining him to the city. And +to a man of his age, New York in midsummer in a panicky season is not a +recreation. + +The moment Mrs. Mavick got her husband alone she showed a lively +solicitude about his health. + +"I suppose it has been dreadfully hot in the city?" + +"Hot enough. Everything makes it hot." + +"Has anything gone wrong? Has that odious Ault turned up again?" + +"Turned up is the word. Half the time that man is a mole, half the time +a bull in a china-shop. He sails up to you bearing your own flag, and +when he gets aboard he shows the skull and cross-bones." + +"Is it so bad as that?" + +"As bad as what? He is a bad lot, but he is just an adventurer--a +Napoleon who will get his Waterloo before fall. Don't bother about +things you don't understand. How are things down here?" + +"Going swimmingly." "So I judged by the bills. How is the lord?" + +"Now don't be vulgar, Tom. You must keep up your end. Lord Montague is +very nice; he is a great favorite here." + +"Does Evelyn like him?" + +"Yes, she likes him; she likes him very much." + +"She didn't show it to me." + +"No, she is awfully shy. And she is rather afraid of him, the big title +and all that. And then she has never been accustomed to act for herself. +She is old enough to be independent and to take her place in the world. +At her age I was not in leading-strings." + +"I should say not," said Mavick. + +"Except in obedience to my mother," continued Carmen, not deigning to +notice the sarcasm. "And I've been thinking that McDonald--" + +"So you want to get rid of her?" + +"What a brutal way of putting it! No. But if Evelyn is ever to be self- +reliant it is time she should depend more on herself. You know I am +devoted to McDonald. And, what is more, I am used to her. +I wasn't thinking of her. You don't realize that Evelyn is a young lady +in society, and it has become ridiculous for her to still have a +governess. Everybody would say so." + +"Well, call her a companion." + +"Ah, don't you see it would be the same? She would still be under her +influence and not able to act for herself." + +"What are you going to do? Turn her adrift after eighteen--what is it, +seventeen?--years of faithful service?" + +"How brutally you put it. I'm going to tell McDonald just how it is. +She is a sensible woman, and she will see that it is for Evelyn's good. +And then it happens very luckily. Mrs. Van Cortlandt asked me last +winter if I wouldn't let her have McDonald for her little girl when we +were through with her. She knew, of course, that we couldn't keep a +governess much longer for Evelyn. I am going to write to her. She will +jump at the chance." + +"And McDonald?" + +"Oh, she likes Mrs. Van Cortlandt. It will just suit her." + +"And Evelyn? That will be another wrench." Men are so foolishly tender- +hearted about women. + +"Of course, I know it seems hard, and will be for a little. But it is +for Evelyn's good, I am perfectly sure." + +Mr. Mavick was meditating. It was a mighty unpleasant business. But he +was getting tired of conflict. There was an undercurrent in the lives of +both that made him shrink from going deep into any domestic difference. +It was best to yield. + +"Well, Carmen, I couldn't have the heart to do it. She has been Evelyn's +constant companion all the child's life. Ah, well, it's your own affair. +Only don't stir it up till after I am gone. I must go to the city early +Monday morning." + +Because Mavick, amid all the demands of business and society, and his +ambitions for power in the world of finance and politics, had not had +much time to devote to his daughter, it must not be supposed that he did +not love her. In the odd moments at her service she had always been a +delight to him; and, in truth, many of his ambitions had centred in the +intelligent, affectionate, responsive child. But there had been no time +for much real comradeship. + +This Sunday, however, and it was partly because of pity for the shock he +felt was in store for her, he devoted himself to her. They had a long +walk on the cliff, and he talked to her of his life, of his travels, and +his political experience. She was a most appreciative listener, and in +the warmth of his confidence she opened her mind to him, and rather +surprised him by her range of intelligence and the singular uprightness +of her opinions, and more still by her ready wit and playfulness. It was +the first time she had felt really free with her father, and he for the +first time seemed to know her as she was in her inner life. When they +returned to the house, and she was thanking him with a glow of enthusiasm +for such a lovely day, he lifted her up and kissed her, with an emotion +of affection that brought tears to her eyes. + +A couple of days elapsed before Mrs. Mavick was ready for action. During +this time she had satisfied herself, by apparently casual conversation +with her daughter and Miss McDonald, that the latter would be wholly out +of sympathy with her intentions in regard to Evelyn. Left to herself she +judged that her daughter would look with more favor upon the brilliant +career offered to her by Lord Montague. When, therefore, one morning the +governess was summoned to her room, her course was decided on. She +received Miss McDonald with more than usual cordiality. She had in her +hand a telegram, and beamed upon her as the bearer of good news. + +"I have an excellent offer for you, Miss McDonald." + +"An offer for me?" + +"Yes, from Mrs. Van Cortlandt, to be the governess of her daughter, a +sweet little girl of six. She has often spoken about it, and now I have +an urgent despatch from her. She is in need of some one at once, and she +greatly prefers you." + +"Do you mean, Mrs. Mavick, that--you--want--that I am to leave Evelyn, +and you?" The room seemed to whirl around her. + +"It is not what we want, McDonald," said Mrs. Mavick calmly and still +beaming, "but what is best. Your service as governess has continued much +longer than could have been anticipated, and of course it must come to an +end some time. You understand how hard this separation is for all of us. +Mr. Mavick wanted me to express to you his infinite obligation, and I am +sure he will take a substantial way of showing it. Evelyn is now a young +lady in society, and of course it is absurd for her to continue under +pupilage. It will be best for her, for her character, to be independent +and learn to act for herself in the world." + +"Did she--has Evelyn--" + +"No, I have said nothing to her of this offer, which is a most +advantageous one. Of course she will feel as we do, at first." + +"Why, all these years, all her life, since she was a baby, not a day, not +a night, Evelyn, and now--so sweet, so dear--why Mrs. Mavick!" +And the Scotch woman, dazed, with a piteous appeal in her eyes, trying in +vain to control her face, looked at her mistress. + +"My dear McDonald, you must not take it that way. It is only a change. +You are not going away really, we shall all be in the same city. I am +sure you will--like your new home. Shall I tell Mrs. Van Cortlandt?" + +"Tell Mrs. Van Cortlandt? Yes, tell her, thanks. I will go--soon--at +once. In a little time, to get-ready. Thanks." The governess rose and +stood a moment to steady herself. All her life was in ruins. The blow +crushed her. And she had been so happy. In such great peace. It seemed +impossible. To leave Evelyn! She put out her hand as if to speak. Did +Mrs. Mavick understand what she was doing? That it was the same as +dragging a mother away from her child? But she said nothing. Words +would not come. Everything seemed confused and blank. She sank into her +chair. + +"Excuse me, Mrs. Mavick, I think I am not very strong this morning." And +presently she stood on her feet again and steadied herself. "You will +please tell Evelyn before--before I see her." And she walked out of the +room as one in a trance. + +The news was communicated to Evelyn, quite incidentally, in the manner +that all who knew Mrs. Mavick admired in her. Evelyn had just been in +and out of her mother's room, on one errand and another, and was going +out again, when her mother said: + +"Oh, by-the-way, Evelyn, at last we have got a splendid place for +McDonald." + +Evelyn turned, not exactly comprehending. "A place for McDonald? For +what?" + +"As governess, of course. With Mrs. Van Cortlandt." + +"What! to leave us? "The girl walked back to her mother's chair and +stood before her in an attitude of wonder and doubt. "You don't mean, +mamma, that she is going away for good?" + +"It is a great chance for her. I have been anxious for some time about +employment for her, now that you do not need a governess--haven't really +for a year or two." + +"But, mamma, it can't be. She is part of us. She belongs to the family; +she has been in it almost as long as I have. Why, I have been with her +every day of my life. To go away? To give her up? Does she know?" + +"Does she know? What a child! She has accepted Mrs. Van Cortlandt's +offer. I telegraphed for her this morning. Tomorrow she goes to town to +get her belongings together. Mrs. Van Cortlandt needs her at once. I am +sorry to see, my dear, that you are thinking only of yourself." + +"Of myself?" The girl had been at first confused, and, as the idea forced +itself upon her mind, she felt weak, and trembled, and was deadly pale. +But when the certainty came, the enormity and cruelty of the dismissal +aroused her indignation. "Myself!" she exclaimed again. Her eyes blazed +with a wrath new to their tenderness, and, stepping back and stamping her +foot; she cried out: "She shall not go! It is unjust! It is cruel!" + +Her mother had never seen her child like that. She was revealing a +spirit of resistance, a temper, an independence quite unexpected. +And yet it was not altogether displeasing. Mrs. Mavick's respect for her +involuntarily rose. And after an instant, instead of responding with +severity, as was her first impulse, she said, very calmly: + +"Naturally, Evelyn, you do not like to part with her. None of us do. +But go to your room and think it over reasonably. The relations of +childhood cannot last forever." + +Evelyn stood for a moment undecided. Her mother's calm self-control had +not deceived her. She was no longer a child. It was a woman reading a +woman. All her lifetime came back to her to interpret this moment. In +the reaction of the second, the deepest pain was no longer for herself, +nor even for Miss McDonald, but for a woman who showed herself so +insensible to noble feeling. Protest was useless. But why was the +separation desired? She did not fully see, but her instinct told her +that it had a relation to her mother's plans for her; and as life rose +before her in the society, in the world, into which she was newly +launched, she felt that she was alone, absolutely alone. She tried to +speak, but before she could collect her thoughts her mother said: + +"There, go now. It is useless to discuss the matter. We all have to +learn to bear things." + +Evelyn went away, in a tumult of passion and of shame, and obeyed her +impulse to go where she had always found comfort. + +Miss McDonald was in her own room. Her trunk was opened. She had taken +her clothes from the closet. She was opening the drawers and laying one +article here and another there. She was going from closet to bureau, +opening this door and shutting that in her sitting-room and bedroom, in +an aimless, distracted way. Out of her efforts nothing had so far come +but confusion. It seemed an impossible dream that she was actually +packing up to go away forever. + +Evelyn entered in a haste that could not wait for permission. + +"Is it true?" she cried. + +McDonald turned. She could not speak. Her faithful face was gray with +suffering. Her eyes were swollen with weeping. For an instant she +seemed not to comprehend, and then a flood of motherly feeling overcame +her. She stretched out her arms and caught the girl to her breast in a +passionate embrace, burying her face in her neck in a vain effort to +subdue her sobbing. + +What was there to say? Evelyn had come to her refuge for comfort, and to +Evelyn the comforter it was she herself who must be the comforter. +Presently she disengaged herself and forced the governess into an easy +chair. She sat down on the arm of the chair and smoothed her hair and +kissed her again and again. + +"There. I'm going to help you. You'll see you have not taught me for +nothing." She jumped up and began to bustle about. "You don't know what +a packer I am." + +"I knew it must come some time," she was saying, with a weary air, as she +followed with her eyes the light step of the graceful girl, who was +beginning to sort things and to bring order out of the confusion, holding +up one article after another and asking questions with an enforced +cheerfulness that was more pathetic than any burst of grief. + +"Yes, I know. There, that is laid in smooth." She pretended to be +thinking what to put in next, and suddenly she threw herself into +McDonald's lap and began to talk gayly. "It is all my fault, dear; I +should have stayed little. And it doesn't make any difference. +I know you love me, and oh, McDonald, I love you more, a hundred times +more, than ever. If you did not love me! Think how dreadful that would +be. And we shall not be separated-only by streets, don't you know. They +can't separate us. I know you want me to be brave. And some day, +perhaps" (and she whispered in her ear--how many hundred times had she +told her girl secrets in that way!), "if I do have a home of my own, +then--" + +It was not very cheerful talk, however it seemed to be, but it was better +than silence, and in the midst of it, with many interruptions, the +packing was over, and some sort of serenity was attained even by Miss +McDonald. "Yes, dear heart, we have love and trust and hope." +But when the preparations were all made, and Evelyn went to her own room, +there did not seem to be so much hope, nor any brightness in the midst of +this first great catastrophe of her life. + + + + +XXII + +The great Mavick ball at Newport, in the summer long remembered for its +financial disasters, was very much talked about at the time. Long after, +in any city club, a man was sure to have attentive listeners if he, began +his story or his gossip with the remark that he was at the Mavick ball. + +It attracted great attention, both on account of the circumstances that +preceded it and the events which speedily followed, and threw a light +upon it that gave it a spectacular importance. The city journals made a +feature of it. They summoned their best artists to illustrate it, and +illuminate it in pen-and-ink, half-tones, startling colors, and +photographic reproductions, sketches theatrical, humorous, and poetic, +caricatures, pictures of tropical luxury and aristocratic pretension; in +short, all the bewildering affluence of modern art which is brought to +bear upon the aesthetic cultivation of the lowest popular taste. They +summoned their best novelists to throw themselves recklessly upon the +English language, and extort from it its highest expression in color and +lyrical beauty, the novelists whose mission it is, in the newspaper +campaign against realism, to adorn and dramatize the commonest events of +life, creating in place of the old-fashioned "news" the highly spiced +"story," which is the ideal aspiration of the reporter. + +Whatever may be said about the power of the press, it is undeniable +that it can set the entire public thinking and talking about any topic, +however insignificant in itself, that it may elect to make the +sensation of the day--a wedding, a murder, a political scandal, a +divorce, a social event, a defalcation, a lost child, an unidentified +victim of accident or crime, an election, or--that undefined quickener of +patriotism called a casus belli. It can impose any topic it pleases upon +the public mind. In case there is no topic, it is necessary to make one, +for it is an indefeasible right of the public to have news. + +These reports of the Mavick ball had a peculiar interest for at least two +people in New York. Murad Ault read them with a sardonic smile and an +enjoyment that would not have been called altruistic. Philip +searched them with the feverish eagerness of a maiden who scans the +report of a battle in which her lover has been engaged. + +All summer long he had lived upon stray bits of news in the society +columns of the newspapers. To see Evelyn's name mentioned, and only +rarely, as a guest at some entertainment, and often in connection with +that of Lord Montague, did not convey much information, nor was that +little encouraging. Was she well? Was she absorbed in the life of the +season? Did she think of him in surroundings so brilliant? Was she, +perhaps, unhappy and persecuted? No tidings came that could tell him the +things that he ached to know. + +Only recently intelligence had come to him that at the same time wrung +his heart with pity and buoyed him up with hope. He had not seen Miss +McDonald since her dismissal, for she had been only one night in the +city, but she had written to him. Relieved by her discharge of all +obligations of silence, she had written him frankly about the whole +affair, and, indeed, put him in possession of unrecorded details and +indications that filled him with anxiety, to be sure, but raised his +courage and strengthened his determination. If Evelyn loved him, he had +faith that no manoeuvres or compulsion could shake her loyalty. And yet +she was but a girl; she was now practically alone, and could she resist +the family and the social pressure? Few women could, few women do, +effectively resist under such circumstances. With one of a tender heart, +duty often takes the most specious and deceiving forms. In yielding to +the impulses of her heart, which in her inexperience may be mistaken, has +a girl the right--from a purely rational point of view--to set herself +against, nay, to destroy, the long-cherished ambitions of her parents for +a brilliant social career for her, founded upon social traditions of +success? For what had Mr. Mavick toiled? For what had Mrs. Mavick +schemed all these years? Could the girl throw herself away? Such +disobedience, such disregard for social law, would seem impossible to her +mother. + +Some of the events that preceded the Mavick ball throw light upon that +interesting function. After the departure of Miss McDonald, Mrs. Mavick, +in one of her confidential talks with her proposed son-in-law, confessed +that she experienced much relief. An obstacle seemed to be removed. + +In fact, Evelyn rather surprised her mother by what seemed a calm +acceptance of the situation. There was no further outburst. If the girl +was often preoccupied and seemed listless, that was to be expected, on +the sudden removal of the companion of her lifetime. + +But she did not complain. She ceased after a while to speak of McDonald. +If she showed little enthusiasm in what was going on around her, she was +compliant, she fell in at once with her mother's suggestions, and went +and came in an attitude of entire obedience. + +"It isn't best for you to keep up a correspondence, my dear, now that you +know that McDonald is nicely settled--all reminiscent correspondence is +very wearing--and, really, I am more than delighted to see that you are +quite capable of walking alone. Do you know, Evelyn, that I am more and +more proud of you every day, as my daughter. I don't dare to tell you +half the nice things that are said of you. It would make you vain." And +the proud mother kissed her affectionately. The letters ceased. If the +governess wrote, Evelyn did not see the letters. + +As the days went by, Lord Montague, in high and confident spirits, became +more and more a familiar inmate of the house. Daily he sent flowers to +Evelyn; he contrived little excursions and suppers; he was marked in his +attentions wherever they went. "He is such a dear fellow," said Mrs. +Mavick to one of her friends; "I don't know how we should get on without +him." + +Only, in the house, owing to some unnatural perversity of circumstances, +he did not see much of Evelyn, never alone for more than a moment. It is +wonderful what efficient, though invisible, defenses most women, when +they will, can throw about themselves. + +That the affair was "arranged" Lord Montague had no doubt. It was not +conceivable that the daughter of an American stock-broker would refuse +the offer of a position so transcendent and so evidently coveted in a +democratic society. Not that the single-minded young man reasoned about +it this way. He was born with a most comfortable belief in himself and +the knowledge that when he decided to become a domestic man he had +simply, as the phrase is, to throw his handkerchief. + +At home, where such qualities as distinguished him from the common were +appreciated without the need of personal exertion, this might be true; +but in America it did seem to be somehow different. American women, at +least some of them, did need to be personally wooed; and many of them had +a sort of independence in the bestowal of their affections or, what they +understood to be the same thing, themselves that must be taken into +account. And it gradually dawned upon the mind of this inheritor of +privilege that in this case the approval of the family, even the pressure +of the mother, was not sufficient; he must have also Evelyn's consent. +If she were a mature woman who knew and appreciated the world, she would +perceive the advantages offered to her without argument. But a girl, +just released from the care of her governess, unaccustomed to society, +might have notions, or, in the vernacular of the scion, might be +skittish. + +And then, again, to do the wooer entire justice, the dark little girl, so +much mistress of herself, so evidently spirited, with such an air of +distinction, began to separate herself in his mind as a good goer against +the field, and he had a real desire to win her affection. The more +indifferent she was to him, the keener was his desire to possess her. +His unsuccessful wooing had passed through several stages, first +astonishment, then pique, and finally something very like passion, or a +fair semblance of devotion, backed, of course, since all natures are more +or less mixed, by the fact that this attractive figure of the woman was +thrown into high relief by the colossal fortune behind her. + +And Evelyn herself? Neither her mother nor her suitor appreciated the +uncommon circumstances that her education, her whole training in +familiarity with pure and lofty ideals, had rendered her measurably +insensible to the social considerations that seemed paramount to them, or +that there could be any real obstacle to the bestowal of her person. +where her heart was not engaged. Yet she perfectly understood her +situation, and, at times, deprived of her lifelong support, she felt +powerless in it, and she suffered as only the pure and the noble can +suffer. Day after day she fought her battle alone, now and then, as the +situation confronted her, assailed by a shudder of fear, as of one +awakening in the night from a dream of peril, the clutch of an assassin, +or the walking on an icy precipice. If McDonald were only with her! If +she could only hear from Philip! Perhaps he had lost hope and was +submitting to the inevitable. + +The opportunity which Lord Montague had long sought came one day +unexpectedly, or perhaps it was contrived. They were waiting in the +drawing-room for an afternoon drive. The carriage was delayed, and Mrs. +Mavick excused herself to ascertain the cause of the delay. Evelyn and +her suitor were left alone. She was standing by a window looking out, +and he was standing by the fireplace watching the swing of the figure on +the pendulum of the tall mantelpiece clock. He was the first to break +the silence. + +"Your clock, Miss Mavick, is a little fast." No reply. "Or else I am +slow." Still no reply. "They say, you know, that I am a little slow, +over here." No reply. "I am not, really, you know. I know my mind. +And there was something, Miss Mavick, something particular, that I wanted +to say to you." + +"Yes?" without turning round. "The carriage will be here in a minute." + +"Never mind that," and Lord Montague moved away from the fireplace and +approached the girl; "take care of the minutes and the hours will take +care of themselves, as the saying is." At this unexpected stroke of +brilliancy Evelyn did turn round, and stood in an expectant attitude. +The moment had evidently come, and she would not meet it like a coward. + +"We have been friends a long time; not so very long, but it seems to me +the best part of my life," he was looking down and speaking slowly, with +the modest deference of a gentleman, "and you must have seen, that is, I +wanted you to see, you know well, that is--er--what I was staying on here +for." + +"Because you like America, I suppose," said Evelyn, coolly. + +"Because I like some things in America--that is just the fact," continued +the little lord, with more confidence. "And that is why I stayed. You +see I couldn't go away and leave what was best in the world to me." + +There was an air of simplicity and sincerity about this that was +unexpected, and could not but be respected by any woman. But Evelyn +waited, still immovable. + +"It wasn't reasonable that you should like a stranger right off," he went +on, "just at first, and I waited till you got to know me better. Ways +are different here and over there, I know that, but if you came to know +me, Miss Mavick, you would see that I am not such a bad sort of a +fellow." And a deprecatory smile lighted up his face that was almost +pathetic. To Evelyn this humility seemed genuine, and perhaps it was, +for the moment. Certainly the eyes she bent on, the odd little figure +were less severe. + +"All this is painful to me, Lord Montague." + +"I'm sorry," he continued, in the same tone. "I cannot help it. +I must say it. I--you must know that I love you." And then, not heeding +the nervous start the girl gave in stepping backward, "And--and, will you +be my wife?" + +"You do me too much honor, Lord Montague," said Evelyn, summoning up all +her courage. + +"No, no, not a bit of it." + +"I am obliged to you for your good opinion, but you know I am almost a +school-girl. My governess has just left me. I have never thought of +such a thing. And, Lord Montague, I cannot return your feeling. That is +all. You must see how painful this is to me." + +"I wouldn't give you pain, Miss Mavick, not for the world. Perhaps when +you think it over it will seem different to you. I am sure it will. +Don't answer now, for good." + +"No, no, it cannot be," said Evelyn, with something of alarm in her tone, +for the full meaning of it all came over her as she thought of her +mother. + +"You are not offended?" + +"No," said Evelyn. + +"I couldn't bear to offend you. You cannot think I would. And you will +not be hard-hearted. You know me, Miss Mavick, just where I am. I'm +just as I said." + +"The carriage is coming," said Mrs. Mavick, who returned at this moment. + +The group for an instant was silent, and then Evelyn said: + +"We have waited so long; mamma, that I am a little tired, and you will +excuse me from the drive this afternoon?" + +"Certainly, my dear." + +When the two were seated in the carriage, Mrs. Mavick turned to Lord +Montague: + +"Well?" + +"No go," replied my lord, as sententiously, and in evident bad humor. + +"What? And you made a direct proposal?" + +"Showed her my whole hand. Made a square offer. Damme, I am not used to +this sort of thing." + +"You don't mean that she refused you?" + +"Don't know what you call it. Wouldn't start." + +"She couldn't have understood you. What did she say?" + +"Said it was too much honor, and that rot. By Jove, she didn't look it. +I rather liked her pluck. She didn't flinch." + +"Oh, is that all?" And Mrs. Mavick spoke as if her mind were relieved. +"What could you expect from such a sudden proposal to a young girl, +almost a child, wholly unused to the world? I should have done the same +thing at her age. It will look different to her when she reflects, and +understands what the position is that is offered her. Leave that to me." + +Lord Montague shook his head and screwed up his keen little eyes. +His mind was in full play. "I know women, Mrs. Mavick, and I tell you +there is something behind this. Somebody has been in the stable." The +noble lord usually dropped into slang when he was excited. + +"I don't understand your language," said Mrs. Mavick, straightening +herself up in her seat. + +"I beg pardon. It is just a way of speaking on the turf. When a +favorite goes lame the morning of the race, we know some one has been +tampering with him. I tell you there is some one else. She has some one +else in her mind. That's the reason of it." + +"Nonsense." cried Mrs. Mavick, with the energy of conviction. +"It's impossible. There is nobody, couldn't be anybody. She has led a +secluded life till this hour. She hasn't a fancy, I know." + +"I hope you are right," he replied, in the tone of a man wishing to take +a cheerful view. "Perhaps I don't understand American girls." + +"I think I do," she said, smiling. "They are generally amenable to +reason. Evelyn now has something definite before her. I am glad you +proposed." + +And this was the truth. Mrs. Mavick was elated. So far her scheme was +completely successful. As to Evelyn, she trusted to various influences +she could bring to bear. Ultimate disobedience of her own wishes she did +not admit as a possible thing. + +A part of her tactics was the pressure of public opinion, so far as +society represents it--that is, what society expects. And therefore it +happened in a few days that a strong suspicion got about that Lord +Montague had proposed formally to the heiress. The suspicion was +strengthened by appearances. Mrs. Mavick did not deny the rumor. That +there was an engagement was not affirmed, but that the honor had been or +would be declined was hardly supposable. + +In the painful interview between mother and daughter concerning this +proposal, Evelyn had no reason to give for her opposition, except that +she did not love him. This point Mrs. Mavick skillfully evaded and +minimized. Of course she would love him in time. The happiest marriages +were founded on social fitness and the judgment of parents, and not on +the inexperienced fancies of young girls. And in this case things had +gone too far to retreat. Lord Montague's attentions had been too open +and undisguised. He had been treated almost as a son by the house. +Society looked upon the affair as already settled. Had Evelyn reflected +on the mortification that would fall upon her mother if she persisted in +her unreasonable attitude? And Mrs. Mavick shed actual tears in thinking +upon her own humiliation. + +The ball which followed these private events was also a part of Mrs. +Mavick's superb tactics. It would be in a way a verification of the +public rumors and a definite form of pressure which public expectation +would exercise upon the lonely girl. + +The splendor of this function is still remembered. There were, however, +features in the glowing descriptions of it which need to be mentioned. +It was assumed that it was for a purpose, that it was in fact, if not a +proclamation, at least an intimation of a new and brilliant Anglo-Saxon +alliance. No one asserted that an engagement existed. But the prominent +figures in the spectacle were the English lord and the young and +beautiful American heiress. There were portraits of both in half-tone. +The full names and titles expectant of Lord Montague were given, a +history of the dukedom of Tewkesbury and its ancient glory, with the long +line of noble names allied to the young lord, who was a social star of +the first magnitude, a great traveler, a sportsman of the stalwart race +that has the world for its field. ("Poor little Monte," said the +managing editor as he passed along these embellishments with his +approval.) + +On the other hand, the proposed alliance was no fall in dignity or family +to the English house. The heiress was the direct descendant of the +Eschelles, an old French family, distinguished in camp and court in the +glorious days of the Grand Monarch. + + + + +XXIII + +Probably no man ever wrote and published a book, a magazine story, or a +bit of verse without an instant decision to repeat the experiment. The +inclination once indulged becomes insatiable. It is not altogether the +gratified vanity of seeing one's self in print, for, before printing was, +the composers and reciters of romances and songs were driven along the +same path of unrest and anxiety, when once they had the least recognition +of their individual distinction. The impulse is more subtle than the +desire for wealth or the craving for political place. In some cases it +is in simple obedience to the longing to create; in others it is a lower +ambition for notoriety, for praise. + +In any case the experiment of authorship, in however humble, a way, has +an analogy to that other tempting occupation of making "investments" in +the stock-market: the first trial is certain to lead to another. If the +author succeeds in any degree, his spirit rises to another attempt in the +hope of a wider recognition. If he fails, that is a reason why he should +convince his fellows that the failure was not inherent in himself, but in +ill-luck or a misdirection of his powers. And the experiment has another +analogy to the noble occupation of levying toll upon the change of +values--a first brilliant success is often a misfortune, inducing an +overestimate of capacity, while a very moderate success, recognized +indeed only as a trial, steadies a man, and sets him upon that serious +diligence upon which alone, either in art or business, any solid fortune +is built. + +Philip was fortunate in that his first novel won him a few friends and a +little recognition, but no popularity. It excited neither envy nor +hostility. In the perfunctory and somewhat commercial good words it +received, he recognized the good-nature of the world. In the few short +reviews that dealt seriously with his work, he was able, when the +excitement of seeing himself discussed had subsided, to read between the +lines why The Puritan Nun had failed to make a larger appeal. It was +idyllic and poetic, but it lacked virility; it lacked also simplicity in +dealing with the simple and profound facts of life. He had been too +solicitous to express himself, to write beautifully, instead of letting +the human emotions with which he had to deal show themselves. One notice +had said that it was too "literary"; by which, of course, the critic +meant that he did not follow the solid traditions, the essential elements +in all the great masterpieces of literature that have been created. And +yet he had shown a quality, a facility, a promise, that had gained him a +foothold and a support in the world of books and of the making of books. +And though he had declined Mr. Ault's tempting offer to illuminate his +transcontinental road with a literary torch, he none the less was pleased +with this recognition of his capacity and the value of his name. + +To say that Philip lived on hope during this summer of heat, suspensions, +and business derangement would be to allow him a too substantial +subsistence. Evelyn, indeed, seemed, at the distance of Newport, more +unattainable than ever, and the scant news he had of the drama enacted +there was a perpetual notice to him of the social gulf that lay between +them. And yet his dream was sustained by occasional assurances from Miss +McDonald of her confidence in Evelyn's belief in him, nay, of her trust, +and she even went so far as to say affection. So he went on building +castles in the air, which melted and were renewed day after day, like the +transient but unfailing splendor of the sunset. + +There was a certain exaltation in this indulgence of his passion that +stimulated his creative faculties, and, while his daily tasks kept him +from being morbid, his imagination was free to play with the construction +of a new story, to which his recent experience would give a certain +solidity and a knowledge of the human struggle as it is. + +He found himself observing character more closely than before, looking +for it not so much in books as in the people he met. There was Murad +Ault, for instance. How he would like to put him into a book! +Of course it would not do to copy a model, raw, like' that, but he fell +to studying his traits, trying to see the common humanity exhibited in +him. Was he a type or was he a freak? This was, however, too dangerous +ground until he knew more of life. + +The week's vacation allowed him by his house was passed in Rivervale. +There, in the calmness of country life, and in the domestic atmosphere of +affection which believed in him, he was far enough removed from the scene +of the spectres of his imagination to see them in proper perspective, and +there the lines of his new venture were laid down, to be worked out +later on, he well knew, in the anxiety and the toil which should endue +the skeleton with life. Rivervale, to be sure, was haunted by the +remembrance of Evelyn; very often the familiar scenes filled him with an +intolerable longing to see again the eyes that had inspired him, to hear +the voice that was like no other in the world, to take the little hand +that had often been so frankly placed in his, and to draw to him the form +in which was embodied all the grace and tender witchery of womanhood. +But the knowledge of what she expected of him was an inspiration, +always present in his visions of her. + +Something of his hopes and fears Alice divined, and he felt her sympathy, +although she did not intrude upon his reticence by any questions. They +talked about Evelyn, but it was Evelyn in Rivervale, not in Newport. In +fact, the sensible girl could regard her cousin's passion as nothing more +than a romance in a young author's life, and to her it was a sign of his +security that he had projected a new story. + +With instinctive perception of his need, she was ever turning his +thoughts upon his literary career. Of course she and all the household +seemed in a conspiracy to flatter and encourage the vanity of authorship. +Was not all the village talking about the reputation he had conferred on +it? Was it not proud of him? Indeed, it did imagine that the world +outside of Rivervale was very much interested in him, and that he was +already an author of distinction. The county Gazette had announced, as +an important piece of news, that the author of The Puritan Nun was on a +visit to his relatives, the Maitlands. This paragraph seemed to stand +out in the paper as an almost immodest exposure of family life, read +furtively at first, and not talked of, and yet every member of the family +was conscious of an increase in the family importance. Aunt Patience +discovered, from her outlook on the road, that summer visitors had a +habit of driving or walking past the house and then turning back to look +at it again. + +So Philip was not only distinguished, but he had the power of conferring +distinction. No one can envy a young author this first taste of fame, +this home recognition. Whatever he may do hereafter, how much more +substantial rewards he may attain, this first sweetness of incense to his +ambition will never come to him again. + +When Philip returned to town, the city was still a social desert, +and he plunged into the work piled up on his desk, the never-ceasing +accumulation of manuscripts, most of them shells which the workers have +dredged up from the mud of the literary ocean, in which the eager +publisher is always expecting to find pearls. Even Celia was still in +the country, and Philip's hours spared from drudgery were given to the +new story. His days, therefore, passed without incident, but not without +pleasure. For whatever annoyances the great city may have usually, it is +in the dull season--that is, the season of its summer out-of-doors +animation--a most attractive and, even stimulating place for the man who +has an absorbing pursuit, say a work in creative fiction. Undisturbed by +social claims or public interests, the very noise and whirl of the gay +metropolis seem to hem him in and protect the world of his own +imagination. + +The first disturbing event in this serenity was the report of the Mavick +ball, already referred to, and the interpretation put upon it by the +newspapers. In this light his plans seemed the merest moonshine. What +became of his fallacious hope of waiting when events were driving on at +this rate? What chance had he in such a social current? Would Evelyn be +strong enough to stem it and to wait also? And to wait for what? For +the indefinite and improbable event of a poor author, hardly yet +recognized as an author, coming into position, into an income (for that +was the weak point in his aspirations) that would not be laughed at by +the millionaire. When he coolly considered it, was it reasonable to +expect that Mr. and Mrs. Mavick would ever permit Evelyn to throw away +the brilliant opportunity for their daughter which was to be the crowning +end of their social ambition? The mere statement of the proposition was +enough to overwhelm him. + +That this would be the opinion of the world he could not doubt. +He felt very much alone. It was not, however, in any resolve to make a +confidante of Celia, but in an absolute need of companionship, that he +went to see if she had returned. That he had any personal interest in +this ball he did not intend to let Celia know, but talk with somebody he +must. Of his deep affection for this friend of his boyhood, there was no +doubt, nor of his knowledge of her devotion to his interests. Why, then, +was he reserved with her upon the absorbing interest of his life? + +Celia had returned, before the opening of the medical college, full of a +new idea. This was nothing new in her restless nature; but if Philip had +not been blinded by the common selfishness of his sex, he might have seen +in the gladness of her welcome of him something more than mere sisterly +affection. + +"Are you real glad to see me, Phil? I thought you might be lonesome by +this time in the deserted city." + +"I was, horribly." He was still holding her hand. "Without a chance to +talk with you or Alice, I am quite an orphan." + +"Ah! You or Alice! "A shade of disappointment came over her face as she +dropped his hand. But she rallied in a moment. + +"Poor boy! You ought to have a guardian. What heroine of romance are +you running after now?" + +"In my new story?" + +"Of course." + +"She isn't very well defined in my mind yet. But a lovely girl, without +anything peculiar, no education to speak of, or career, fascinating in +her womanhood, such as might walk out of the Bible. Don't you think that +would be a novelty? But it is the most difficult to do." + +"Negative. That sort has gone out. Philip, why don't you take the +heroine of the Mavick ball? There is a theme." She was watching him +shrewdly, and saw the flush in his face as he hurriedly asked, + +"Did you ever see her?" + +"Only at a distance. But you must know her well enough for a literary +purpose. The reports of the ball give you the setting of the drama." + +"Did you read them?" + +"I should say I did. Most amusing." + +"Celia, don't you think it would be an ungentlemanly thing to take a +social event like that?" + +"Why, you must take life as it is. Of course you would change the +details. You could lay the scene in Philadelphia. Nobody would suspect +you then." + +Philip shook his head. The conversation was not taking the turn that was +congenial to him. The ball seemed to him a kind of maelstrom in which +all his hopes were likely to be wrecked. And here was his old friend, +the keenest-sighted woman he knew, looking upon it simply as literary +material--a ridiculous social event. He had better change the subject. + +"So the college is not open yet?" + +"No, I came back because I had a new idea, and wanted time to look +around. We haven't got quite the right idea in our city missions. They +have another side. We need country missions." + +"Aren't they that now?" + +"No, I mean for the country. I've been about a good deal all this +vacation, and my ideas are confirmed. The country towns and villages are +full of young hoodlums and toughs, and all sorts of wickedness. They +could be improved by sending city boys up there--yes, and girls of tender +age. I don't mean the worst ones, not altogether. The young of a +certain low class growing up in the country are even worse than the same +class in the city, and they lack a civility of manner which is pretty +sure to exist in a city-bred person." + +"If the country is so bad, why send any more unregenerates into it?" + +"How do you know that anybody is always to be unregenerate? But I +wouldn't send thieves and imbeciles. I would select children of some +capacity, whose circumstances are against them where they are, and I am +sure they would make better material than a good deal of the young +generation in country villages now. This is what I mean by a mission for +the country. We have been bending all our efforts to the reformation of +the cities. What we need to go at now is the reforming of the country." + +"You have taken a big contract," said Philip, smiling at her enthusiasm. +"Don't you intend to go on with medicine?" + +"Certainly. At least far enough to be of some use in breaking up +people's ignorance about their own bodies. Half the physical as well as +moral misery comes from ignorance. Didn't I always tell you that I want +to know? A good many of my associates pretend to be agnostics, neither +believe or disbelieve in anything. The further I go the more I am +convinced that there is a positive basis for things. They talk about the +religion of humanity. I tell you, Philip, that humanity is pretty poor +stuff to build a religion on." + +The talk was wandering far away from what was in Philip's mind, and +presently Celia perceived his want of interest. + +"There, that is enough about myself. I want to know all about you, your +visit to Rivervale, how the publishing house suits you, how the story is +growing." + +And Philip talked about himself, and the rumors in Wall Street, and Mr. +Ault and his offer, and at last about the Mavicks--he could not help +that--until he felt that Celia was what she had always been to him, and +when he went away he held her hand and said what a dear, sweet friend she +was. + +And when he had gone, Celia sat a long time by the window, not seeing +much of the hot street into which she looked, until there were tears in +her eyes. + + + + +XXIV + +There was one man in New York who thoroughly enjoyed the summer. Murad +Ault was, as we say of a man who is free to indulge his natural powers, +in his element. There are ingenious people who think that if the +ordering of nature had been left to them, they could maintain moral +conditions, or at least restore a disturbed equilibrium, without +violence, without calling in the aid of cyclones and of uncontrollable +electric displays, in order to clear the air. There are people also who +hold that the moral atmosphere of the world does not require the +occasional intervention of Murad Ault. + +The conceit is flattering to human nature, but it is not borne out by the +performance of human nature in what is called the business world, which +is in such intimate alliance with the social world in such great centres +of conflict as London, New York, or Chicago. Mr. Ault is everywhere an +integral and necessary part of the prevailing system--that is, the system +by which the moral law is applied to business. The system, perhaps, +cannot be defended, but it cannot be explained without Mr. Ault. We may +argue that such a man is a disturber of trade, of legitimate operations, +of the fairest speculations, but when we see how uniform he is as a +phenomenon, we begin to be convinced that he is somehow indispensable to +the system itself. We cannot exactly understand why a cyclone should +pick up a peaceful village in Nebraska and deposit it in Kansas, where +there, is already enough of that sort, but we cannot conceive of Wall +Street continuing to be Wall Street unless it were now and then visited +by a powerful adjuster like Mr. Ault. + +The advent, then, of Murad Ault in New York was not a novelty, but a +continuation of like phenomena in the Street, ever since the day when +ingenious men discovered that the ability to guess correctly which of two +sparrows, sold for a farthing, lighting on the spire of Trinity Church, +will fly first, is an element in a successful and distinguished career. +There was nothing peculiar in kind in his career, only in the force +exhibited which lifted him among the few whose destructive energy the +world condones and admires as Napoleonic. He may have been an instrument +of Providence. When we do not know exactly what to do with an +exceptional man who is disagreeable, we call him an Instrument of +Providence. + +It is not, then, in anything exceptional that we are interested in the +operations of Murad Ault, but simply on account of his fortuitous +connection with a great fortune which had its origin in very much the +same cyclonic conditions that Mr. Ault reveled in. Those who know Wall +Street best, by reason of sad experience, say that the presiding deity +there is not the Chinese god, Luck, but the awful pagan deity, Nemesis. +Alas! how many innocent persons suffer in order to get justice done in +this world. + +Those who have unimpaired memories may recollect the fortune amassed, +many years previous to this history, by one Rodney Henderson, gathered +and enlarged by means not indictable, but which illustrate the wide +divergence between the criminal code and the moral law. This fortune, +upon the sudden death of its creator, had been largely diverted from its +charitable destination by fraud, by a crime that would have fallen within +the code if it had been known. This fortune had been enjoyed by those +who seized it for many years of great social success, rising into +acknowledged respectability and distinction; and had become the basis of +the chance of social elevation, which is dear to the hearts of so many +excellent people, who are compelled to wander about in a chaotic society +that has no hereditary titles. It was this fortune, the stake in such an +ambition, or perhaps destined in a new possessor to a nobler one, that +came in the way of Mr. Ault's extensive schemes. + +It is not necessary to infer that Mr. Ault was originally actuated by any +greed as to this special accumulation of property, or that he had any +malevolence towards Mr. Mavick; but the eagerness of his personal pursuit +led him into collisions. There were certain possessions of Mr. Mavick +that were desirable for the rounding-out of his plans--these graspings +were many of them understood by the public as necessary to the +"development of a system"--and in this collision of interests and fierce +strength a vindictive feeling was engendered, a feeling born, as has been +hinted, by Mr. Mavick's attempt to trick his temporary ally in a certain +operation, so that Mr. Ault's main purpose was to "down Mavick." +This was no doubt an exaggeration concerning a man with so many domestic +virtues as Mr. Ault, meaning by domestic virtues indulgence of his +family; but a fight for place or property in politics or in the Street +is pretty certain to take on a personal character. + +We can understand now why Mr. Ault read the accounts of the Mavick ball +with a grim smile. In speaking of it he used the vulgar term "splurge," +a word especially offensive to the refined society in which the Mavicks +had gained a foothold. And yet the word was on the lips of a great many +men on the Street. The shifting application of sympathy is a very queer +thing in this world. Mr. Ault was not a snob. Whatever else he was, he +made few pretensions. In his first advent he had been resisted as an +intruder and shunned as a vulgarian; but in time respect for his force +and luck mingled with fear of his reckless talent, and in the course of +events it began to be admitted that the rough diamond was being polished +into one of the corner-stones of the great business edifice. At the time +of this writing he did not altogether lack the sympathy of the Street, +and an increasing number of people were not sorry to see Mr. Mavick get +the worst of it in repeated trials of strength. And in each of these +trials it became increasingly difficult for Mr. Mavick to obtain the +assistance and the credit which are often indispensable to the strongest +men in a panic. + +The truth was that there were many men in the Street who were not sorry +to see Mr. Mavick worried. They remembered perfectly well the omniscient +snobbishness of Thomas Mavick when he held a position in the State +Department at Washington and was at the same time a secret agent of +Rodney Henderson. They did not change their opinion of him when, by his +alliance with Mrs. Henderson, he stepped into control of Mr. Henderson's +property and obtained the mission to Rome; but later on he had been +accepted as one of the powers in the financial world. There were a few +of the old stagers who never trusted him. Uncle Jerry Hollowell, for +instance, used to say, "Mavick is smart, smart as lightnin'; I guess +he'll make ducks and drakes of the Henderson property." They are very +superficial observers of Wall Street who think that character does not +tell there. Mr. Mavick may have realized that when in his straits he +looked around for assistance. + +The history of this panic summer in New York would not be worthy the +reader's attention were not the fortunes of some of his acquaintances +involved in it. It was not more intense than the usual panics, but it +lasted longer on account of the complications with uncertain government +policy, and it produced stagnation in social as well as business circles. +So quiet a place as Rivervale felt it in the diminution of city visitors, +and the great resorts showed it in increased civility to the small number +of guests. + +The summer at Newport, which had not been distinguished by many great +events, was drawing to a close--that is, it was in the period when those +who really loved the charming promenade which is so loved of the sea +began to enjoy themselves, and those who indulge in the pleasures of +hope, based upon a comfortable matrimonial establishment, are reckoning +up the results of the campaign. + +Mrs. Mavick, according to her own assertion, was one of those who enjoy +nature. "Nature and a few friends, not too many, only those whom one +trusts and who are companionable," she had said to Lord Montague. + +This young gentleman had found the pursuit of courtship in America +attended by a good many incidental social luxuries. It had been a wise +policy to impress him with the charm of a society which has unlimited +millions to make it attractive. Even to an impecunious noble there is a +charm in this, although the society itself has some of the lingering +conditions of its money origin. But since the great display of the ball, +and the legitimate inferences drawn from it by the press and the +fashionable world, Mrs. Mavick had endeavored to surround her intended +son-in-law with the toils of domestic peace. + +He must be made to feel at home. And this she did. Mrs. Mavick was as +admirable in the role of a domestic woman as of a woman of the world. +The simple pleasures, the confidences, the intimacies of home life +surrounded him. His own mother, the aged duchess, could not have looked +upon him with more affection, and possibly not have pampered him with so +many luxuries. There was only one thing wanting to make this home +complete. In conventional Europe the contracting parties are not the +signers of the marriage contract. In the United States the parties most +interested take the initiative in making the contract. + +Here lay the difficulty of the situation, a situation that puzzled Lord +Montague and enraged Mrs. Mavick. Evelyn maintained as much indifference +to the domestic as to the worldly situation. Her mother thought her +lifeless and insensible; she even went so far as to call her unwomanly in +her indifference to what any other woman would regard as an opportunity +for a brilliant career. + +Lifeless indeed she was, poor child; physically languid and scarcely able +to drag herself through the daily demands upon her strength. +Her mother made it a reproach that she was so pale and unresponsive. +Apparently she did not resist, she did everything she was told to do. +She passed, indeed, hours with Lord Montague, occasions contrived when +she was left alone in the house with him, and she made heroic efforts to +be interested, to find something in his mind that was in sympathy with +her own thoughts. With a woman's ready instinct she avoided committing +herself to his renewed proposals, sometimes covert, sometimes direct, but +the struggle tired her. At the end of all such interviews she had to +meet her mother, who, with a smile of hope and encouragement, always +said, "Well, I suppose you and Lord Montague have made it up," and then +to encounter the contempt expressed for her as a "goose." + +She was helpless in such toils. At times she felt actually abandoned of +any human aid, and in moods of despondency almost resolved to give up the +struggle. In the eyes of the world it was a good match, it would make +her mother happy, no doubt her father also; and was it not her duty to +put aside her repugnance, and go with the current of the social and +family forces that seemed irresistible? + +Few people can resist doing what is universally expected of them. This +invisible pressure is more difficult to stand against than individual +tyranny. There are no tragedies in our modern life so pathetic as the +ossification of women's hearts when love is crushed under the compulsion +of social and caste requirements. Everybody expected that Evelyn would +accept Lord Montague. It could be said that for her own reputation the +situation required this consummation of the intimacy of the season. And +the mother did not hesitate to put this interpretation upon the events +which were her own creation. + +But with such a character as Evelyn, who was a constant puzzle to her +mother, this argument had very little weight compared with her own sense +of duty to her parents. Her somewhat ideal education made worldly +advantages of little force in her mind, and love the one priceless +possession of a woman's heart which could not be bartered. And yet might +there not be an element of selfishness in this--might not its sacrifice +be a family duty? Mrs. Mavick having found this weak spot in her +daughter's armor, played upon it with all her sweet persuasive skill and +show of tenderness. + +"Of course, dear," she said, "you know what would make me happy. But I +do not want you to yield to my selfishness or even to your father's +ambition to see his only child in an exalted position in life. I can +bear the disappointment. I have had to bear many. But it is your own +happiness I am thinking of. And I think also of the cruel blow your +refusal will inflict upon a man whose heart is bound up in you." + +"But I don't love him." The girl was very pale, and she spoke with an +air of weariness, but still with a sort of dogged persistence. + +"You will in time. A young girl never knows her own heart, any more than +she knows the world." + +"Mother, that isn't all. It would be a sin to him to pretend to give him +a heart that was not his. I can't; I can't." + +"My dear child, that is his affair. He is willing to trust you, and to +win your love. When we act from a sense of duty the way is apt to open +to us. I have never told you of my own earlier experience. +I was not so young as you are when I married Mr. Henderson, but I had not +been without the fancies and experiences of a young girl. I might have +yielded to one of them but for family reasons. My father had lost his +fortune and had died, disappointed and broken down. My mother, a lovely +woman, was not strong, was not capable of fighting the world alone, and +she depended upon me, for in those days I had plenty of courage and +spirit. Mr. Henderson was a widower whom we had known as a friend before +the death of his accomplished wife. In his lonesomeness he turned to me. +In our friendlessness I turned to him. Did I love him? I esteemed him, +I respected him, I trusted him, that was all. He did not ask more than +that. And what a happy life we had! I shared in all his great plans. +And when in the midst of his career, with such large ideas of public +service and philanthropy, he was stricken down, he left to me, in the +confidence of his love, all that fortune which is some day to be yours." +Mrs. Mavick put her handkerchief to her eyes. "Ah, well, our destiny is +not in our hands. Heaven raised up for me another protector, another +friend. Perhaps some of my youthful illusions have vanished, but should +I have been happier if I had indulged them? I know your dear father does +not think so." + +"Mother," cried Evelyn, deeply moved by this unprecedented confidence, "I +cannot bear to see you suffer on my account. But must not every one +decide for herself what is right before God?" + +At this inopportune appeal to a higher power Mrs. Mavick had some +difficulty in restraining her surprise and indignation at what she +considered her child's stubbornness. But she conquered the inclination, +and simply looked sad and appealing when she said: + +"Yes, yes, you must decide for yourself. You must not consider your +mother as I did mine." + +This cruel remark cut the girl to the heart. The world seemed to whirl +around her, right and wrong and duty in a confused maze. Was she, then, +such a monster of ingratitude? She half rose to throw herself at her +mother's feet, upon her mother's mercy. And at the moment it was not her +reason but her heart that saved her. In the moral confusion rose the +image of Philip. Suppose she should gain the whole world and lose him! +And it was love, simple, trusting love, that put courage into her sinking +heart. + +"Mother, it is very hard. I love you; I could die for you. I am so +forlorn. But I cannot, I dare not, do such a thing, such a dreadful +thing!" + +She spoke brokenly, excitedly, she shuddered as she said the last words, +and her eyes were full of tears as she bent down and kissed her mother. + +When she had gone, Mrs. Mavick sat long in her chair, motionless between +bewilderment and rage. In her heart she was saying, "The obstinate, +foolish girl must be brought to reason!" + +A servant entered with a telegram. Mrs. Mavick took it, and held it +listlessly while the servant waited. "You can sign." After the door +closed--she was still thinking of Evelyn--she waited a moment before she +tore the envelope, and with no eagerness unfolded the official yellow +paper. And then she read: + + "I have made an assignment. T. M." + +A half-hour afterwards when a maid entered the room she found Mrs. Mavick +still seated in the armchair, her hands powerless at her side, her eyes +staring into space, her face haggard and old. + + + + +XXV + +The action of Thomas Mavick in giving up the fight was as unexpected in +New York as it was in Newport. It was a shock even to those familiar +with the Street. It was known that he was in trouble, but he had been in +trouble before. It was known that there had been sacrifices, efforts at +extension, efforts at compromise, but the general public fancied that the +Mavick fortune had a core too solid to be washed away by any storm. Only +a very few people knew--such old hands as Uncle Jerry Hollowell, and such +inquisitive bandits as Murad Ault--that the house of Mavick was a house +of cards, and that it might go down when the belief was destroyed that it +was of granite. + +The failure was not an ordinary sensation, and, according to the +excellent practices and differing humors of the daily newspapers, +it was made the most of, until the time came for the heavy weeklies +to handle it in its moral aspects as an illustration of modern +civilization. On the first morning there was substantial unanimity in +assuming the totality of the disaster, and the most ingenious artists in +headlines vied with each other in startling effects: "Crash in Wall +Street." "Mavick Runs Up the White Flag." "King of Wall Street Called +Down." "Ault Takes the Pot." "Dangerous to Dukes." "Mavick Bankrupt." +"The House of Mavick a Ruin." "Dukes and Drakes." "The Sea Goes Over +Him." + +This, however, was only the beginning. The sensation must be prolonged. +The next day there were attenuating circumstances. +It might be only a temporary embarrassment. The assets were vastly +greater than the liabilities. There was talk in financial circles of an +adjustment. With time the house could go on. The next day it was made a +reproach to the house that such deceptive hopes were put upon the public. +Journalistic enterprise had discovered that the extent of the liabilities +had been concealed. This attempt to deceive the public, these defenders +of the public interest would expose. The next day the wind blew from +another direction. The alarmists were rebuked. The creditors were +disposed to be lenient. Doubtful securities were likely to realize more +than was expected. The assignees were sharply scored for not taking the +newspapers into their confidence. + +And so for ten days the failure went on in the newspapers, backward and +forward, now hopeless, now relieved, now sunk in endless complications, +and fallen into the hands of the lawyers who could be trusted with the +most equitable distribution of the property involved, until the reading +public were glad to turn, with the same eager zest, to the case of the +actress who was found dead in a hotel in Jersey City. She was attended +only by her pet poodle, in whose collar was embedded a jewel of great +price. This jewel was traced to a New York establishment, whence it had +disappeared under circumstances that pointed to the criminality of a +scion of a well-known family--an exposure which would shake society to +its foundations. + +Meantime affairs took their usual course. The downfall of Mavick is too +well known in the Street to need explanation here. For a time it was +hoped that sacrifices of great interests would leave a modest little +fortune, but under the pressure of liquidation these hopes melted away. +If anything could be saved it would be only comparatively valueless +securities and embarrassed bits of property that usually are only a +delusion and a source of infinite worry to a bankrupt. It seemed +incredible that such a vast fortune should so disappear; but there were +wise men who, so they declared, had always predicted this disaster. For +some years after Henderson's death the fortune had appeared to expand +marvelously. It was, however, expanded, and not solidified. It had been +risked in many gigantic speculations (such as the Argentine), and it had +been liable to collapse at any time if its central credit was doubted. +Mavick's combinations were splendidly conceived, but he lacked the power +of coordination. And great as were his admitted abilities, he had never +inspired confidence. + +"And, besides," said Uncle Jerry, philosophizing about it in his homely +way, "there's that little devil of a Carmen, the most fascinating woman I +ever knew--it would take the Bank of England to run her. Why, when I see +that Golden House going up, I said I'd give 'em five years to balloon in +it. I was mistaken. They've floated it about eighteen. Some folks are +lucky--up to a certain point." + +Grave history gives but a paragraph to a personal celebrity of this sort. +When a ship goes down in a tempest off the New England coast, there is a +brief period of public shock and sympathy, and then the world passes on +to other accidents and pleasures; but for months relics of the great +vessel float ashore on lonely headlands or are cast up on sandy beaches, +and for years, in many a home made forlorn by the shipwreck, are aching +hearts and an ever-present calamity. + +The disaster of the house of Mavick was not accepted without a struggle, +lasting long after the public interest in the spectacle had abated--a +struggle to save the ship and then to pick up some debris from the great +wreck. The most pathetic sight in the business world is that of a +bankrupt, old and broken, pursuing with always deluded expectations the +remnants of his fortune, striving to make new combinations, involved in +lawsuits, alternately despairing, alternately hopeful in the chaos of his +affairs. This was the fate of Thomas Mavick. + +The news was all over Newport in a few hours after it had stricken down +Mrs. Mavick. The newspaper details the morning after were read with that +eager interest that the misfortunes of neighbors always excite. After +her first stupor, Mrs. Mavick refused to believe it. It could not be, +and her spirit of resistance rose with the frantic messages she sent to +her husband. Alas, the cold fact of the assignment remained. Still her +courage was not quite beaten down. The suspension could only be +temporary. She would not have it otherwise. Two days she showed herself +as usual in Newport, and carried herself bravely. The sympathy looked or +expressed was wormwood to her, but she met it with a reassuring smile. +To be sure it was very hard to bear such a blow, the result of a stock +intrigue, but it would soon pass over--it was a temporary embarrassment-- +that she said everywhere. + +She had not, however, told the news to Evelyn with any such smiling +confidence. There was still rage in her heart against her daughter, as +if her obstinacy had some connection with this blow of fate, and she did +not soften the announcement. She expected to sting her, and she did +astonish and she did grieve her, for the breaking-up of her world could +not do otherwise; but it was for her mother and not for herself that +Evelyn showed emotion. If their fortune was gone, then the obstacle was +removed that separated her from Philip. The world well lost! This +flashed through her mind before she had fairly grasped the extent of +the fatality, and it blunted her appreciation of it as an unmixed ruin. + +"Poor mamma!" was what she said. + +"Poor me!" cried Mrs. Mavick, looking with amazement at her daughter," +don't you understand that our life is all ruined?" + +"Yes, that part of it, but we are left. It might have been so much +worse." + +"Worse? You have no more feeling than a chip. You are a beggar! That +is all. What do you mean by worse?" + +"If father had done anything dishonorable!" suggested the girl, timidly, +a little scared by her mother's outburst. + +"Evelyn, you are a fool!" + +And perhaps she was, with such preposterous notions of what is really +valuable in life. There could be no doubt of it from Mrs. Mavick's point +of view. + +If Evelyn's conduct exasperated her, the non-appearance of Lord Montague +after the publication of the news seriously alarmed her. +No doubt he was shocked, but she could explain it to him, and perhaps he +was too much interested in Evelyn to be thrown off by this misfortune. +The third day she wrote him a note, a familiar, almost affectionate note, +chiding him for deserting them in their trouble. She assured him that +the news was greatly exaggerated, the embarrassment was only temporary, +such things were always happening in the Street. "You know," she said, +playfully, "it is our American way to be up in a minute when we seem to +be down." She asked him to call, for she had something that was +important to tell him, and, besides, she needed his counsel as a friend +of the house. The note was despatched by a messenger. + +In an hour it was returned, unopened, with a verbal message from his +host, saying that Lord Montague had received important news from London, +and that he had left town the day before. + +"Coward!" muttered the enraged woman, with closed teeth. "Men are all +cowards, put them to the test." + +The energetic woman judged from a too narrow basis. Because Mavick was +weak--and she had always secretly despised him for yielding to her--weak +as compared with her own indomitable spirit, she generalized wildly. Her +opinion of men would have been modified if she had come in contact with +Murad Ault. + +To one man in New York besides Mr. Ault the failure did not seem a +personal calamity. When Philip saw in the steamer departures the name of +Lord Montague, his spirits rose in spite of the thought that the heiress +was no longer an heiress. The sky lifted, there was a promise of fair +weather, the storm, for him, had indeed cleared the air. + +"Dear Philip," wrote Miss McDonald, "it is really dreadful news, but +I cannot be so very downhearted. It is the least of calamities that +could happen to my dear child. Didn't I tell you that it is always +darkest just before the dawn?" + +And Philip needed the hope of the dawn. Trial is good for any one, but +hopeless suffering for none. Philip had not been without hope, but it +was a visionary indulgence, against all evidence. It was the hope of +youth, not of reason. He stuck to his business doggedly, +he stuck to his writing doggedly, but over all his mind was a cloud, an +oppression not favorable to creative effort--that is, creative effort +sweet and not cynical, sunny and not morbid. + +And yet, who shall say that this very experience, this oppression of +circumstance, was not the thing needed for the development of the best +that was in him? Thrown back upon himself and denied an airy soaring in +the heights of a prosperous fancy, he had come to know himself and his +limitations. And in the year he had learned a great deal about his art. +For one thing he had come to the ground. He was looking more at life as +it is. His experience at the publishers had taught him one important +truth, and that is that a big subject does not make a big writer, that +all that any mind can contribute to the general thought of the world in +literature is what is in itself, and if there is nothing in himself it is +vain for the writer to go far afield for a theme. He had seen the young +artists, fretting for want of subjects, wandering the world over in +search of an object fitted to their genius, setting up their easels in +front of the marvels of nature and of art, in the expectation that genius +would descend upon them. + +If they could find something big enough to paint! And he had seen, +in exhibition after exhibition, that the artist who cannot paint a rail- +fence cannot paint a pyramid. A man does not become a good rider by +mounting an elephant; ten to one a donkey would suit him better. Philip +had begun to see that the life around him had elements enough of the +comic and the tragic to give full play to all his powers. + +He began to observe human beings as he had never done before. There were +only two questions, and they are at the bottom of all creative +literature--could he see them, could he make others see them? + +This was all as true before the Mavick failure as after; but, before, +what was the use of effort? Now there was every inducement to effort. +Ambition to succeed had taken on him the hold of necessity. And with a +free mind as to the obstacles that lay between him and the realization of +the great dream of his life, the winning of the one woman who could make +his life complete, Philip set to work with an earnestness and a clearness +of vision that had never been given him before. + +In the wreck of the Mavick estate, in its distribution, there are one or +two things of interest to the general reader. One of these was the fate +of the Golden House, as it was called. Mrs. Mavick had hurried back to +her town house, determined to save it at all hazard. The impossibility +of this was, however, soon apparent even to her intrepid spirit. She +would either sacrifice all else to save it, or--dark thoughts of ending +it in a conflagration entered her mind. This was only her first temper. +But to keep the house without a vast fortune to sustain it was an +impossibility, and, as it was the most conspicuous of Mavick's visible +possessions, perhaps the surrender of it, which she could not prevent, +would save certain odds and ends here and there. Whether she liked it or +not, the woman learned for once that her will had little to do with the +course of events. + +Its destination was gall and wormwood both to Carmen and her husband. +For it fell into the hands of Murad Ault. He coveted it as the most +striking symbol of the position he had conquered in the metropolis. Its +semi-barbaric splendor appealed also to his passion for display. And it +was notable that the taste of the rude lad of poverty--this uncultivated +offspring of a wandering gypsy and herb--collector--perhaps she had +ancient and noble blood in her veins--should be the same for material +ostentation and luxury as that of the cultivated, fastidious Mavick and +his worldly-minded wife. So persistent is the instinct of barbarism in +our modern civilization. + +When Ault told his wife what he had done, that sweet, domestic, and +sensible woman was very far from being elated. + +"I am almost sorry," she said. + +"Sorry for what?" asked Mr. Ault, gently, but greatly surprised. + +"For the Mavicks. I don't mean for Mrs. Mavick--I hear she is a worldly +and revengeful woman--but for the girl. It must be dreadful to turn her +out of all the surroundings of her happy life. And I hear she is as good +as she is lovely. Think what it would be for our own girls." + +"But it can't be helped," said Ault, persuasively. "The house had to be +sold, and it makes no difference who has it, so far as the girl is +concerned." + +"And don't you fear a little for our own girls, launching out that way?" + +"You are afraid they will get lost in that big house?" And Mr. Ault +laughed. "It isn't a bit too big or too good for them. At any rate, my +dear, in they go, and you must get ready to move. The house will be +empty in a week." + +"Murad," and Mrs. Ault spoke as if she were not thinking of the change +for herself, "there is one thing I wish you would do for me, dear." + +"What is that?" + +"Go to Mr. Mavick, or to Mrs. Mavick, or the assignees or whoever, and +have the daughter--yes, and her mother--free to take away anything they +want, anything dear to them by long association. Will you?" + +"I don't see how. Mavick wouldn't do it for us, and I guess he is too +proud to accept anything from me. I don't owe him anything. And then +the property is in the assignment. Whatever is there I bought with the +house." + +"I should be so much happier if you could do something about it." + +"Well, it don't matter much. I guess the assignees can make Mrs. Mavick +believe easy enough that certain things belong to her. But I would not +do it for any other living being but you." + +"By-the-way," he added, "there is another bit of property that I didn't +take, the Newport palace." + +"I should have dreaded that more than the other." + +"So I thought. And I have another plan. It's long been in my mind, and +we will carry it out next summer. There is a little plateau on the side +of the East Mountain in Rivervale, where there used to stand a shack of a +cabin, with a wild sort of garden-patch about it, a tumble-down root +fence, all in the midst of brush and briers. Lord, what a habitation it +was! But such a view--rivers, mountains, meadows, and orchards in the +distance! That is where I lived with my mother. What a life! +I hated everything, everybody but her." + +Mr. Ault paused, his strong, dark face working with passion, as the +memory of his outlawed boyhood revived. Is it possible that this pirate +of the Street had a bit of sentiment at the bottom of his heart? After a +moment he continued: + +"That was the spot to which my mother took me when I was knee-high. I've +bought it, bought the whole hillside. Next summer we will put up a house +there, not a very big house, just a long, low sort of a Moorish pavilion, +the architect calls it. I wish she could see it." + +Mrs. Ault rose, with tears in her gentle eyes, stood by her husband's +chair a moment, ran her fingers through his heavy black locks, bent down +and kissed him, and went away without a word. + +There was another bit of property that was not included in the wreck. +It belonged to Mrs. Mavick. This was a little house in Irving Place, in +which Carmen Eschelle lived with her mother, in the days before the death +of Henderson's first wife, not very happy days for that wife. Carmen had +a fancy for keeping it after her marriage. Not from any sentiment, she +told Mr. Mavick on the occasion of her second marriage, oh, no, but +somehow it seemed to her, in all her vast possessions left to her by +Henderson, the only real estate she had. It was the only thing that had +not passed into the absolute possession and control of Mavick. The great +town house, with all the rest, stood in Mavick's name. What secret +influence had he over her that made her submit to such a foolish +surrender? + +It was in this little house that the reduced family stowed itself after +the downfall. The little house, had it been sentient, would have been +astonished at the entrance into it of the furniture and the remnants of +luxurious living that Mrs. Mavick was persuaded belonged to her +personally. These reminders of former days were, after all, a mockery in +the narrow quarters and the pinched economy of the bankrupt. Yet they +were, for a time useful in preserving to Mrs. Mavick a measure of self- +respect, her self-respect having always been based upon what she had and +not what she was. In truth, the change of lot was harder for Mrs. Mavick +than for Evelyn, since the world in which the latter lived had not been +destroyed. She still had her books, she still had a great love in her +heart, and hope, almost now a sure hope, that her love would blossom +into a great happiness. + +But where was Philip? In all this time why did he make no sign? +At moments a great fear came over her. She was so ignorant of life. +Could he know what misery she was in, the daily witness of her father's +broken condition, of her mother's uncertain temper? + + + + +XXVI + +Is justice done in this world only by a succession of injustices? +Is there any law that a wrong must right a wrong? Did it rebuke the +means by which the vast fortune of Henderson was accumulated, that it was +defeated of any good use by the fraud of his wife? Was her action +punished by the same unscrupulous tactics of the Street that originally +made the fortune? And Ault? Would a stronger pirate arise in time to +despoil him, and so act as the Nemesis of all violation of the law of +honest relations between men? + +The comfort is, in all this struggle of the evil powers, masked as +justice, that the Almighty Ruler of the world does not forget his own, +and shows them a smiling face in the midst of disaster. There is no +mystery in this. For the noble part in man cannot be touched in its +integrity by such vulgar disasters as we are considering. In those days +when Evelyn saw dissolving about her the material splendors of her old +life, while the Golden House was being dismantled, and she was taking sad +leave of the scenes of her girlhood, so vivid with memory of affection +and of intellectual activity, they seemed only the shell, the casting-off +of which gave her freedom. The sun never shone brighter, there was never +such singing in her heart, as on the morning when she was free to go to +Mrs. Van Cortlandt's and throw herself into the arms of her dear +governess and talk of Philip. + +Why not? Perhaps she had not that kind of maidenly shyness, sometimes +called conventional propriety, sometimes described as 'mauvaise honte' +which a woman of the world would have shown. The impulses of her heart +followed as direct lines as the reasoning of her brain. Was it due to +her peculiar education, education only in the noblest ideas of the race, +that she should be a sort of reversion, in our complicated life, to the +type of woman in the old societies (we like to believe there was such a +type as the poets love, the Nausicaas), who were single-minded, as frank +to avow affection as opinion? + +"Have you seen him?" she asked. + +"No, but he has written." + +"And you think he--" the girl had her arms around her friend's neck +again, and concealed her blushing face don't make me say it, McDonald." + +"Yes, dear, I am sure--I know he does." + +There was a little quiver in her form, but it was not of agony; then she +put her hands on the shoulders of her governess, and, looking in her +eyes, said: + +"When you did see him, how did he look--how did he look?--pretty sad?" + +"How could he help it?" + +"The dear! But was he well?" + +"Splendidly, so he said. Like his old self." + +"Tell me," said the girl. + +And Miss McDonald went into delightful details, how he looked, how he +walked, how his voice sounded, how he talked, how melancholy he was, and +how full of determination he was, his eyes were so kindly, and his smile +was never so sweet as now when there was sadness in it. + +"It is very long since," drearily murmured the girl. And then she +continued, partly to herself, partly to Miss McDonald: "He will come now, +can't he? Not to that house. Never would I wish him to set foot in it. +But he is not forbidden to come to the place where we are going. Soon, +you think? Perhaps you might hint--oh no, not from me--just your idea. +Wouldn't it be natural, after our misfortune? Perhaps mamma would feel +differently after what has happened. Oh, that Montague! that horrid +little man! I think--I think I shall receive him coolly at first, just +to see." + +But it was not immediately that the chance for a guileless woman to show +her coolness to her lover was to occur. This postponement was not due to +the coolness or to the good sense of Philip. When the catastrophe came, +his first impulse was that of a fireman who plunges into a burning +building to rescue the imperiled inmates. He pictured in his mind a +certain nobility of action in going forward to the unfortunate family +with his sympathy, and appearing to them in the heroic attitude of a man +whose love has no alloy of self-interest. They should speedily +understand that it was not the heiress, but the woman, with whom he was +in love. + +But Miss McDonald understood human nature better than that, at least the +nature of Mrs. Mavick. People of her temperament, humiliated and +enraged, are best left alone. The fierceness with which she would have +turned upon any of her society friends who should have presumed to offer +her condolence, however sweetly the condescension were concealed, would +have been vented without mercy upon the man whose presence would have +reminded her of her foolish rudeness to him, and of the bitter failure of +her schemes for her daughter. "Wait, wait," said the good counselor, +"until the turmoil has subsided, and the hard pressure of circumstances +compels her to look at things in their natural relations. She is too +sore now in--the wreck of all her hopes." + +But, indeed, her hopes were not all surrendered in a moment. She had +more spirit than her husband in their calamity. She was, in fact, a born +gambler; she had the qualities of her temperament, and would not believe +that courage and luck could not retrieve, at least partially, their +fortune. It seemed incredible in the Street that the widow of Henderson +should have given over her property so completely to her second husband, +and it was a surprise to find that there was very little of value that +the assignment of Mavick did not carry with it. The Street did not know +the guilty secret between Mavick and his wife that made them cowards to +each other. Nor did it understand that Carmen was the more venturesome +gambler of the two, and that gradually, for the success of promising +schemes, she had thrown one thing after another into the common +speculation, until practically all the property stood in Mavick's name. +Was she a fool in this, as so many women are about their separate +property, or was she cheated? + +The palace on Fifth Avenue was not even in her name. When she realized +that, there was a scene--but this is not a history of the quarrels of +Carmen and her husband after the break-down. + +The reader would not be interested--the public of the time were not--in +the adjustment of Mavick and his wife to their new conditions. +The broken-down, defeated bankrupt is no novelty in Wall Street, the man +struggling to keep his foothold in the business of the Street, and +descending lower and lower in the scale. The shrewd curbstone broker may +climb to a seat in the Stock Exchange; quite as often a lord of the +Board, a commander of millions, may be reduced to the seedy watcher of +the bulletin-board in a bucket-shop. + +At first, in the excitement and the confusion, amid the debris of so much +possible wealth, Mavick kept a sort of position, and did not immediately +feel the pinch of vulgar poverty. But the day came when all illusion +vanished, and it was a question of providing from day to day for the +small requirements of the house in Irving Place. + +It was not a cheerful household; reproaches are hard to bear when +physical energy is wanting to resist them. Mavick had visibly aged +during the year. It was only in his office that he maintained anything +of the spruce appearance and 'sang froid' which had distinguished the +diplomatist and the young adventurer. At home he had fallen into the +slovenliness that marks a disappointed old age. Was Mrs. Mavick peevish +and unreasonable? Very likely. And had she not reason to be? Was she, +as a woman, any more likely to be reconciled to her fate when her mirror +told her, with pitiless reflection, that she was an old woman? + +Philip waited. Under the circumstances would not both Philip and Evelyn +have been justified in disregarding the prohibition that forbade their +meeting or even writing to each other? It may be a nice question, but it +did not seem so to these two, who did not juggle with their consciences. +Philip had given his word. Evelyn would tolerate no concealments; she +was just that simple-minded in her filial notions. + +The girl, however, had one comfort, and that was the knowledge of Philip +through Miss McDonald, whom she saw frequently, and to whom even Mrs. +Mavick was in a manner reconciled. She was often in the little house in +Irving Place. There was nothing in her manner to remind Mrs. Mavick that +she had done her a great wrong, and her cheerfulness and good sense made +her presence and talk a relief from the monotony of the defeated woman's +life. + +It came about, therefore, that one day Philip made his way down into the +city to seek an interview with Mr. Mavick. He found him, after some +inquiry, in a barren little office, occupying one of the rented desks +with three or four habitues of the Street, one of them an old man like +himself, the others mere lads who did not intend to remain long in such +cramped quarters. + +Mr. Mavick arose when his visitor stood at his desk, buttoned up his +frock-coat, and extended his hand with a show of business cordiality, and +motioned him to a chair. Philip was greatly shocked at the change in Mr. +Mavick's appearance. + +"I beg your pardon," he said, "for disturbing you in business hours." + +"No disturbance," he answered, with something of the old cynical smile on +his lips. + +"Long ago I called to see you on the errand I have now, but you were not +in town. It was, Mr. Mavick," and Philip hesitated and looked down, "in +regard to your daughter." + +"Ah, I did not hear of it." + +"No? Well, Mr. Mavick, I was pretty presumptuous, for I had no foothold +in the city, except a law clerkship." + +"I remember--Hunt, Sharp & Tweedle; why didn't you keep it?" + +"I wasn't fitted for the law." + +"Oh, literature? Does literature pay?" + +"Not in itself, not for many," and Philip forced a laugh. "But it led to +a situation in a first-rate publishing house--an apprenticeship that has +now given me a position that seems to be permanent, with prospects +beyond, and a very fair salary. It would not seem much to you, +Mr. Mavick," and Philip tried to laugh again. + +"I don't know," replied Mr. Mavick. "If a fellow has any sort of salary +these times, I should advise him to hold on to it. By-the-way, +Mr. Burnett, Hunt's a Republican, isn't he?" + +"He was," replied Philip, "the last I knew." + +"Do you happen to know whether he knows Bilbrick, the present Collector?" + +"Mr. Bilbrick used to be a client of his." + +"Just so. I think I'll see Hunt. A salary isn't a bad thing for a--for +a man who has retired pretty much from business. But you were saying, +Mr. Burnett?" + +"I was going to say, Mr. Mavick, that there was a little something more +than my salary that I can count on pretty regularly now from the +magazines, and I have had another story, a novel, accepted, and--you +won't think me vain--the publisher says it will go; if it doesn't have a +big sale he will--" + +"Make it up to you?" + +"Not exactly," and Philip laughed; "he will be greatly mistaken." + +"I suppose it is a kind of lottery, like most things. The publishers +have to take risks. The only harm I wish them is that they were +compelled to read all the stuff they try to make us read. Ah, well. Mr. +Burnett, I hope you have made a hit. It is pretty much the same thing in +our business. The publisher bulls his own book and bears the other +fellow's. Is it a New York story?" + +"Partly; things come to a focus here, you know." + +"I could give you points. It's a devil of a place. I guess the +novelists are too near to see the romance of it. When I was in Rome I +amused myself by diving into the mediaeval records. Steel and poison +were the weapons then. We have a different method now, but it comes to +the same thing, and we say we are more civilized. I think our way is +more devilishly dramatic than the old brute fashion. Yes, I could give +you points." + +"I should be greatly obliged," said Philip, seeing the way to bring the +conversation back to its starting point; "your wide experience of life-- +if you had leisure at home some time." + +"Oh," replied Mavick, with more good-humor in his laugh than he had shown +before, "you needn't beat about the bush. Have you seen Evelyn?" + +"No, not since that dinner at the Van Cortlandts'." + +"Huh! for myself, I should be pleased to see you any time, Mr. Burnett. +Mrs. Mavick hasn't felt like seeing anybody lately. But I'll see, I'll +see." + +The two men rose and shook hands, as men shake hands when they have an +understanding. + +"I'm glad you are doing well," Mr. Mavick added; "your life is before +you, mine is behind me; that makes a heap of difference." + +Within a few days Philip received a note from Mrs. Mavick--not an +effusive note, not an explanatory note, not an apologetic note, simply a +note as if nothing unusual had happened--if Mr. Burnett had leisure, +would he drop in at five o'clock in Irving Place for a cup of tea? + +Not one minute by his watch after the hour named, Philip rang the bell +and was shown into a little parlor at the front. There was only one +person in the room, a lady in exquisite toilet, who rose rather languidly +to meet him, exactly as if the visitor were accustomed to drop in to tea +at that hour. + +Philip hesitated a moment near the door, embarrassed by a mortifying +recollection of his last interview with Mrs. Mavick, and in that moment +he saw her face. Heavens, what a change! And yet it was a smiling face. + +There is a portrait of Carmen by a foreign artist, who was years ago the +temporary fashion in New York, painted the year after her second marriage +and her return from Rome, which excited much comment at the time. Philip +had seen it in more than one portrait exhibition. + +Its technical excellence was considerable. The artist had evidently +intended to represent a woman piquant and fascinating, if not strictly +beautiful. Many persons said it was lovely. Other critics said that, +whether the artist intended it or not, he had revealed the real character +of the subject. There was something sinister in its beauty. One artist, +who was out of fashion as an idealist, said, of course privately, that +the more he looked at it the more hideous it became to him--like one of +Blake's objective portraits of a "soul"--the naked soul of an evil woman +showing through the mask of all her feminine fascinations--the possible +hell, so he put it, under a woman's charm. + +It was this in the portrait that Philip saw in the face smiling a +welcome--like an old, sweetly smiling Lalage--from which had passed away +youth and the sustaining consciousness of wealth and of a place in the +great world. The smile was no longer sweet, though the words from the +lips were honeyed. + +"It is very good of you to drop in in this way, Mr. Burnett," she said, +as she gave him her hand. "It is very quiet down here." + +"It is to me the pleasantest part of the city." + +"You think so now. I thought so once," and there was a note of sadness +in her voice. "But it isn't New York. It is a place for the people who +are left." + +"But it has associations." + +"Yes, I know. We pretend that it is more aristocratic. That means the +rents are lower. It is a place for youth to begin and for age to end. +We seem to go round in a circle. Mr. Mavick began in the service of the +government, now he has entered it again--ah, you did not know?--a place +in the Custom-House. He says it is easier to collect other people's +revenues than your own. Do you know, Mr. Burnett, I do not see much +use in collecting revenues anyway--so far as New York is concerned +the people get little good of them. Look out there at that cloud of dust +in the street." + +Mrs. Mavick rambled on in the whimsical, cynical fashion of old ladies +when they cease to have any active responsibility in life and become +spectators of it. Their remaining enjoyment is the indulgence of frank +speech. + +"But I thought," Philip interrupted, "that this part of the town was +specially New York." + +"New York!" cried Carmen, with animation. "The New York of the +newspapers, of the country imagination; the New York as it is known in +Paris is in Wall Street and in the palaces up-town. Who are the kings of +Wall Street, and who build the palaces up-town? They say that there are +no Athenians in Athens, and no Romans in Rome. How many New-Yorkers are +there in New York? Do New-Yorkers control the capital, rule the +politics, build the palaces, direct the newspapers, furnish the +entertainment, manufacture the literature, set the pace in society? Even +the socialists and mobocrats are not native. Successive invaders, as in +Rome, overrun and occupy the town. + +"No, Mr. Burnett, I have left the existing New York. How queer it is to +think about it. My first husband was from New Hampshire. My second +husband was from Illinois. And there is your Murad Ault. The Lord knows +where he came from. + +"Talk about the barbarians occupying Rome! Look at that Ault in a +palace! Who was that emperor--Caligula?--I am like the young lady from a +finishing-school who said she never could remember which came first in +history, Greece or Rome--who stabled his horses with stalls and mangers +of gold? The Aults stable themselves that way. Ah, me! Let me give you +a cup of tea. Even that is English." + +"It's an innocent pastime," she continued, as Philip stirred his tea, in +perplexity as to how he should begin to say what he had to say--"you +won't object if I light a cigarette? One ought to retain at least one +bad habit to keep from spiritual pride. Tea is an excuse for this. I +don't think it a bad habit, though some people say that civilization is +only exchanging one bad habit for another. Everything changes." + +"I don't think I have changed, Mrs. Mavick," said Philip, with +earnestness. + +"No? But you will. I have known lots of people who said they never +would change. They all did. No, you need not protest. I believe in you +now, or I should not be drinking tea with you. But you must be +tired of an old woman's gossip. Evelyn has gone out for a walk; she +didn't know. I expect her any minute. Ah, I think that is her ring. I +will let her in. There is nothing so hateful as a surprise." + +She turned and gave Philip her hand, and perhaps she was sincere--she had +a habit of being so when it suited her interests--when she said, "There +are no bygones, my friend." + +Philip waited, his heart beating a hundred to the minute. He heard +greetings and whisperings in the passage-way, and then--time seemed to +stand still--the door opened and Evelyn stood on the threshold, radiant +from her walk, her face flushed, the dainty little figure poised in timid +expectation, in maidenly hesitation, and then she stepped forward to meet +his advance, with welcome in her great eyes, and gave him her hand in the +old-fashioned frankness. + +"I am so glad to see you." + +Philip murmured something in reply and they were seated. + +That was all. It was so different from the meeting as Philip had a +hundred times imagined it. + +"It has been very long," said Philip, who was devouring the girl with his +eyes very long to me." + +"I thought you had been very busy," she replied, demurely. Her composure +was very irritating. + +"If you thought about it at all, Miss Mavick." + +"That is not like you, Mr. Burnett," Evelyn replied, looking up suddenly +with troubled eyes. + +"I didn't mean that," said Philip, moving uneasily in his chair, +"I--so many things have happened. You know a person can be busy and not +happy." + +"I know that. I was not always happy," said the girl, with the air of +making a confession. "But I liked to hear from time to time of the +success of my friends," she added, ingenuously. And then, quite +inconsequently, "I suppose you have news from Rivervale?" + +Yes, Philip heard often from Alice, and he told the news as well as he +could, and the talk drifted along--how strange it seemed!--about things +in which neither of them felt any interest at the moment. +Was there no way to break the barrier that the little brown girl had +thrown around herself? Were all women, then, alike in parrying and +fencing? The talk went on, friendly enough at last, about a thousand +things. It might have been any afternoon call on a dear friend. And at +length Philip rose to go. + +"I hope I may see you again, soon." + +"Of course," said Evelyn, cheerfully. "I am sure father will be +delighted to see you. He enjoys so little now." + +He had taken both her hands to say good-by, and was looking hungrily into +her eyes. + +"I can't go so. Evelyn, you know, you must know, I love you." + +And before the girl comprehended him he had drawn her to him and pressed +his lips upon hers. + +The girl started back as if stung, and looked at him with flashing eyes. + +"What have you done, what have you done to me?" + +Her eyes were clouded, and she put her hands to her face, trembling, and +then with a cry, as of a soul born into the world, threw herself upon +him, her arms around his neck-- + +"Philip, Philip, my Philip!" + + + +XXVII + +Perhaps Philip's announcement of his good-fortune to Alice and to Celia +was not very coherent, but his meaning was plain. Perhaps he was +conscious that the tidings would not increase the cheerfulness of Celia's +single-handed struggle for the ideal life; at least, he would rather +write than tell her face to face. + +However he put the matter to her, with what protestations of affectionate +friendship and trust he wrapped up the statement that he made as matter +of fact as possible, he could not conceal the ecstatic state of his mind. + +Nothing like it certainly had happened to anybody in the world before. +All the dream of his boyhood, romantic and rose-colored, all the +aspirations of his manhood, for recognition, honor, a place in the life +of his time, were mere illusions compared to this wonderful crown of +life--a woman's love. Where did it come from into this miserable world, +this heavenly ray, this pure gift out of the divine beneficence, this +spotless flower in a humanity so astray, this sure prophecy of the final +redemption of the world? The immeasurable love of a good woman! And to +him! Philip felt humble in his exaltation, charitable in his selfish +appropriation. He wanted to write to Celia--but he did not--that he +loved her more than ever. But to Alice he could pour out his wealth +of affection, quickened to all the world by this great love, for he knew +that her happiness would be in his happiness. + +The response from Alice was what he expected, tender, sweet, domestic, +and it was full of praise of Evelyn, of love for her. "Perhaps, dear +Phil," she wrote, "I shall love her more than I do you. I almost think-- +did I not remember what a bad boy you could be sometimes--that each one +of you is too good for the other. But, Phil, if you should ever come to +think that she is not too good for you, you will not be good enough for +her. I can't think she is perfect, any more than you are perfect--you +will find that she is just a woman--but there is nothing in all life so +precious as such a heart as hers. You will come here, of course, and at +once, whenever it is. You know that big, square, old-fashioned corner +chamber, with the high-poster. That is yours. Evelyn never saw it. The +morning and the evening sun shoot across it, and the front windows look +on the great green crown of Mount Peak. You know it. There is not such +a place in the world to hear the low and peaceful murmur of the river, +all night long, rushing, tumbling, crooning, I used to think when I was a +little girl and dreamed of things unseen, and still going on when the +birds begin to sing in the dawn. And with Evelyn! Dear Phil!" + +It was in another strain, but not less full of real affection, that Celia +wrote: + +"I am not going to congratulate you. You are long past the need of that. +But you know that I am happy in having you happy. You thought I never +saw anything? I wonder if men are as blind as they seem to be? And I +had fears. Do you know a man ought to build his own monument. If he +goes into a monument built for him, that is the end of him. Now you can +work, and you will. I am so glad she isn't an heiress any more. I guess +there was a curse on that fortune. But she has eluded it. I believe all +you tell me about her. Perhaps there are more such women in the world +than you think. Some day I shall know her, and soon. I do long to see +her. Love her I feel sure I shall. + +"You ask about myself. I am the same, but things change. When I get my +medical diploma I shall decide what to do. My little property just +suffices, with economy, and I enjoy economy. I doubt if I do any general +practice for pay. There are so many young doctors that need the money +for practice more than I do. And perhaps taking it up as a living would +make me sort of hard and perfunctory. And there is so much to do in this +great New York among the unfortunate that a woman who knows medicine can +do better than any one else. + +"Ah, me, I am happy in a way, or I expect to be. Everybody--it isn't +because I am a woman I say this--needs something to lean on now and then. +There isn't much to lean on in the college, nor in many of my zealous and +ambitious companions there. There is more faith in the poor people down +in the wards where I go. They are kind to each other, and most of them, +not all, believe in something. They, have that, at any rate, in all +their trials and poverty. Philip, don't despise the invisible. I have +got into the habit of going into a Catholic church down there, when I am +tired and discouraged, and getting the peace of it. It is a sort of open +door! You need not jump to the conclusion that I am 'going over.' Maybe +I am going back. I don't know. I have always you know, been looking for +something. + +"I like to sit there in that dim quiet and think of things I can't think +of elsewhere. Do you think I am queer? Philip, all women are queer. +They haven't yet been explained. That is the reason why the novelists +find it next to impossible, with all the materials at hand, to make a +good woman--that is a woman. Do you know what it is to want what you +don't want? Longing is one thing and reason another. + +"Perhaps I have depended too much on my reason. If you long to go to a +place where you will have peace, why should you let what you call your +reason stand in the way? Perhaps your reason is foolishness. You will +laugh a little at this, and say that I am tired. No. Only I am not so +sure of things as I used to be. Do you remember when we children used to +sit under that tree by the Deerfield, how confident I was that I +understood all about life, and my airs of superiority? + +"Well, I don't know as much now. But there is one thing that has survived +and grown with the years, and that, Philip, is your dear friendship." + +What was it in this unassuming, but no doubt sufficiently conceited and +ambitious, young fellow that he should have the affection, the love, of +three such women? + +Is affection as whimsically, as blindly distributed as wealth? It is the +experience of life that it is rare to keep either to the end, but as a +man is judged not so much by his ability to make money as to keep it, so +it is fair to estimate his qualities by his power to retain friendship. +New York is full of failures, bankrupts in fortune and bankrupts in +affection, but this melancholy aspect of the town is on the surface, and +is not to be considered in comparison with the great body of moderately +contented, moderately successful, and on the whole happy households. In +this it is a microcosm of the world. + +To Evelyn and Philip, judging the world a good deal by each other, +in those months before their marriage, when surprising perfection and new +tenderness were daily developed, the gay and busy city seemed a sort of +paradise. + +Mysterious things were going on in the weeks immediately preceding the +wedding. There was a conspiracy between Miss McDonald and Philip in the +furnishing and setting in order a tiny apartment on the Heights, +overlooking the city, the lordly Hudson, and its romantic hills. +And when, after the ceremony, on a radiant afternoon in early June, the +wedded lovers went to their new home, it was the housekeeper, the old +governess, who opened the door and took into her arms the child she had +loved and lost awhile. + +This fragment of history leaves Philip Burnett on the threshold of his +career. Those who know him only by his books may have been interested in +his experiences, in the merciful interposition of disaster, before he +came into the great fortune of the love of Evelyn Mavick. + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of That Fortune +by Charles Dudley Warner + diff --git a/old/cwfrt11.zip b/old/cwfrt11.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..150b340 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/cwfrt11.zip |