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+Project Gutenberg's Stories by American Authors, Volume 3, by Various
+
+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: Stories by American Authors, Volume 3
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: January 27, 2010 [EBook #31095]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES--AMERICAN AUTHORS, VOL 3 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by D Alexander, Juliet Sutherland and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ Stories by American Authors
+
+ VOLUME III
+
+ _THE SPIDER'S EYE_
+ BY LUCRETIA P. HALE
+
+ _A STORY OF THE LATIN QUARTER_
+ BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT
+
+ _TWO PURSE-COMPANIONS_
+ BY GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP
+
+ _POOR OGLA-MOGA_
+ BY DAVID D. LLOYD
+
+ _A MEMORABLE MURDER_
+ BY CELIA THAXTER
+
+ _VENETIAN GLASS_
+ BY BRANDER MATTHEWS
+
+ NEW YORK
+ CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
+ 1896
+
+
+
+
+ COPYRIGHT, 1884-1885, BY
+ CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
+
+
+
+
+_The Stories in this Volume are protected by copyright, and are
+printed here by authority of the authors or their representatives._
+
+
+
+
+ [Illustration: Very truly yours,
+ Octave Thanet]
+
+
+
+
+THE SPIDER'S EYE.
+
+BY LUCRETIA P. HALE.
+
+_Putnam's Magazine, July, 1856._
+
+
+There are whispering galleries, where, if the ear is placed in a
+certain position, it takes in the sound of the lowest whisper from
+the opposite side of the room. But, to produce this effect, the
+architecture of the apartment must be of a peculiar nature, and,
+especially, the rules and laws of sound must be observed.
+
+I have often thought that, were one wise enough, there might be found,
+in every room, a centre to which all sound must converge. Nay, that
+perhaps such a focus had already been discovered by some one who has
+wished to appear wiser than his neighbors, who has made use of some
+hitherto unknown scientific fact, and has on any one occasion, or on
+many occasions, thus made himself the centre of information.
+
+These ideas occurred to my mind when I arrived the other night early
+at the theatre, and was for a time, literally, the only occupant of
+the house. I fell to marvelling at the skill of the architect who has
+been so successful in the acoustic arrangements of this theatre. Not a
+sound, so it is said, is lost from the stage upon any part of the
+house. The lowest sob of a dying heroine, in her very last agony, is
+heard as plainly by the occupant of the back seat of the amphitheatre,
+as are the thundering denunciations of the tragic actor in the wildest
+of gladiatorial scenes.
+
+I wondered if this were one of those rules that worked both ways; if
+the stage performer, in a moment of silent by-play, could hear the
+sentimental whisper of the belle in the box opposite, as well as the
+noisy applause of the claqueur in the front seat. If so, the audience
+might become, to him, the peopled stage, filled with the varied and
+incongruous characters.
+
+Then if art can produce such effects upon what we call an ethereal
+substance--if the waves of air can be compelled to carry their message
+only in the directions in which it is taught to go--what influence
+would such power have on more spiritual media? In other worlds, where
+it is not necessary for thoughts to express themselves in words, but
+where some more subtle power than that of air conveys ideas from one
+being to another, it is possible that an inquiring being might place
+himself at some central point where he might gather in all the
+information that is afloat in such a spiritual existence.
+
+Full of these thoughts, and my head, perhaps, a little bewildered by
+them, I passed unobserved into the orchestra, and ensconced myself in
+a little niche under the music-desk of the leader. I was surprised to
+find myself in a little cavity, from which there were loop-holes of
+observation into every part of the house, while there was a front view
+of the stage when the curtain should be raised. Seduced by the comfort
+of this little nook, and my speculations not being of the liveliest
+nature, it is not to be wondered at that I fell into a gentle sleep.
+
+I was aroused presently by the baton of the leader, struck with some
+force upon the desk over my head. I was aware, at the same time, of a
+whispering all around my ears, and an incessant noise, like that of
+aspen leaves in a summer breeze, which, in spite of its softness and
+delicacy, overpowered the sound of the loud orchestra. When I was able
+to recover myself, I began to find that I had indeed placed myself in
+the centre of the house; not in the centre of sound, but, if I
+may so express myself, of sensation. I was not listening to the
+conversations, but suddenly found myself the confidant of the thoughts
+of all the occupants of this well-filled house. I was lost in the
+multiplicity of ideas that were poured in upon me, and endeavored to
+concentrate myself upon one series of thoughts. I looked through my
+loop-holes, and presently selected one group towards which I might
+direct the opera-glass of my mental observation.
+
+There sat the five Misses Seymour. We had always distinguished them as
+the tall one, the light-haired one, the one who painted in oils, the
+one who had been south, and the little one whom nobody knew anything
+about. This individuality had been our only guide after having engaged
+Miss Seymour for a dance, and this was sufficient. The one who painted
+in oils always refused to dance; the one who had been south spoke with
+an accent, and said "_chick'n_" and "_fush_," if the conversation
+turned upon the bill of fare; and the others were distinguished by
+their personal appearance.
+
+Now I felt anxious to discover more certainly which was which.
+I found, presently, that instead of contenting myself with the
+superficial layer of thought over my mind, created by the
+circumstances in which they were placed, I was penetrating into
+what they really were. A few minutes showed me what had been their
+occupations for the day, and what were their plans for the next. I
+saw, at once, all their regrets and ambitions.
+
+It had been the day of Mrs. Jay's famous matinee. I had not been at
+the reception, but Frank Leslie had told me all about it, and that all
+the Seymours were there; and about Miss Seymour's fainting. I knew
+Frank was in love with one of the Miss Seymours, but I never had found
+out which, and I was not sure that Frank himself knew.
+
+How suddenly did these five characters, whom before I had found it
+difficult to distinguish, stand out now with differing features. I saw
+Aurelia--that was the tall one--enter the drawing-room very stately
+in her beauty. No wonder that every one had turned round to look at
+her; to admire her first, and then criticise her, because she seemed
+so cold and statue-like. But to-night she was going over the whole
+scene in her thoughts. I heard the throbbing of her heart as in memory
+she was bringing back the morning's events. She had refused to dance,
+because she was sure she should not have the strength to go through a
+polka. She had preferred to sink into a seat by the conservatory, and
+upheld by the excitement of the music to await the meeting.
+
+Oh! in this everyday world, where its repeated succession of events is
+gone through with in composure, how easy it is to control the wildest
+passions. A conventional smile and a stiff bow are the draperies that
+veil the intensest unspoken emotions. It was under this disguise that
+Miss Seymour was to greet Gerald Lawson. He went to Canton three years
+ago, and before he went she had promised to marry him. She promised
+one gay evening after "the German." She had been carried away by
+the moment. Ever since, all through the three years, she had been
+regretting it. It was a secret engagement. The untold feeling that had
+prompted it had never been aired, and died very soon for want of earth
+and light. To cold indifference for the man to whom she had promised
+herself, had succeeded an absolute aversion. What was worse, she loved
+another person. Aurelia Seymour loved Frank! This very morning the
+news had reached her that the Kumshan was in from Canton. The
+passengers had arrived last night; she was to meet Gerald at Mrs.
+Jay's this morning.
+
+Frank Leslie seated himself by her. She was in the midst of a calm,
+cool conversation with him, when she saw a little commotion in the
+other corner of the room. Every one was greeting Mr. Lawson on his
+arriving home. He is making his way through the crowd; he comes to
+her, he bows; Aurelia smiles.
+
+But this was not all. He asked her if she would come into the
+conservatory. She had accompanied him there. Half hid by the branches
+of a camellia-tree all covered with white blossoms, she had said
+coldly, "Gerald, I cannot marry you." But Gerald had not received the
+word so coolly. He had burst out into passion. First he had exclaimed
+in wonder, next he could not believe her.
+
+"Would she treat him so ungenerously? Was she a heartless flirt, a
+mere coquette?"
+
+He told over his love that had been growing warmer all these three
+years; of his ambition that was to be crowned by her approval; of his
+lately gained wealth, valued only for her sake. Passionate words they
+were, and full of intense feeling; but hidden by the camellia,
+restrained and kept under from fear of observers. They were frequently
+interrupted, too.
+
+"Thank you--ninety-nine days; very quick passage. Yes, I go back next
+week; no, I stay at home," were, with other sentences, thrown in, as
+answers to the different questions of those who did not know what they
+were interrupting.
+
+But, at last, Aurelia broke away. Broke away! No; she accepted
+Middleton's proposal to go into the coffee-room, and left Gerald
+beneath the camellia.
+
+As I watched her from my loop-holes I could tell that Aurelia was
+going over all this scene in her mind. While her eyes were fixed upon
+the stage, she recalled every word and gesture of Gerald's. Yet, his
+reproaches, his just complaints, hardly weighed upon her now. She was
+looking on the vacant seat beside her, and wondering when Frank would
+come to take it.
+
+But "Lilly," the light-haired one, her thoughts were rushing back to
+the wild, gay polkas of the morning. Now by Aurelia's side, now away
+again; she had danced continually till the last moment, and when they
+came to tell her the carriage was ready, and she must come away, she
+had fainted.
+
+It was as she was going up-stairs into the drawing-room, just before
+she and her sisters made their grand entree, that Lilly had heard that
+"Cousin Joe" had not come home in the vessel with Gerald Lawson. He
+had gone to Europe by the overland route, and wild, mad fellow that he
+was, had determined to join the Russian troops in the Crimea.
+
+"And be shot there for his pains," Frank Leslie added carelessly.
+
+Cousin Joe hadn't come home! He didn't care to come home! He was going
+to be shot!
+
+She could think of nothing else. She could not keep still; she could
+not talk placidly like the rest; she must dance, and dance wildly and
+passionately.
+
+But a moment of reaction came. When the last strain of music had died
+away, all power of self-control had died away, too. No wonder that she
+had fainted! More wonder that she could recover herself; could resist
+her mother's entreaties, after all that dancing, to spare herself and
+stay from the opera.
+
+Here she was, outwardly lively and radiant, chatting with Lieutenant
+Preston, inwardly chafed at all this constraint, and wondering how it
+was Cousin Joe could stay so long away.
+
+By her side sat Annette. It was the report that she had been sent
+south last winter to break up a desperate flirtation she was carrying
+on. However it was, I had always fancied Annette more than either of
+the other sisters. She had apparently less of our northern reserve,
+whether for good or evil, than the rest. She said just what she was
+thinking; danced when she liked; was insolent when she pleased.
+
+To-night she seemed to me fretful. She was angry with Lilly for
+talking with Lieutenant Preston; and, indeed, I must not, in honor,
+reveal all I read in Annette's mind. If I found there her opinion of
+me; if, on the whole, it lowered my opinion of myself, I must take
+refuge in the old proverb, "Eavesdroppers never hear any good of
+themselves."
+
+But there was Angelina; she was the one who "painted in oils," and she
+attracted me more than any of the others. There was about her an
+atmosphere of pleasure, within her an expression of delight, that
+accounted for the really sunny gleam upon her face. Something had made
+all the day happy for her. In the morning she had passed nearly all
+the time in Mrs. Jay's front drawing-room. The fine masterpieces of
+art, brought from Europe, make this apartment a true picture-gallery.
+But Angelina's pleasure, artist though she was, was not taken from the
+figures upon the walls. She walked up and down the room; she lingered
+awhile in one of the deep fauteuils; she paused before the paintings
+with Frank Leslie by her side. As she turned, at the theatre, now and
+then to the vacant seat behind her, next Aurelia's, her anticipation
+was not embittered by anxiety; she knew he would come in time. Oh,
+Frank! you did not tell me _all_ that took place at Mrs. Jay's!
+
+But, from all these observations, my thoughts were turned back to the
+stage by the influence of the little Sophie Seymour. She--about whom
+we knew nothing--she was the only one of the party entirely absorbed
+in the opera. Her eyes fixed upon the stage; her heart wrapt up in
+the intense story that was being enacted; her musical soul throbbing
+with the glorious chords that swelled out; her whole being reflected
+the opera.
+
+So I turned me to the stage. My eyes fell first upon the substitute
+that the illness of Mademoiselle ---- required for the night. Just now
+she was standing on one side, and as she drew her white glove closer,
+_her_ thoughts were going back to the scenes of the day.
+
+Oh! what a little room she lived in! She was sitting in it when the
+message came from the manager to summon her to sing to-night! Her
+brother Franz was copying some music by her side; and now she is
+smiling at the recollection of the conversation that had followed upon
+her accepting the manager's unexpected proposal.
+
+She had hastened to get out her last concert dress. It was new
+once--but oh! would it answer now for the opera?
+
+Those very white kid gloves! They had cost her her dinner.
+
+"Must I have new ones, Franz?" she had asked. "If there were only time
+to have an old pair cleaned--if, indeed, I have any left worth
+cleaning!"
+
+"Never mind," answered Franz, "it is worth twenty dinners to have you
+hear the opera. I have longed so every night to have you there, and to
+have you on the stage! my highest wishes are granted. Oh! Marie, when
+you make a great point, I shall have to take my flute from my mouth
+and cry bravo!"
+
+"Oh, don't speak of the singing. It takes away my breath to think of
+myself upon the stage! How I waste my time over dress and gloves! I
+must practice; I must be ready for the rehearsal."
+
+"My poor Marie! To-day, of all days, to go without dinner."
+
+"Don't think of it! When the manager 'pays up,' oh, then, Franz! we'll
+have dinners. Only part of the money must go to a new concert dress.
+When my last was new, I overheard, as I left the stage, a young girl
+saying, to her sister, I suppose, 'What an elegant dress!' I wanted to
+stop and ask her if she thought it were worth going without meat for a
+month."
+
+And as Marie recalled these words to-night to her mind, I saw her look
+up and smile as she glanced over the house, and contrasted the showy
+dress she wore with the poor home she had left behind.
+
+What a poor home it was, indeed! What a contrast did the gay dress she
+arranged for the evening make with her room's poor adorning. The dress
+she thrust quickly away, and had devoted herself to the study of the
+music for evening. With her brother's assistance, she had prepared
+herself for the rehearsal, and had gone there with him.
+
+The rehearsal was more alarming to her than the thought of the
+evening performance. There were the conductor's criticising eyes
+glaring at her; the unsympathizing glances of some of her stage
+companions--though many of them had come to her with words of kindly
+encouragement; there was the silent, untenanted expanse of the theatre
+before her--none of the excitement of stage scenery, or the brilliancy
+of light and tinsel; and she must force herself to think of her
+part, as a technical study of music, all the time she felt she was
+undergoing a severe criticism from Mademoiselle ----'s friends, who
+were comparing the new-comer's voice with that of their own ally.
+
+But her thoughts were not sad. There was in her a gayety and strength
+of spirit that bore her up. The brilliant scene gave her an excitement
+that helped her to bear the thought of her everyday trials. It had
+been hard to work all day, preparing for the evening--hard for the
+mind and body--and she had lately lived on poor fare, and wanted the
+exercise upon which her physical constitution should support itself.
+At once these troubles were forgotten. Now was to come the duet with
+the prima donna.
+
+No timidity restrained her now. She felt, at the moment, that her own
+voice was of worth only as it harmonized with the leading one. She
+forgot herself when she thought of that wonderful voice, when once she
+found her own mingled in its wonderful tones. Now she was supported by
+it through the whole piece; her own was subdued by it, and at last she
+felt herself inspired by it; it was no longer herself singing; she
+was carried away by the power of another, and lifted above herself.
+
+All applauded the magnificent music and harmony; the _bravo_ of Franz
+was for Marie alone.
+
+At this time my interest was absorbed in my observation of the prima
+donna. I had perceived at first how indifferently she had entered upon
+the spirit of the music. Her companion had filled her mind with the
+meaning of its composer, and was striving to infuse into herself the
+interpretation that the prima donna would give to its glorious
+strains.
+
+But the soul of the prima donna was away. It was in a
+heavily-curtained room, where there were luxury and elegance. Here she
+had all day been watching by the bedside of her sick child. She had
+collected round it everything that money could bring to soothe its
+sufferings. There were flowers in the greatest profusion; these were
+trophies of her last night's success; and on the table by the bedside
+she had heaped up her brilliant, gorgeous jewels, for their varied and
+glowing colors had served to amuse the child for a few minutes. She
+had sung to him music, that crowds would have collected to hear, had
+they been allowed. Only to soothe him, all the golden tones of her
+voice had poured out--now dropping in thrilling, sad melody, now in
+glad, happy, childish strains.
+
+Nothing through the day could put to rest that one appeal, which now
+was echoing in her ears: "Will nothing cool my throat!--my head
+burns!--only a few drops of water!" Over all the tones of the
+orchestra these words sounded and thrilled so in her ears, that only
+mechanically could the prima donna repeat the tones that were
+thrilling all the hearts to which they came.
+
+At last the power of her own voice conquered herself, too. In the
+closing cadences--in those chords, triumphant and faith-bringing--for
+the moment her own sorrows melted away, and the thought of herself was
+lost in the inspiration of the grand, majestic intonations to which
+she was giving utterance. She was no longer a suffering woman; but her
+soul and her voice were sounding beneath the touch of a great
+master-spirit, and giving out a glowing music, compelled by its
+master-power.
+
+What an enthusiasm! what an excitement! As with the opera-singer on
+the stage, so with all the audience; all separate joy and grief, all
+individual passions were swallowed up, and carried away by this
+all-absorbing inspiration, and lost in its mighty whirl.
+
+For me, now, there was but one character to follow. How grandly the
+stage-heroine went through her part! As if to crush all other emotion,
+she flung herself into the character she was portraying, and went
+through it wildly and passionately.
+
+She overshadowed her little rival--for Marie was her rival, according
+to the plot of the opera--now threatening, now protecting her, as she
+was led on by the spirit of the play. Marie shrunk before her, or was
+inspired by her; and her delicate, entreating figure helped the
+pathos of her voice. Marie, by this time, had utterly lost herself in
+her admiration of the great genius who was so impressing her. She gave
+out her own voice as an offering to this great power. For its sake she
+would have found it impossible to make any mistake in her own singing,
+or do anything with her own voice, but just place it at the service of
+her companion, as a foil to her grand and glorious one.
+
+When in the play the heroine gave up--as she does in the play--her own
+life for the sake of her rival, the act became more magnanimous and
+wondrous as being performed for this little delicate Marie, who shrank
+from so great a sacrifice.
+
+The prima donna gained all the applause. Indeed, it was right--for it
+was her power that had called out all that was great in her delicate
+rival. It was she who had inspired her, and made her forget herself
+and everything but the notes she must give out, true and pure.
+
+They were both called before the stage after the grand closing scene;
+or rather the prima donna drew forward the retiring Marie. Shouts and
+peals of enthusiasm greeted the queen of song. But her moment of
+exaltation had passed away. Over and over again she was repeating to
+herself, "Will they never let me go home? Perhaps he is dying now--he
+wants me--I am too late!"
+
+She was at the summit of her greatness; but oh! it was painful to
+see her there--to see how she would have hushed all those wild,
+enthusiastic shouts for the sake of one fresh childish tone; how she
+would have exchanged all those bursts of passion to make sure of a
+healthy throb in that child's pulse. All this enthusiasm was not new
+to her. It was part of her existence. It was a restraint upon her now,
+but she could not have done without it. It was the excitement which
+would serve to sustain her through another night of watching.
+
+Marie, too, was giving her meed of praise, as she followed her across
+the stage. She did not think of taking to herself one shout of the
+enthusiasm, any more than she would have thought of appropriating one
+flower from the bouquets which were showered before her. There was,
+indeed, one share of the plaudits which belonged to her entirely. This
+came from Franz--for I recognized him by his unruly stamping, and
+unrestrained applause. His thoughts were only for Marie; he was filled
+with pride at the manner in which she bore herself--at her simple
+carriage, and modest demeanor. His praise was all for Marie. The
+famous opera-singer, whom he had heard night after night, was
+forgotten, in his pride for his little sister.
+
+I sank back into my niche. Varied figures floated before me, and
+bewildered me.
+
+I have often looked at spiders with deep interest. It is said that
+their eyes are made up of many faces. What a bewildering world, then,
+is presented to their view! It is no wonder that, as I have seen them,
+they have appeared so irresolute in their motions, darting here and
+there. A world of so many faces stand around the spider, towards which
+shall he turn his attention? He lives, as it were, in the middle of a
+kaleidoscope, where many figures are repeated, and form one great
+figure, and each separate section is like its neighbor. Which of these
+varied yet too similar pictures shall he choose?
+
+At least this is my idea of the sensations of a spider; but I am not
+enough of a naturalist to say that it is correct. How is it? When a
+fly enters that web, which is divided into a symmetry similar to that
+of the faces of a spider's eye, does mine host, the spider, see
+twenty-five thousand similar flies approaching, his organ of vision
+standing as the centre? What a cosmorama there is before him! What a
+luxurious repast might not his imagination offer him, if his memory
+did not recall the plain truth that dull reality has so often
+disclosed to him! We cannot wonder that the spider should lead,
+apparently, so solitary a life, since his eyes have the power of
+producing a whole ball-room from the form of one lady visitor. Not
+one, but twenty-five thousand Robert Bruces inspired the Scottish
+spider to that homely instance of perseverance, which served for an
+example for a king. As he hangs his drapery from one cornice to
+another, the prismatic scenes that come before him serve to lengthen
+that life which might seem to be cut off before its time. It is not
+one, but twenty-five thousand brooms which advance to destroy his
+airy home; to invade his household gods, and bring to the ground
+that row of bluebottles which his magnifying power of vision has
+transformed from one to twenty-five thousand! nay, more, perhaps!
+
+Out in the air, as he swings his delicate cordage from one tree to
+another, he does not need to wear a gorgeous plumage; this old dusty
+coat and uncomely figure, that make a child shrink and cry out, these
+may well be forgotten by him who looks into life through prismatic
+glasses. Every drop of rain wears for him its Iris drapery; the dew on
+the flowers becomes a jewelled circlet; and the dazzling pictures
+brought by the sunbeams outshine and transform for him his own dusky
+garment.
+
+I thought of my friend, the spider, as into my web of thought came
+such numerous images. They were not alike in form--and so were more
+distracting. More than I can mention or number had visited me there;
+had excited my interest for a moment, and been crowded out by another
+new image. Yes, it was like looking into a kaleidoscope where there
+were infinite repetitions. In all were the same master-colors and
+forms. All were swayed by passions that made an under-current beneath
+a great outward calm. All were wearing an outward form that strove
+each to resemble the other; not to appear strange or odd. So they
+flitted before me, coming into shape, and departing from it as they
+came within and left my reach.
+
+I only roused myself to see the various characters, that had
+presented themselves on the stage of my mind, return again into their
+everyday costumes. They passed out of the focus of my observation into
+their several forms in which they walk through common life. Putting on
+their opera-cloaks, their paletots, they put on, for me, that mark
+that hides the inner life, and the veil that conceals all hidden
+passions.
+
+It is said that there is, no longer, romance in real life. But the
+truth is that we live the romance that former ages told and sang. The
+magic carpet of the Arabian tales, the mirror that brought to view
+most distant objects, have come out of poetry, and present themselves
+in the prosaic form of steam locomotive and the electric telegraph.
+
+Nowadays, everybody has travelled to some distant land, has seen, with
+everybody's eyes, the charmed isles and lotos shores that used to be
+only in books. In this lively, changing age everybody is living his
+own romance. And this is why the romance of story grows pale and is
+thrown aside. A domestic sketch of everyday life, of outward calm and
+simplicity, soothes the unrest of active life, and charms more than
+three volumes of wild incident that cannot equal the excitement that
+every reader is enacting in his own drama.
+
+There were as many romances in life around me, that night, as there
+were persons in the theatre. I had not merely learned that the
+cold Aurelia was passionately in love, that the gay Lilly was
+broken-hearted, that the frank Annette was silly, and Angelina and
+Frank engaged before it was out. Beside all this, I had learned the
+trials and joys of many others whom I know only in this way; and I
+left the theatre the last, as I had come in the first.
+
+The next morning I returned to business affairs again. It was a
+particularly pressing morning. The steamer was in. I had not even time
+to think of my last night's experiences. Only at the corner of a
+street I met an acquaintance, whose smiling face amazed me. I knew
+that all last evening his mind had been preoccupied with the truly
+critical state of his affairs, and I was at a loss how to greet him.
+He hurried away from my embarrassment. I had more than one of these
+encounters; but it was not till the labors of the day were over that I
+understood how my knowledge of mankind had been lately increased. I
+went, in the evening, to a small party where I knew I should meet the
+Seymours. I fell in there with Aurelia first. She was as cold and as
+stately as ever. I entered into conversation with her, feeling that I
+could touch the key-note of her life. But no; she was as chilling
+to me as ever; nothing warmed her--nothing elicited from her the
+slightest spark. Sometimes she looked at me a little wonderingly, as
+if I were talking in some style unusual to me; as if my remarks were,
+in a manner, impertinent; but, in the end, I left her to her icy
+coldness.
+
+As for Lilly, she appeared to the world, in general, as gay as ever.
+I fancied I detected a slight listlessness as she accompanied her
+partner into the dancing-room for the sixth polka. It was no great
+help with me in talking to Annette, that I knew she was a fool. I won
+no thanks from Frank or Angelina when I manoeuvred that they should
+have a little flirtation in the library. For some reason they were
+determined that their engagement should not be apparent, and I was
+reproached afterwards by Frank for my clumsiness, and received, in
+return, no confidences to make up for the reproach.
+
+On the whole I passed a disagreeable evening. I had a feeling all the
+time that I was in the presence of smothered volcanoes, and a
+consciousness that I had the advantage of the rest of the world in
+knowing all its secret history. This became, at last, almost
+insupportable.
+
+There was no opera this night. The next day it was announced that
+Mademoiselle ---- would take her accustomed place in the performance.
+I went early to the theatre, and found, to my amazement, there had
+been some changes made in the orchestra; the prompter's box had been
+enlarged, and my newly-discovered niche had been rendered inaccessible
+and almost entirely filled in! In vain did I attempt to find some
+other position that might correspond to it. I only attracted the
+attention of the early comers to the theatre. I was obliged to return
+to my old position of an outside observer of life, and see, quite
+unoccupied, that centre of all observation which I had enjoyed myself
+so much two nights before; over which the leader of the orchestra was
+unconsciously waving his baton.
+
+I made some inquiries for Marie. One day I went down the quiet,
+secluded street, where they told me she lived. I walked up and down
+before the house. It was very tantalizing to feel that I had no excuse
+for approaching her. Of all the figures that had assembled around me
+that night, hers had remained the most distinct upon my memory. For,
+through the whole, she had retained an outward bearing which had
+corresponded with what I could see of her inward self. Even when she
+threw herself most earnestly into her part, she had scarcely seemed to
+lose herself. She had always remained a simple, self-devoted girl.
+
+I longed to see more of her. I wanted to see her in that quiet home.
+While I was wandering up and down, I abused the forms of society which
+would make my beginning an acquaintance with her so difficult. I saw
+Franz, brother Franz, the flute-player, leave the house. Scarcely
+conscious of what I was doing, I went, as soon as he had left the
+street, to the door which was open to all comers; to the house which
+contained more than one family. I made my way up stairs and knocked at
+a door to which Franz's card was attached.
+
+It was opened by Marie. She stood before me with a handkerchief tied
+over her head, and a broom in her hand, but she looked, to me, as
+beautiful as she had done behind the glare of the foot-lights. Her
+simplicity was here even more fascinating.
+
+She held the door partly open, while I, to recover myself, asked for
+Franz. She told me he was gone out, but would return soon, if I would
+wait for him. I was never less anxious to see any person than then to
+see Franz, but I could not resist entering the room, and this, in
+spite of the apologetic air of Marie. The room looked as neat as I had
+imagined it, seeing it from the mirror of Marie's mind. I should say
+it scarcely needed that broom which still remained expectantly in
+Marie's hand. A piano, spider-legged, in the number and thinness of
+these supports, stood at one side of the room, weighed down with
+classic-looking music. A bouquet, that had been given by the hand of
+the prima donna to Marie, stood upon the piano.
+
+Otherwise it was a common enough looking room. Some remark being
+necessary, I inquired of Franz's health, and hoped he was not wearing
+himself out with hard work; I had seen him regularly at the opera.
+Marie encouraged me with regard to her brother's health, and still,
+the opera even did not serve to open a conversation with Marie.
+
+Then, indeed, did I wish that I was the hero of a novel. I might have
+told her I was writing an opera, and have asked her to study for
+its heroine. I might have retired, and sent her, directly and
+mysteriously, a grand piano of the very grandest scale. Or, I might
+have asked her to sit down to that old-fashioned instrument, and have
+asked her to let me hear her sing, for my nieces were in need of a new
+teacher. I might have engaged Franz, with promise of a high salary, to
+write me the music of songs, or a new sonata. But I had neither the
+salary nor the nieces. I had not even an excuse for standing there. It
+was very foolish of me, but I could not help feeling that it was
+exceedingly impertinent of me to be there.
+
+Instead of informing Marie that I was intimately acquainted with her,
+that I had shared every emotion of her soul, on the exciting opera
+night, I stated that I could call again upon brother Franz. I
+regretted, at the same time, that I had not my card, and left the room
+with a courteous bow of dismissal from Marie.
+
+I have walked that way very often. Once or twice I have seen Marie at
+the window, when she has not seen me. But I have not attempted to
+visit her again. Of what use is it for me, then, to have such a
+knowledge of her, when she does not have a similar one sympathetic
+with me? She has not sung in public of late, and I do not know the
+reason why she has not.
+
+My friends are fond of asking me why I, every night, sit in a
+different place at the theatre; and why I have such a fancy for a seat
+in the midst of the trumpets of the orchestra, and directly under the
+leader. I am striving to make new acoustic discoveries.
+
+But I dare not state in what theatre it is that my point of
+observation can be found, nor ask of the management to make an
+alteration in the position of the orchestra, lest some night I should
+be observed, and expose all the secrets of my breast to a less
+confidential observer.
+
+
+
+
+A STORY OF THE LATIN QUARTER.
+
+BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT.
+
+_Scribner's Monthly, May, 1879._
+
+
+"He is one of the Americans," his fellow _locataires_ said among
+themselves. "Poor and alone and in bad health. A queer fellow."
+
+Having made this reply to those who questioned them, they were in the
+habit of dismissing the subject lightly. After all, it was nothing to
+them, since he had never joined their circle.
+
+They were a gay, good-natured lot, and made a point of regarding life
+as airily as possible, and taking each day as it came with fantastic
+good cheer. The house--which stood in one of the shabbiest corners of
+the Latin Quarter--was full of them from floor to garret--artists,
+students, models, French, English, Americans, living all of them
+merrily, by no means the most regular of lives. But there were good
+friends among them; their world was their own, and they found plenty
+of sympathy in their loves and quarrels, their luck and ill-luck.
+Upon the whole there was more ill-luck than luck. Lucky men did not
+choose for their head-quarters such places as this rather dilapidated
+building,--they could afford to go elsewhere, to places where the
+Quarter was better, where the stairs were less rickety, the passages
+less dark, and the _concierge_ not given to chronic intoxication. Here
+came the unlucky ones, whose ill-luck was of various orders and
+degrees: the young ones who were some day to paint pictures which
+would be seen in the Palais de l'Industrie and would be greeted with
+acclamations by an appreciative public; the older ones who had painted
+pictures which had been seen at the Palais de l'Industrie and had not
+been appreciated at all; the poets whose sonnets were of too subtle an
+order to reach the common herd; the students who had lived beyond the
+means allowed them by their highly respectable families, and who were
+consequently somewhat off color in the eyes of the respectable
+families in question--these and others of the same class, all more or
+less poor, more or less out at elbows, and more or less in debt. And
+yet, as I have said, they lived gayly. They painted, and admired or
+criticised each other's pictures; they lent and borrowed with equal
+freedom; they bemoaned their wrongs loudly, and sang and laughed more
+loudly still as the mood seized them; and any special ill-fortune
+befalling one of their number generally aroused a display of sympathy
+which, though it might not last long, was always a source of
+consolation to the luckless one.
+
+But the American, notwithstanding he had been in the house for months,
+had never become one of them. He had been seen in the early spring
+going up the stairway to his room, which was a mere garret on the
+sixth story, and it had been expected among them that in a day or
+so he would present himself for inspection. But this he did not do,
+and when he encountered any of their number in his out-goings or
+in-comings he returned their greetings gently in imperfect French. He
+spoke slowly and with difficulty, but there was no coldness in his
+voice or manners, and yet none got much further than the greeting.
+
+He was a young fellow, scarcely of middle height, frail in figure,
+hollow-chested, and with a gentle face and soft, deeply set dark eyes.
+That he worked hard and lived barely it was easy enough to discover.
+Part of each day he spent in the various art galleries, and after his
+return from these visits he was seen no more until the following
+morning.
+
+"Until the last ray of light disappears he is at his easel," said a
+young student whom a gay escapade had temporarily banished to the
+fifth floor. "I hear him move now and then and cough. He has a
+villainous cough."
+
+"He is one of the enthusiasts," said another. "One can read it in his
+face. What fools they are--these enthusiasts! They throw away life
+that a crown of laurel may be laid upon their coffins."
+
+In the summer some of them managed to leave Paris, and the rest had
+enough to do to organize their little excursions and make the best
+of the sunshine, shade and warmth. But when those who had been
+away returned and all settled down for the winter, they found the
+"American" as they called him, in his old place. He had not been away
+at all; he had worked as hard as ever through midsummer heat and
+autumn rain; he was frailer in figure, his clothes were more worn,
+his face was thinner and his eyes far too hollow and bright, but he
+did not look either discouraged or unhappy.
+
+"How does he live?" exclaimed the _concierge_ dramatically. "The good
+God knows! He eats nothing, he has no fire, he wears the clothing of
+midsummer--he paints--he paints--he paints! Perhaps that is enough for
+him. It would not be for me."
+
+At this time--just as the winter entered with bleak winds and rains
+and falls of powdery snow--there presented herself among them an
+arrival whose appearance created a sensation.
+
+One night on his way up-stairs, the American found himself confronted
+on the fourth floor by a flood of light streaming through the open
+door of a before unoccupied room. It was a small room, meagerly
+furnished, but there was a fire in it and half a dozen people who
+laughed and talked at the top of their voices. Five of them were men
+he had seen before,--artists who lived in the house,--but the sixth
+was a woman whom he had never seen and whose marvellous beauty held
+him spell-bound where he stood.
+
+She was a woman of twenty-two or three, with an oval face whose
+fairness was the fairness of ivory. She was dark-eyed and low-browed,
+and as she leaned forward upon the table and looked up at the man who
+spoke to her, even the bright glow of the lamp, which burned directly
+before her face, showed no flaw in either tint or outline.
+
+"Why should we ask the reason of your return?" said the man. "Let us
+rejoice that you are here."
+
+"I will tell you the reason," she answered, without lowering her eyes.
+"I was tired."
+
+"A good reason," was the reply.
+
+She pushed her chair back and stood upright; her hands hung at her
+side; the men were all looking at her; she smiled down at them with
+fine irony.
+
+"Who among you wishes to paint me?" she said. "I am again at your
+service, and I am not less handsome than I was."
+
+Then there arose among them a little rapturous murmur, and somehow it
+broke the spell which had rested upon the man outside. He started,
+shivered slightly and turned away. He went up to the bare coldness of
+his own room and sat down, forgetting that it was either cold or bare.
+Suddenly, as he had looked at the woman's upturned face, a great
+longing had seized upon him.
+
+"I should like to paint you--I," he found himself saying to the
+silence about him. "If I might paint you!"
+
+He heard the next day who she was. The _concierge_ was ready enough to
+give him more information than he had asked.
+
+"Mademoiselle Natalie, Monsieur means," he said; "a handsome girl
+that; a celebrated model. They all know her. Her face has been the
+foundation of more than one great picture. There are not many like
+her. One model has this beauty--another that; but she, _mon Dieu_, she
+has all. A great creature, Mademoiselle."
+
+Afterward, as the days went by, he found that she sat often to the
+other artists. Sometimes he saw her as she went to their rooms or came
+away; sometimes he caught a glimpse of her as he passed her open door,
+and each time there stirred afresh within him the longing he had felt
+at first. So it came about that one afternoon, as she came out of a
+studio in which she had been giving a sitting, she found waiting
+outside for her the thinly clad, frail figure of the American. He made
+an eager yet hesitant step forward, and began to speak awkwardly in
+French.
+
+She stopped him.
+
+"Speak English," she said, "I know it well."
+
+"Thank you," he answered simply, "that is a great relief. My French is
+so bad. I am here to ask a great favor from you, and I am sure I could
+not ask it well in French."
+
+"What is the favor?" she inquired, looking at him with some wonder.
+
+He was a new type to her, with his quiet directness of speech and his
+gentle manner.
+
+"I have heard that you are a professional model," he replied, "and I
+have wished very much to paint what--what I see in your face. I have
+wished it from the first hour I saw you. The desire haunts me. But I
+am a very poor man; I have almost nothing; I cannot pay you what the
+rest do. To-day I came to the desperate resolve that I would throw
+myself upon your mercy--that I would ask you to sit to me, and wait
+until better fortune comes."
+
+She stood still a moment and gazed at him.
+
+"Monsieur," she said at length, "are you so poor as that?"
+
+He colored a little, but it was not as if with shame.
+
+"Yes," he answered, "I am very poor. I have asked a great deal of you,
+have I not?"
+
+She gave him still another long look.
+
+"No," she said, "I will come to you to-morrow, if you will direct me
+to your room."
+
+"It is on the sixth floor," he replied; "the highest of all. It is a
+bare little place."
+
+"I will come," she said, and was turning away when he stopped her.
+
+"I--I should like to tell you how grateful I am--" he began.
+
+"There is no need," she responded with bitter lightness. "You will pay
+me some day--when you are a great artist." But when she reached the
+next landing she glanced down and saw that he still stood beneath
+watching her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next day she kept her word and went to him. She found his room
+poorer and barer even than she had fancied it might be. The ceiling
+was low and slanting; in one corner stood a narrow iron bedstead, in
+another a wooden table; in the best light the small window gave his
+easel was placed with a chair before it.
+
+When he had opened the door in answer to her summons, and she saw all
+this, she glanced quickly at his face to see if there was any shade of
+confusion upon it, but there was none. He appeared only rejoiced and
+eager.
+
+"I felt sure it was you," he said.
+
+"Were you then so sure that I would come?" she asked.
+
+"You said you would," he answered. He placed her as he wished to paint
+her, and then sat down to his work. In a few moments he was completely
+absorbed in it. For a long time he did not speak at all. The utter
+silence which reigned--a silence which was not only a suspension of
+speech but a suspension of any other thought beyond his task--was a
+new experience to her. His cheek flushed, his eyes burned dark and
+bright; it seemed as if he scarcely breathed. When he turned to look
+at her she was conscious each time of a sudden thrill of feeling. More
+than once he paused for several moments, brush and palette in hand,
+simply watching her face. At one of these pauses she herself broke
+the silence.
+
+"Why do you look at me so?" she asked. "You look at me as if--as if--"
+And she broke off with an uneasy little laugh.
+
+He roused himself with a slight start and colored sensitively, passing
+his hand across his forehead.
+
+"What I want to paint is not always in your face," he answered.
+"Sometimes I lose it, and then I must wait a little until--until
+I find it again. It is not only your face I want, it is
+yourself--yourself!" And he made a sudden unconscious gesture with
+his hands.
+
+She tried to laugh again,--hard and lightly as before,--but failed.
+
+"Myself!" she said. "_Mon Dieu!_ Do not grasp at me, Monsieur. It will
+not pay you. Paint my flesh, my hair, my eyes,--they are good,--but do
+not paint _me_."
+
+He looked troubled.
+
+"I am afraid my saying that sounded stilted," he returned. "I
+explained myself poorly. It is not easy for me to explain myself
+well."
+
+"I understood," she said; "and I have warned you."
+
+They did not speak to each other again during the whole sitting except
+once, when he asked her if she was warm enough.
+
+"I have a fire to-day," he said.
+
+"Have you not always a fire?" she asked.
+
+"No," he answered with a smile; "but when you come here there will
+always be one."
+
+"Then," she said, "I will come often, that I may save you from death."
+
+"Oh!" he replied, "it is easier than you think to forget that one is
+cold."
+
+"Yes," she returned. "And it is easier than you think for one to die."
+
+When she was going away, she made a movement toward the easel, but he
+stopped her.
+
+"Not yet," he said. "Not just yet."
+
+She drew back.
+
+"I have never cared to look at myself before," she said. "I do not
+know why I should care now. Perhaps," with the laugh again, "it is
+that I wish to see what you will make of _me_!"
+
+Afterward, as she sat over her little porcelain stove in her room
+below, she scarcely comprehended her own mood.
+
+"He is not like the rest," she said. "He knows nothing of the world.
+He is one of the good. He cares only for his art. How simple, and
+kind, and pure! The little room is like a saint's cell." And then,
+suddenly, she flung her arms out wearily, with a heavy sigh. "Ah,
+_Dieu_!" she said, "how dull the day is! The skies are lead!"
+
+A few days later she gave a sitting to an old artist whose name was
+Masson, and she found that he had heard of what had happened.
+
+"And so you sit to the American," he said.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well--and you find him--?"
+
+"I find him," she repeated after him. "Shall I tell you what I find
+him?"
+
+"I shall listen with delight."
+
+"I find him--a soul! You and I, my friend--and the rest of us--are
+bodies; he is a soul!"
+
+The artist began to whistle softly as he painted.
+
+"It is dangerous work," he said at length, "for women to play with
+souls."
+
+"That is true," she answered, coldly.
+
+The same day she went again to the room on the sixth floor. She again
+sat through an hour of silence in which the American painted eagerly,
+now and then stopping to regard her with searching eyes.
+
+"But not as the rest regard me," she said to herself. "He forgets that
+it is a woman who sits here. He sees only what he would paint."
+
+As time went by, this fact, which she always felt, was in itself a
+fascination.
+
+In the chill, calm atmosphere of the place there was repose for her.
+She found nothing to resent, nothing to steel herself against, she
+need no longer think of herself at all. She had time to think of the
+man in whose presence she sat. From the first she had seen something
+touching in his slight stooping figure, thin young face and dark
+womanish eyes, and after she had heard the simple uneventful history
+of his life, she found them more touching still.
+
+He was a New Englander, the last surviving representative of a frail
+and short-lived family. His parents had died young, leaving him quite
+alone, with a mere pittance to depend upon, and throughout his whole
+life he had cherished but one aim.
+
+"When I was a child I used to dream of coming here," he said, "and as
+I grew older I worked and struggled for it. I knew I must gain my end
+some day, and the time came when it was gained."
+
+"And this is the end?" she asked, glancing round at the poor place.
+"This is all of life you desire?"
+
+He did not look up at her.
+
+"It is all I have," he answered.
+
+She wondered if he would not ask her some questions regarding herself,
+but he did not.
+
+"He does not care to know," she thought sullenly. And then she told
+herself that he did know, and a mocking devil of a smile settled on
+her lip and was there when he turned toward her again.
+
+But the time never came when his manner altered, when he was less
+candid and gentle, or less grateful for the favor she was bestowing
+upon him.
+
+She scarcely knew how it was that she first began to know the sound of
+his foot upon the stairway and to listen for it. Her earliest
+consciousness of it was when once she awakened suddenly out of a dead
+sleep at night and found herself sitting upright with her hand upon
+her heavily throbbing heart.
+
+"What is it?" she cried in a loud whisper. But she spoke only to
+herself and the darkness. She knew what it was and did not lie down
+again until the footsteps had reached the top of the last flight and
+the door above had opened and closed.
+
+The time arrived when there was scarcely a trifling incident in his
+everyday life which escaped her. She saw each sign of his poverty and
+physical weakness. He grew paler day by day. There were days when his
+step flagged as he went up and down the staircase; some mornings he
+did not go out at all. She discovered that each Sunday he went twice
+to the little American chapel in the Rue de Berri, and she had seen in
+his room a small Protestant Bible.
+
+"You read that?" she asked him when she first saw it.
+
+"Yes."
+
+She leaned forward, her look curious, bewildered, even awed.
+
+"And you believe in--God?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+She resumed her former position, but she did not remove her eyes from
+his face, and unconsciously she put her hand up to her swelling
+throat.
+
+When at length the sitting was over and she left her chair he was
+standing before the easel. He turned to her and spoke hesitantly.
+
+"Will you come and look at it?" he asked.
+
+She went and stood where he bade her, and looked. He watched her
+anxiously while she did so. For the first moment there was amazement
+in her face, then some mysterious emotion he could not comprehend--a
+dull red crept slowly over brow and cheek.
+
+She turned upon him.
+
+"Monsieur!" she cried, passionately. "You mock me! It is a bad
+picture."
+
+He fell back a pace, staring at her and suddenly trembling with the
+shock.
+
+"A bad picture!" he echoed. "_I_ mock you--_I?_"
+
+"It is my face," she said, pointing to it, "but you have made it what
+_I_ am not! It is the face of a good woman--of a woman who might be a
+saint! Does not _that_ mock me?"
+
+He turned to it with a troubled, dreamy look.
+
+"It is what I have seen in your face," he said in a soft, absent
+voice. "It is a truth to me. It is what _I_ have seen."
+
+"It is what no other has seen," she said. "I tell you it mocks me."
+
+"It need not mock you," he answered. "I could not have painted it if I
+had not felt it. It is yourself--yourself."
+
+"Myself?" she said. "Do you think, Monsieur, that the men who have
+painted me before would know it?"
+
+She gave it another glance and a shrill laugh burst from her, but the
+next instant it broke off and ended in another sound. She fell upon
+her knees by the empty chair, her open hands flung outward, her sobs
+strangling her.
+
+He stood quite near her, looking down.
+
+"I have not thought of anything but my work," he said. "Why should I?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The following Sunday night the artist Masson met in going down-stairs
+a closely veiled figure coming up. He knew it and spoke.
+
+"What, Natalie?" he said. "You? One might fancy you had been to
+church."
+
+"I have been," she returned in a cold voice,--"to the church of the
+Americans in the Rue de Berri."
+
+He shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Has it done you good?" he asked.
+
+"No," she answered, and walked past him, leaving him to look after her
+and think the matter over.
+
+She went to her own apartment and locked herself in. Having done so,
+she lighted every candle and lamp--flooding the place with a garish
+mockery of brightness. She sang as she did it--a gay, shrill air from
+some _opera bouffe_. She tore off her dark veil and wrappings. Her
+eyes and cheeks flamed as if touched by some unholy fire. She moved
+with feverish rapidity here and there--dragging a rich dress from a
+trunk, and jewels and laces from their places of safe keeping, and
+began to attire herself in them. The simple black robe she had worn to
+the chapel lay on the floor. As she moved to and fro she set her feet
+upon it again and again, and as she felt it beneath her tread a harsh
+smile touched her lips.
+
+"I shall not wear you again," she stopped her song once to say.
+
+In half an hour she had made her toilette. She stood before her glass,
+a blaze of color and jewels. For a moment she sang no more. From one
+of the rooms below there floated up to her sounds of riotous
+merriment.
+
+"_This_ is myself," she said; "_this_ is no other."
+
+She opened her door and ran down the staircase swiftly and lightly.
+The founder of the feast whose sounds she had heard was a foolish
+young fellow who adored her madly. He was rich, and wicked, and
+simple. Because he had heard of her return he had taken an apartment
+in the house. She heard his voice above the voices of the rest.
+
+In a moment she had flung open the door of the _salon_ and stood upon
+the threshold.
+
+At sight of her there arose a rapturous shout of delight.
+
+"Natalie! Natalie! Welcome!"
+
+But instantaneously it died away. One second she stood there,
+brilliant, smiling, defiant. The next, they saw that a mysterious
+change had seized upon her. She had become deathly white, and was
+waving them from her with a wild gesture.
+
+"I am not coming," she cried, breathlessly. "No! No! No!"
+
+And the next instant they could only gaze at each others'
+terror-stricken faces, at the place she had left vacant,--for she was
+gone.
+
+She went up the stairs blindly and uncertainly. When she reached the
+turn of the fourth floor where the staircase was bare and unlighted,
+she staggered and sank against the balustrades, her face upturned.
+
+"I cannot go back," she whispered to the darkness and silence above.
+"Do you hear? I cannot! And it is you--you who restrain me!"
+
+But there were no traces of her passion in her face when she went to
+the little studio the next day as usual. When the artist opened the
+door for her, it struck him that she was calm even to coldness.
+
+Instead of sitting down, she went to the easel and stood before it.
+
+"Monsieur," she said, "I have discovered where your mistake lies. You
+have tried to paint what you fancied must once have existed, though it
+exists no longer. That is your mistake. It has never existed at all. I
+remember no youth, no childhood. Life began for me as it will end. It
+was my fate that it should. I was born in the lowest quarter of Paris.
+I knew only poverty, brutality, and crime. My beauty simply raised me
+beyond their power. Where should I gain what you have insisted in
+bestowing upon me?"
+
+He simply stood still and looked at her.
+
+"God knows!" he answered at length. "I do not."
+
+"God!" she returned with her bitter little laugh. "Yes--God!"
+
+Then she went to her place, and said no more.
+
+But the next Sunday she was at the American chapel again, and the
+next, and the next. She could scarcely have told why herself. She did
+not believe the doctrines she heard preached, and she did not expect
+to be converted to belief in them. Often, as the service proceeded, a
+faint smile of derision curved her lips; but from her seat in the
+obscure corner she had chosen she could see a thin, dark face and a
+stooping figure, and could lean back against the wall with a sense of
+repose.
+
+"It is quiet here," was her thought. "One can be quiet, and that is
+much."
+
+"What is the matter with her?" the men who knew her began to ask one
+another. But it was not easy for them to discover how the subtle
+change they saw had been wrought. They were used to her caprices and
+to occasional fits of sullenness, but they had never seen her in just
+such a mood as she was now. She would bear no jests from them, she
+would not join in their gayeties. Sometimes for days together she shut
+herself up in her room, and they did not see her at all.
+
+The picture progressed but slowly. Sometimes the artist's hand so
+trembled with weakness that he could not proceed with his work. More
+than once Natalie saw the brush suddenly fall from his nerveless
+fingers. He was very weak in these days, and the spot of hectic red
+glowed brightly on his cheek.
+
+"I am a poor fellow at best," he would say to her, "and now I am at my
+worst. I am afraid I shall be obliged to rest sooner than I fancied. I
+wish first I could have finished my work. I must not leave it
+unfinished."
+
+One morning when he had been obliged to give up painting, through a
+sudden fit of prostration, on following her to the door, he took her
+hand and held it a moment.
+
+"I was awake all last night," he said. "Yesterday I saw a poor fellow
+who had fallen ill on the street, carried into the Hotel Dieu, and the
+memory clung to me. I began to imagine how it would be if such a thing
+happened to me--what I should say when they asked for my friends,--how
+there would be none to send for. And at last, suddenly I thought of
+you. I said to myself, 'I would send for her, and I think she would
+come.'"
+
+"Yes, Monsieur," she answered. "You might depend upon my coming."
+
+"I am used to being alone," he went on; "but it seemed to me as I lay
+in the dark thinking it over, that to die alone would be a different
+matter. One would want some familiar face to look at--"
+
+"Monsieur!" she burst forth. "You speak as if Death were always near
+you!"
+
+"Do I?" he said. And he was silent for a few seconds, and looked down
+at her hand as he held it. Then he dropped it gently with a little
+sigh. "Good-bye," he said, and so they parted.
+
+In the afternoon she sat to Masson.
+
+"How much longer," he said to her in the course of the sitting,--"how
+much longer does he mean to live--this American? He has lasted
+astonishingly. They are wonderful fellows, these weaklings who burn
+themselves out. One might fancy that the flame which finally destroys
+them, also kept them alive."
+
+"Do you then think that he is so very ill?" she asked in a low voice.
+
+"He will go out," he answered, "like a candle. Shall I tell you a
+secret?"
+
+She made a gesture of assent.
+
+"He starves! The _concierge_ who has watched him says he does not buy
+food enough to keep body and soul together. But how is one to offer
+him anything? It is easy to see that he would not take it."
+
+There was a moment of silence, in which he went on painting.
+
+"The trouble is," he said at last, "that a man would not know how to
+approach him. It is only women who can do these things."
+
+Until the sitting was over neither the one nor the other spoke again.
+When it was over and Natalie was on the point of leaving the room,
+Masson looked at her critically.
+
+"You are pale," he remarked. "You are like a ghost."
+
+"Is it not becoming?" she asked.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then why complain?"
+
+She went to her own room and spent half an hour in collecting every
+valuable she owned. They were not many; she had always been recklessly
+improvident. She put together in a package her few jewels, and even
+the laces she considered worth the most. Then she went out, and,
+taking a _fiacre_ at the nearest corner, drove away.
+
+She was absent two hours, and when she returned she stopped at the
+entrance, intending to ask the _concierge_ a question. But the man
+himself spoke first. He was evidently greatly disturbed and not a
+little alarmed.
+
+"Mademoiselle," he began, "the young man on the sixth floor--"
+
+"What of him?" she demanded.
+
+"He desires to see you. He went out in spite of my warnings. Figure to
+yourself on such a day, in such a state of health. He returned almost
+immediately, wearing the look of Death itself. He sank upon the first
+step of the staircase. When I rushed to his assistance he held to his
+lips a handkerchief stained with blood! We were compelled to carry him
+up-stairs."
+
+She stood a moment, feeling her throat and lips suddenly become dry
+and parched.
+
+"And he asked--for me?" she said at last.
+
+"When he would speak, Mademoiselle--yes. We do not know why. He said,
+in a very faint voice, 'She said she would come.'"
+
+She went up the staircase slowly and mechanically, as one who moves
+in a dream. And yet when she reached the door of the studio she was
+obliged to wait for a few seconds before opening it. When she did
+open it she saw the attic seemed even more cold and bare than usual;
+that there was no fire; that the American lay upon the bed, his
+eyes closed, the hectic spots faded from his cheeks. But when she
+approached and stood near him, he opened his eyes and looked at her
+with a faint smile.
+
+"If--I play you--the poor trick of--dying," he said, "you will
+remember--that the picture--if you care for it--is yours."
+
+After a while, the doctor, who had been sent for, arrived. Perhaps he
+had been in no great hurry when he had heard that his services were
+required by an artist who lay in a garret in the Latin Quarter. His
+visit was a short one. He asked a few questions, wrote a prescription,
+and went away. He looked at Natalie oftener than at the sick man. She
+followed him out on to the landing, and then he regarded her with
+greater interest than before.
+
+"He is very ill?" she said.
+
+"Yes," he answered. "He will die, of course, sooner or later."
+
+"You speak calmly, Monsieur," she said.
+
+"Such cases are an old story," he replied. "And--you are not his
+wife?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I thought not. Nevertheless, perhaps you will remain with him
+until--"
+
+"As Monsieur says," she returned, "I will remain with him 'until--'"
+
+When the sick man awoke from the sleep into which he had fallen, a
+fire burned in the stove and a woman's figure was seated before it.
+
+"You are here yet?" he said faintly. She rose and moved toward him.
+
+"I am not going away," she answered, "if you will permit me to
+remain."
+
+His eyes shone with pathetic brightness, and he put out his hand.
+
+"You are very kind--to a poor--weak fellow," he whispered. "After
+all--it is a desolate thing--to lie awake through the night--in a
+place like this."
+
+When the doctor returned the next morning, he appeared even a shade
+disconcerted. He had thought it quite likely that upon his second
+visit he might find a scant white sheet drawn over the narrow bed, and
+that it would not be necessary for him to remain or call again; but it
+appeared that his patient might require his attention yet a few days
+longer.
+
+"You have not left him at all," he said to Natalie. "It is easy to see
+you did not sleep last night."
+
+It was true that she had not slept. Through the night she had sat in
+the dim glow of the fire, scarcely stirring unless some slight sound
+of movement from the bed attracted her attention. During the first
+part of the night her charge had seemed to sleep; but as the hours
+wore on there had been no more rest for him, and then she had known
+that he lay with his eyes fixed upon her; she had felt their gaze even
+before she had turned to meet it. Just before the dawn he became
+restless, and called her to his side.
+
+"I owe you a heavy debt," he said drearily. "And I shall leave it
+unpaid. I wish--I wish it was finished."
+
+"It?" she said.
+
+"The picture," he answered, "the--picture."
+
+Usually he was too weak for speech; but occasionally a fit of
+restlessness seized upon him, and then it seemed as if he was haunted
+continually by the memory of his unfinished work.
+
+"It only needed a few touches," he said once. "One day of strength
+would complete it--if such a day would but come to me, I know the look
+so well now--I see it on your face so often." And then he lay watching
+her, his eyes following her yearningly, as she moved to and fro.
+
+In the studios below, the artists waited in vain for their model. They
+neither saw nor heard anything of her, and they knew her moods too
+well to be officiously inquisitive. So she was left alone to the task
+she had chosen, and was faithful to it to the end.
+
+It was not so very long it lasted, though to her it seemed a
+life-time. A few weeks the doctor made his visits, and at last one
+afternoon, in going away, he beckoned her out of the room.
+
+He spoke in an undertone.
+
+"To-night you may watch closely," he said; "perhaps toward
+morning--but it will be very quiet."
+
+It was very quiet. The day had been bitter cold, and as it drew to a
+close it became colder still, and a fierce wind rose and whistled
+about the old house, shaking the ill-fitting windows and doors. But
+the sick man did not seem to hear it. Toward midnight he fell into a
+deep and quiet sleep.
+
+Before the fire Natalie sat waiting. Now and then a little shudder
+passed over her as if she could not resist the cold. And yet the fire
+in the stove was a bright one. She had smiled to herself as she had
+heaped the coal upon it, seeing that there was so little left.
+
+"It will last until morning," she said, "and that will be long
+enough." Through all the nights during which she had watched she had
+never felt the room so still as it seemed now between the gusts and
+soughing of the wind. "Something is in the air which has not been in
+it before," she said.
+
+About one o'clock she rose and replenished the fire, putting the last
+fragment of coal upon it, and then sat down to watch it again.
+
+Its slow kindling and glowing into life fascinated her. It was not
+long before she could scarcely remove her eyes from it. She was trying
+to calculate--with a weird fancy in her mind--how long it would last,
+and whether it would die out suddenly or slowly.
+
+As she cowered over it, if one of the men who admired her had entered
+he might well scarcely have known her. She was hollow-eyed, haggard
+and pallid--for the time even her great beauty was gone. As he had
+left her that day, the doctor had said to himself discontentedly that
+after all, these wonderful faces last but a short time.
+
+The fire caught at the coal, lighted fitful blazes among it, and crept
+over it in a dull red, which brightened into hot scarlet.
+
+And the sick man lay sleeping, breathing faintly but lightly.
+
+"It will last until dawn," she said,--"until dawn, and no longer."
+
+When the first cinder dropped with a metallic sound, she started
+violently and laid her hand upon her breast, but after that she
+scarcely stirred.
+
+The fitful blazes died down, the hot scarlet deepened to red again,
+the red grew dull, a gray film of ashes showed itself upon it, and
+then came the first faint gray of dawn, and she sat with beating heart
+saying to herself,
+
+"It will go out soon--suddenly." And the dying man was awake, speaking
+to her.
+
+"Come here," he said in a low, clear voice. "Come here."
+
+She went to him and stood close by the bedside. The moment of her
+supreme anguish had come. But he showed no signs of pain or dread,
+only there was a little moisture upon his forehead and about his
+mouth.
+
+His eyes shone large and bright in the snowy pallor of his face, and
+when he fixed them upon her she knew he would not move them away.
+
+"I am glad--that it is--finished," he said. "It did not tire me to
+work--as I thought it would. I am glad--that it is--finished."
+
+She fell upon her knees.
+
+"That it is finished?" she said.
+
+His smile grew brighter.
+
+"The picture," he whispered--"the picture."
+
+And then what she had waited for came. There was a moment of silence;
+the wind outside hushed itself, his lips parted, but no sound came
+from them, not even a fluttering breath; his eyes were still fixed
+upon her face, open, bright, smiling.
+
+"I may speak now," she cried. "I may speak now--since you cannot hear.
+I love you! I love you!"
+
+But there came to her ears only one sound--the little grating shudder
+of the fire as it fell together and was dead.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next morning when they heard that "the American" had at last
+fulfilled their prophecies, the _locataires_ showed a spasmodic warmth
+of interest. They offered their services promptly, and said to each
+other that he must have been a good fellow, after all--that it was a
+pity they had not known him better. They even protested that he should
+not be made an object of charity--that among themselves they would do
+all that was necessary. But it appeared that their help was not
+needed--that there was in the background a friend who had done all,
+but whom nobody knew.
+
+Hearing this they expressed their sympathy by going up by twos and
+threes to the little garret where there was now only icy coldness and
+silence.
+
+Not a few among them were so far touched by the pathos they found in
+this as to shed a tear or so--most of them were volatile young
+Frenchmen who counted their sensibilities among their luxuries.
+
+Toward evening there came two older than the rest, who had not been
+long in the house.
+
+When they entered, a woman stood at the bed's head--a woman in black
+drapery, with a pale and haggard face which they saw only for a
+moment.
+
+As they approached she moved away, and going to the window stood there
+with her back toward them, gazing out at the drifted snow upon the
+roof. The men stood uncovered, looking down.
+
+"It is the face of an Immortal," said the elder of the two. "It is
+such men who die young."
+
+And then they saw the easel in the shadow of the corner, and went and
+turned it from the wall. When they saw the picture resting upon it,
+there was a long silence. It was broken at last by the older man.
+
+"It is some woman he has known and loved," he said. "He has painted
+her soul--and his own."
+
+The figure near them stirred--the woman's hand crept up to the
+window's side and clung to the wooden frame.
+
+But she did not turn, and was standing so when the strangers moved
+away, opened the door and passed, with heads still uncovered, down the
+dark rickety stairs.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A fiercer cold had never frozen Paris than held it ice and snow bound
+through this day and the next. When the next came to its close all was
+over and the studios were quiet again--perhaps a little quieter for a
+few hours than was their wont.
+
+Through this second day Natalie lived--slowly: through the first
+part of the morning in which people went heavily up and down the
+stairs; through the later hours when she heard them whispering among
+themselves upon the landings; through the hour when the footsteps that
+came down were heavier still, and slower, and impeded with some burden
+borne with care; through the moment when they rested with this burden
+upon the landing outside her very door, and inside she crouched
+against the panels--listening.
+
+Then it was all done, and upon those upper floors there was no
+creature but herself.
+
+She had lighted no fire and eaten nothing. She had neither food, fuel,
+nor money. All was gone.
+
+"It is well," she said, "that I am not hungry, and that I would rather
+be colder than warmer."
+
+She did not wish for warmth, even when night fell and brought more
+biting iciness. She sat by her window in the dark until the moon
+rose, and though shudders shook her from head to foot, she made no
+effort to gain warmth. She heard but few sounds from below, but she
+waited until all was still before she left her place.
+
+But at midnight perfect silence had settled upon the house, and she
+got up and left her room, leaving the key unturned in the lock.
+"To-morrow, or the day after, perhaps," she said, "they will wish to
+go in." Then she went up the stairs for the last time.
+
+Since she had heard the heavy feet lumbering with their burden past
+her door, a singular calm had settled upon her. It was not apathy so
+much as a repose born of the knowledge that there was nothing more to
+bear--no future to be feared.
+
+But when she opened the door of the little room this calmness was for
+a moment lost.
+
+It was so cold, so still, so bare in the moonlight which streamed
+through the window and flooded it. There were left in it only two
+things--the narrow, vacant bed covered with its white sheet, and the
+easel on which the picture rested, gazing out at her from the canvas
+with serene, mysterious eyes.
+
+She staggered forward and sank down before it, uttering a low,
+terrible cry.
+
+"Do not reproach me!" she cried. "There is no longer need. Do you not
+see? This is my expiation!"
+
+For a while there was dead silence again. She crouched before the
+easel with bowed head and her face veiled upon her arms, making no
+stir or sound. But at length she rose again, numbly and stiffly. She
+stood up and glanced slowly about her--at the bareness, at the
+moonlight, at the narrow, white-draped bed.
+
+"It will be--very cold," she whispered as she moved toward the door.
+"It will be--very cold."
+
+And then the little room was empty, and the face upon the easel turned
+toward the entrance seemed to listen to her stealthily descending
+feet.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next morning the two artists who had visited the dead man's room
+together, were walking--together again--upon the banks of the Seine,
+when they found themselves drawing near a crowd of men and women who
+were gathered at the water's edge.
+
+"What has happened?" they asked, as they approached the group. "What
+has been found?"
+
+A cheerful fellow in a blue blouse, standing with his hands in his
+pockets, answered.
+
+"A woman. _Ma foi!_ what a night to drown oneself in! Imagine the
+discomfort!"
+
+The older man pushed his way into the centre, and a moment later
+uttered an exclamation.
+
+"_Mon Dieu!_"
+
+"What is it?" cried his companion.
+
+His friend turned to him, breathlessly pointing to what lay upon the
+frozen earth.
+
+"We asked each other who the original of the picture was," he said.
+"We did not know. The face lies there. Look!"
+
+For that which life had denied her, Death had given.
+
+
+
+
+TWO PURSE-COMPANIONS.
+
+BY GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP.
+
+_Scribner's Monthly, August, 1878._
+
+
+Everybody in college who knew them at all was curious to see what
+would come of a friendship between two persons so opposite in tastes,
+habitudes and appearance as John Silverthorn and Bill Vibbard. John
+was a hard reader, and Bill a lazy one. John was thin and graceful,
+with something pensive yet free and vivid in his nature; Bill was
+robust, prosaic and conventional. There was an air of neglect and a
+prospective sense of worldly failure about Silverthorn, but you would
+at once have singled out Vibbard as being well cared for, and adapted
+to push his way. Their likes and dislikes even in the matter of
+amusement were dissimilar; and Vibbard was easy-going and popular,
+while Silverthorn was shy and had few acquaintances. Yet, as far as
+possible, they were always with each other; they roomed, worked,
+walked and lounged in company, and often made mutual concessions of
+taste so that they might avoid being separated. It was also discovered
+that though their allowances were unequal, they had put them together
+and paid all expenses out of a common purse. Their very differences
+made this alliance a great advantage in some respects, and it was
+rendered stronger by the fact that, however incompatible outwardly,
+they both agreed in acting with an earnest straightforwardness.
+
+But perhaps I had better describe how I first saw them together. It
+was on a Saturday, when a good many men were always sure to be found
+disporting themselves on the ball-field. I used to exercise my own
+muscles by going to look at them, on these occasions; and on that
+particular day I came near being hit by a sudden ball, which was
+caught by an active, darting figure just in time to save my head from
+an awkward encounter. I nodded to my rescuer, and called out
+cordially, "Thank you!"
+
+"All right," said he, in a glum tone meant to be good-naturedly
+modest. "Look out for your_self_ next time."
+
+It was Bill Vibbard, then in the latter part of his freshman year; and
+not far distant I discovered his comrade Silverthorn, watching Bill in
+silent admiration. They continued slowly on their way toward an oak
+grove, which then stood near the field. Silverthorn, a smaller figure
+than Vibbard, wore a suit of uniform tint, made of sleazy gray stuff
+that somehow at once gave me the idea that it was taken out of one of
+his mother's discarded dresses. His face was nearly colorless without
+being pallid; and the faint golden down on his cheeks and upper lip,
+instead of being disagreeably juvenile, really added to the pleasant
+dreaminess that hung like a haze over his mild young features. He was
+slender, he carried himself rather quaintly; but his gait was buoyant
+and spirited. At that season the lilacs were in bloom, and Silverthorn
+held a glorious plume of the pale blossoms in his hand. What the first
+touch of fire is to the woods in autumn, the blooming of the lilac is
+to the new summer--a mystery, a beauty, too exquisite to last long
+intact; evanescent as human breath, yet, like that, fraught with
+incalculable values. All this Silverthorn must have felt to the full,
+judging from the tender way in which he held the flowers, even while
+absorbed in talk with his friend. His fingers seemed conscious that
+they were touching the clue to a finer life. In Vibbard's warm, tough
+fist, the lilacs would have faded within ten minutes. Vibbard was
+stocky and muscular, and his feet went down at each step as if they
+never meant to come up again. He wore stylish clothes, kept his hands
+much in his coat pockets, affected high-colored neck-scarfs, and had a
+red face with blunt features. When he was excited, his face wore a
+fierce aspect; when he felt friendly, it became almost foolishly
+sentimental; as a general thing it was morosely inert.
+
+Being in my senior year, I did not see much of either Vibbard or
+his friend; but I sometimes occupied myself with attempts to analyze
+the sources of their intimacy. I remember stating to one of my
+young acquaintances that Vibbard probably had a secret longing
+to be feminine and ideal, and that Silverthorn felt himself at fault
+in masculine toughness and hardihood, so that each sought the
+companionship of the other, hoping to gain some of the qualities which
+he himself lacked; and my young acquaintance offended me by replying,
+as if it had all been perfectly obvious, "Of course."
+
+After I had been graduated, and had entered the Law School,
+Silverthorn and Vibbard came to my room one day, on a singular errand,
+which--though I did not guess it then--was to influence their lives
+for many a year afterward.
+
+"Ferguson," began Bill, rather shyly, when they had seated themselves,
+"I suppose you know enough of law, by this time, to draw up a paper."
+
+"Yes, I suppose so; or draw it down, either," I replied. But I saw at
+once that my flippancy did not suit the occasion, for the two young
+fellows glanced at each other very seriously and seemed embarrassed.
+"What do you want me to do?" I asked.
+
+Silverthorn now spoke, in his soft light inexperienced voice, which
+possessed a singular charm.
+
+"It's all Bill's idea," said he, rather carelessly. "I would much
+rather have the understanding in words, but he--"
+
+"Yes," broke in Bill, growing suddenly red and vehement, "I'm not
+going to have it a thing that can be forgotten. No one knows what
+might happen."
+
+"Well, well," said I, "if I'm to help you, you'd better fire away and
+tell me what it is you're after."
+
+"I will," returned Vibbard, with a touch of that fierceness which
+marked his resolute moods. "Thorny and I have agreed to stand by each
+other when we quit college. Men are always forming friendships in the
+beginning of life, and then getting dragged apart by circumstances,
+such as wide separation and different interests. We don't want this to
+happen, and so we've made a compact that whichever one of us, Thorny
+or me, shall be worth thirty thousand dollars first,--why that one is
+to give the other half. That is, unless the second one is already well
+enough off, so that to give him a full half would put him ahead of
+whichever has the thirty thousand. D'you see?"
+
+"The idea is to keep even as long as we can, you know," said
+Silverthorn, turning from one of my books which he had begun to glance
+through, and looking into my eyes with a delighted, straightforward
+gaze.
+
+"That's a very curious notion!" said I, revolving the plan with a
+caution born of legal readings. "Before we go on, would you mind
+telling me which one of you originated this scheme?"
+
+I was facing Silverthorn as I spoke, but felt impelled to turn
+quickly and include Vibbard in the question. They were both silent. It
+was plain, after a moment, that they really didn't know which one of
+them had first thought of this compact.
+
+"Wasn't it you?" queried Silverthorn, musingly, of his comrade.
+
+"I don't know," returned Vibbard; then, as if so much subtilty annoyed
+him: "What difference does it make, anyway? Can't you draw an
+agreement for us, Ferguson?"
+
+But I was really so much interested in getting at their minds through
+this channel, that I couldn't comply at once.
+
+"Now, you two fellows, you know," said I, laughing, "are younger than
+I, and I think it becomes me to know exactly what this thing means,
+before proceeding any further in it. How can I tell but one of you is
+trying to get an advantage over the other?"
+
+The pair looked startled at this, but it was only, I found, because
+they were so astonished at having such a construction put upon their
+project.
+
+"Don't be alarmed," I hastened to say. "I wasn't serious."
+
+But Vibbard persisted in a dogged expression of gloom.
+
+"It's always this way," he presently declared, in a heavy, provoked
+tone. "My father, you know, is a shrewd man, and everybody is forever
+accusing me of being mean and overreaching. But I never dreamed that
+it could be imputed in such a move as--well, never mind!" he suddenly
+exclaimed in a loud voice, and with assumed indifference, getting up
+from his chair. "Of course it's all over now. I sha'n't do anything
+more about it, after what Ferguson has said." He was so sulky that he
+had to resort to thus putting me in the third person, although he was
+not addressing these words to Silverthorn. Then he gave his thick
+frame a slight shake, as if to get rid of the disagreeable feelings I
+had excited, and turned toward his friend. On the instant there came
+into his unmoved eyes and his matter-of-fact countenance a look of
+sentiment so incongruous as to be almost laughable. "I wish I could
+have done it, Thorny," said he, wistfully.
+
+"Hold on, Vibbard," I interposed. "Don't be discouraged."
+
+He paid no attention.
+
+Upon this Silverthorn fired up.
+
+"Hullo, Bill, this won't do! Do you suppose I'm going to let our pet
+arrangement drop that way and leave you to be so misconstrued? Come
+back here and sit down." (Vibbard was already at the door.) "As for
+_your_ getting any advantage out of this, is it likely? Why, you are
+well off now, to begin with; that is, your father is; and I am poor,
+downright poor--Ferguson must have seen that."
+
+Here was a surprise! The dreamy youth was proving himself much more
+sensible than the beefy and practical one. Vibbard, however, seemed to
+enjoy being admonished by Silverthorn, and resumed his seat quite
+meekly. To me, in my balancing frame of mind, it occurred that one
+might go farther than Silverthorn had done, in saying that any
+advantage to Vibbard was very improbable; one might assume that it was
+surely Silverthorn who would reap the profit. But I decided not to
+disturb the already troubled waters any more.
+
+Silverthorn, however, expressed this idea: "You'll be thinking," he
+said to me, with a smile, "that _I_ am going to get the upper hand in
+this bargain; and I know there seems a greater chance of it. But then
+I have hopes--I--" The dreamy look, which I have described by the
+simile of a haze, gathered and increased on his fair ingenuous young
+face, and his eyes quite ignored me for a moment, being fixed on some
+imaginary outlook very entrancing to him, until he recalled his
+flagging voice, to add: "Well, I don't know that I can put it before
+you, but there are possibilities which may make a great difference in
+my fortunes within a few years."
+
+I fancied that Vibbard gave me a quick, confidential glance, as much
+as to say, "Don't disturb that idea. Let him think so." But the next
+moment his features were as inert as ever.
+
+It turned out, on inquiry, that only Vibbard was of age; his friend
+being quick in study, had entered college early, and nearly two years
+stood between him and his majority; so that, if their contract was to
+be binding, they would have to defer it for that length of time. I
+was prepared for their disappointment; but Silverthorn, after an
+instant's reflection, seemed quite satisfied. As they were going, he
+hurried back, leaving his friend out of ear-shot, and explained
+himself,--
+
+"You see, Vibbard has an idea that I shall never succeed in
+life,--financially, that is,--and so he wants to fasten this agreement
+on me, to prevent pride or anything making me back out, you know, by
+and by. But I like all the better to have it left just as it is for a
+while, so that if we should ever put it on paper he needn't feel that
+he had hurried into the thing too rashly."
+
+"I understand," I replied; and I pressed his hand warmly, for his
+frankness and genuineness had pleased me.
+
+When they were gone, I pondered several minutes on the novelty and
+boyish naivete of the whole proceeding, and found myself a good deal
+refreshed by the sincerity of the two young fellows and their fine
+confidence in the perfectibility of the future. It seemed to me, the
+more I thought of it, that I could hold on to this scheme of theirs as
+a help to myself in retaining a healthy freshness of spirit. "At any
+rate," I said, "I won't allow myself to go adrift into cynicism as
+long as they keep faith with their ideal."
+
+From time to time during the two years, I encountered the friends
+casually; and I remember having a fancy that their faces--which of
+course altered somewhat, as they matured--were acquiring a kind of
+likeness; or, rather, were _exchanging_ expressions. Silverthorn's
+grew rounder and brightened a degree in color; his glance had less
+momentum in it; he looked more commonplace and contented. On the other
+hand, Vibbard, through mental exertion (for he had lately been
+studying hard) and the society of his junior, had modified the inertia
+of his own expression. The strength of his features began to be
+mingled with gentleness. But this I recalled only at a later time.
+
+Near the end of the two years' limit, when the boon companions were on
+the eve of taking their degrees, I found that another element had come
+into their affairs.
+
+Going out one evening to visit a friend who lived at some distance on
+one of the large railroads, I had a glimpse of a small manufacturing
+place, which the train passed with great rapidity at late twilight.
+The large mill was already lighted up, and every window flashed as we
+sped by. But the sunset had not quite faded, and, from the colored sky
+far away behind the mill, light enough still came to show the narrow
+glen with its wall of autumn foliage on either side, the black and
+silent river above the dam, the sudden shining screen of falling water
+at the dam itself, and again a smooth dark current below, running
+toward us and under the railroad embankment. There was a small
+settlement of operatives' houses near the factory, and two or three
+larger homes were visible, snugly placed among the trees. We were
+swept away out of sight in a moment; but there was something so
+striking in that single glimpse, that a traveller in the next seat,
+who had not spoken to me before, turned and asked me what place it
+was. I did not know. I afterward learned that it was Stansby, a
+factory village perhaps forty miles from Cambridge. Finding that the
+memory of the spot clung to me, I wished to know more about it; and
+one day in the following spring, when I needed a change from the city,
+I actually went out there. Stansby did not prove to be a very
+picturesque place; yet its gentle hills, with outcroppings of cold
+granite, the deep-hued river between, and the cotton-mill near the
+railroad, somehow roused a decided interest which I never have been
+able wholly to account for. I enjoyed strolling about, but was
+beginning to think of a train back to Boston, when a turn of the road,
+a quarter of a mile from the mill, brought me face to face with a
+young girl who was approaching slowly with a book in her hand, which
+she read as she walked.
+
+She was not a beautiful girl, and not at all what is understood by a
+"brilliant" girl; yet at the very first look she excited my interest,
+as Stansby village itself had done. In every outline and motion she
+showed perfect health; her clear color was tonic to the eye; her deep
+brown hair, at the same time that it gave a restful look to her
+forehead, added something of fervency to her general aspect. In
+sympathy with the beautiful day, she had taken off her hat (which she
+carried on one arm), disclosing a spray of fresh lilacs in her hair.
+She was very simply, though not poorly, dressed. All this, and more, I
+was able to observe without disturbing her absorption in her book; but
+just as I was trying to decide whether the firm, compressed corners of
+her mouth only meant interest in the reading, or indicated some
+peculiar hardness of character, she glanced up and saw my eyes bent
+upon her.
+
+Then, for an instant, there came into her own a look of eager search;
+no softly inquiring gaze, such as would be natural to most women on
+a casual meeting of this sort, but a full, energetic, self-reliant
+scrutiny. I don't think the compression about her lips was softened
+by her surprise at seeing me; but that keen level look from her
+eyes brought a wonderful change over her face, so that from being
+interesting it became attractive, and I was fired by a kind of
+enthusiasm in beholding it. Involuntarily I took off my hat, and
+paused at the side of the highway. She bent her head again,--perhaps
+with some acknowledgment of my bow, but not definitely for that
+purpose, because she continued reading as she passed me.
+
+But now came the strangest part of the episode. This girl disappeared
+around the bend of the road, and after her two young fellows drew near
+whom I recognized as Vibbard and Silverthorn. It happened that
+Silverthorn, as on the very first day I had ever seen him, carried a
+sprig of lilac. Happened? No; the lilac in the girl's hair was too
+strong a coincidence to be overlooked, and I was not long in guessing
+that there was some tender meaning in it.
+
+"Hullo! Ferguson."
+
+"Did you know we were here?"
+
+These exclamations were made with some confusion, and Silverthorn
+blushed faintly.
+
+"No," said I. "Do you come often?"
+
+They looked at each other confidentially.
+
+"We have, lately," Vibbard admitted.
+
+"Then perhaps you can tell me who that girl is that I just passed."
+
+"Oh, yes," said Silverthorn, at once. "That's Ida Winwood, the
+daughter of the superintendent here at the mills."
+
+"She is a very striking girl," I said. "You know her, of course?"
+
+"A little."
+
+Vibbard enlarged upon this: it was a curious habit they had fallen
+into, of each waiting for the other to explain what should more
+properly have been explained by himself.
+
+"Thorny's father, you know," said Vibbard, "was a great machinist, and
+so they had acquaintances around at mills in different parts of the
+State. She--that is Ida, you know--is only sixteen now, but Thorny
+first saw her when he was a boy and came here, once or twice, with his
+father."
+
+Silverthorn nodded his head corroboratively.
+
+"But it seems to me," I said, addressing him, "that you treat her
+rather distantly for an old acquaintance; or else she treats you
+distantly. Which is it?"
+
+They laughed, and Vibbard blurted out, with a queer, boyish grimace:
+
+"It's _me_. She don't like me. Hey, Thorny?"
+
+"It's nearer the truth," returned his friend, "to say that you're so
+bashful you don't give her half a chance to make known what she does
+think of you."
+
+"Oh, time enough--time enough," said Vibbard, good-humoredly.
+
+Remembering that I must hurry back to catch my train, I suddenly found
+that I had been in an abstracted mood, for I was still standing with
+my hat off.
+
+"Well, let me know how you get on," I said, jocosely, as I parted from
+the comrades.
+
+Yet for the life of me I could not tell which one of them it was that
+I should expect to hear from as a suitor for the girl's hand.
+
+It was within a fortnight after this that they came to my office--for
+I had been admitted to the bar--and announced that the time for
+drawing up their long-pending agreement had arrived. They were still
+as eager as ever about it, and I very soon had the instrument made
+out, stating the mutual consideration, and duly signed and sealed.
+
+Finding that they had been at Stansby again, I was prompted to ask
+them more about Ida.
+
+"Do you know," I said, boldly, "that I am very much puzzled as to
+which of you was the more interested in her?"
+
+They took it in good part, and Silverthorn answered:
+
+"That's not surprising. I don't know, myself."
+
+"I'm trying," said Vibbard, bluntly, "to make Thorny fall in love with
+her. But I can't seem to succeed."
+
+"No," said his friend, "because I insist upon it that she's just the
+woman for _you_."
+
+Vibbard turned to me with an expression of ridicule.
+
+"Yes," he said, "Thorny is as much wrapped up in that idea as if his
+own happiness depended on my marrying her."
+
+"You're rivals then, after a new fashion," was my comment. "Don't you
+see, though, how you are to settle it?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why, each of you should propose in form, for the other. Then Miss
+Winwood would have to take the difficulty into her own hands."
+
+"Ha, ha!" laughed Vibbard. "That's a good idea. But suppose she don't
+care for either of us?"
+
+"Very well. I don't see that in that case she would be worse off than
+yourselves, for neither of you seems to care for her."
+
+"Oh yes, we do!" exclaimed Silverthorn, instantly.
+
+"Yes, we care a great deal," insisted Vibbard.
+
+They both grew so very earnest over this that I didn't dare to
+continue the subject, and it was left in greater mystery than before.
+
+At last the time of graduation came, and the two friends parted to
+pursue their separate ways. Silverthorn had a widowed mother living at
+a distance in the country, whose income had barely enabled her to send
+him through college on a meagre allowance. He went home to visit her
+for a few days, and then promptly took his place on a daily newspaper
+in Boston, where he spent six months of wretched failure. He had great
+hopes of achieving in a short time some prodigious triumph in writing,
+but at the end of this period he gave it all up, and decided to
+develop the mechanical genius which he thought he had perhaps
+inherited from his father. I began to have a suspicion when I learned
+that this new turn had led him to Stansby, where he procured a
+position as a sort of clerk to the superintendent, Winwood.
+
+After some months, I went out to see him there. In the evening we went
+to the Winwoods', and I watched closely to discover any signs of a new
+relation between Silverthorn and the daughter. Mr. Winwood himself was
+a homely, perfectly commonplace man, whose face looked as if it had
+been stamped with a die which was to furnish a hundred duplicate
+physiognomies. Mrs. Winwood was a fat, woolly sort of woman, who
+knitted, and rocked in her rocking-chair, keeping time to her needles.
+A smell of tea and chops came from the adjoining room, where they
+had been having supper; and there was a big, hot-colored lithograph
+of Stansby Mills hung up over the fireplace, with one or two
+awkward-looking engravings of famous men and their families on the
+remaining wall-spaces. Yet, even with these crude and barren
+surroundings, the girl Ida retained a peculiar and inspiring charm.
+She talked in a full, free tone of voice, and was very sensible; but
+in everything she said or did, there was a mixture, with the prosaic,
+of something so sweet and fresh, that I could not help thinking she
+was very remarkable. In particular, there was that strong, fine look
+from the eyes which had impressed me on my first casual meeting in the
+road. It had a transforming power, and seemed to speak of resolution,
+aspiration, or self-sacrifice. I noticed with what enthusiasm she
+glanced up at Silverthorn, when he was showing her some drawings of
+machinery, executed by himself, and was dilating upon certain
+improvements which he intended to make. Still, there was a reserve
+between them, and a timidity on his part, which showed that no
+engagement to marry had been made, as yet.
+
+He was very silent as we walked together beside the dark river toward
+the railroad, after our call. But, when we came abreast of the dam,
+with its sudden burst of noise, and its continual hissing murmur, he
+stopped short, with a look of passion in his face.
+
+"Things have changed since Vibbard went away," he said. "Yes, yes;
+very much. I used to think it was he who ought to love her."
+
+"And you have found out--" I began.
+
+He laid his hand quickly on my arm.
+
+"Yes, I have found that it is I who love her--eternally, truly! But
+don't tell any one of this; it seems to me strange that I should speak
+of it, even to you. I cannot ask her to marry me yet. But there seems
+to be a relief in letting you know."
+
+I was expressing my pleasure at being of any use to him, when the
+ominous sound of the approaching cars made itself heard, and I had to
+hurry off. But, all the way back to the city, I could think of nothing
+but Silverthorn's announcement; and suddenly there flashed upon me the
+secret and the danger of the whole situation. This girl, who had so
+much interested the two friends, in spite of their strong contrasts of
+character, was, perhaps, the only one in the world who could have
+pleased them both; for in her own person she seemed to display a
+mixture of elements, much the same and quite as decided as theirs.
+What, then, if Vibbard also should wake up to the knowledge of a love
+for her?
+
+The next time I saw Silverthorn, which was a full year later, I said
+to him:
+
+"Do you hear from Vibbard anything about that agreement to divide your
+gains?"
+
+"No!" he replied, avoiding my eye; "nothing about that."
+
+"Do you expect him to keep it?"
+
+"Yes!" he said, glancing swiftly up again, with a gleam of friendly
+vindication in his eyes. "I know he will."
+
+"But I hear hard things said of him," I persisted. "Reports have
+lately come to me as to some rather close, not to say sharp, bargains
+of his. He is successful; perhaps he is changing."
+
+For the first time I saw Silverthorn angry.
+
+"Never say a word of that sort to me again!" he cried, with a demeanor
+bordering on violence.
+
+I was a little piqued, and inquired:
+
+"Well, how do you get on toward being in a position to pay him?"
+
+But I regretted my thrust. Silverthorn's face fell, and he could make
+no reply.
+
+"Is there no prospect of success with those machines you were talking
+of last year?" I asked more kindly.
+
+"No," said he, sadly. "I'm afraid not. I shall never succeed. It all
+depends on Vibbard, now. I cannot even marry, unless he gets enough to
+give me a start."
+
+I left him with a dreary misgiving in my heart. What an unhappy
+outcome of their compact was this!
+
+Meanwhile, Vibbard was thriving. After a brief sojourn with his
+father, who was a well-to-do hardware merchant in his own small inland
+city, he went to Virginia and began sheep-farming. In two years he had
+gained enough to find it feasible to return to New York, where he took
+up the business of a note-broker. People who knew him prophesied that
+he would prove too slow to be a successful man in early life; and, in
+fact, as he did not look like a quick man, he was a long time in
+gaining the reputation of one. But his sagacious instincts moved all
+the more effectively for being masked, and he made some astonishing
+strokes. It began to seem as if other men around him who lost, were
+controlled by some deadly attraction which forced them to throw their
+success under Vibbard's feet. His car rolled on over them. Everything
+yielded him a pecuniary return.
+
+As he was approaching his thirtieth birthday, he found himself worth a
+little over thirty thousand dollars--after deducting expenses, bad
+claims, and a large sum repaid to his father for the cost of his
+college course. He had been only six years in accumulating it. But how
+endlessly prolonged had those six years been for Silverthorn! When
+three of them had passed, he declared his love to Ida Winwood, though
+in such a way that she need neither refuse nor accept him at once;
+and a _quasi_ engagement was made between them, having in view a
+probable share in Vibbard's fortunes. Once,--perhaps more than
+once,--Silverthorn bitterly reproached himself, in her presence, for
+trusting so entirely to another man's energies. But Ida put up her
+hands beseechingly, looking at him with a devoted faith.
+
+"No, John!" she cried. "There is nothing wrong about it. If you were
+other than you are, I might not wish it to be so. But you,--you are
+different from other men; there is something finer about you, and you
+are not meant for battling your way. But, when once you get this
+money, you will give all your time to inventing, or writing, and then
+people will find out what you are!"
+
+There was something strange and pathetic in their relation to each
+other, now. Silverthorn seemed nervous and weary; he looked as if he
+were growing old, even with that soft yellow beard and his pale brown
+hair still unchanged (for he was only twenty-eight). His spirits were
+capricious; sometimes bounding high with hope, and, at others, utterly
+despondent. Ida, meantime, had reached a full development; she was
+twenty-two, fresh, strong, and self-reliant. When they were together,
+she had the air of caring for him as for an invalid.
+
+Suddenly, one day, at the close of Vibbard's six years' absence,
+Silverthorn came running from the mill during working-hours, and burst
+into the superintendent's cottage with an open letter in his hand,
+calling aloud for Ida.
+
+"He is coming! He is coming!" cried he, breathless, but with a harsh
+excitement, as if he had been flying from an angry pursuer.
+
+"Who? What has happened?" returned Ida, in alarm.
+
+"Vibbard."
+
+But he looked so wild and distraught, that Ida could not understand.
+
+"Vibbard?" she repeated. Then,--with an amazed apprehension which came
+swiftly upon her,--shutting both hands tight as if to strengthen
+herself, and bringing them close together over her bosom: "Have you
+quarreled with him?"
+
+"Quarreled?" echoed Silverthorn, looking back her amazement. "Why, do
+you suppose the world has come to an end? Don't you know we would
+sooner die than quarrel?"
+
+"Vibbard--coming!" repeated Ida, as she caught sight of the letter.
+"Yes; now, I see."
+
+"But, doesn't it make you happy?" asked her lover, suddenly annoyed at
+her cool reception of the news.
+
+"I don't know," she answered, pensively. "You have startled me so.
+Besides,--why should it make me happy?" A singular confusion seemed to
+have come over her mind. "Of course," she added, after a moment, "I am
+happy, because he's your friend."
+
+"But,--the money, Ida!" He took her hand, but received no answering
+pressure. "The money,--think of it! We shall be able--" Then catching
+sight of an expression on her features that was almost cruel in its
+chill absence of sympathy, Silverthorn dropped her hand in a pet, and
+walked quickly out of the house back to the mill.
+
+She did not follow him. It was their first misunderstanding.
+
+Silverthorn remained at his desk, went to his own boarding-house for
+dinner, and returned to the mill, but always with a sense of unbroken
+suffering. What had happened? Why had Ida been so unresponsive? Why
+had he felt angry with her? These questions repeated themselves
+incessantly, and were lost again in a chaotic humming that seemed to
+fill his ears and to shut out the usual sounds of the day, making him
+feel as if thrust away into a cell by himself, at the same time that
+he was moving about among other people.
+
+Vibbard was to arrive that afternoon. Silverthorn wished he had told
+Ida, before leaving her, how soon his friend was coming. As no
+particular hour had been named in the letter, he grew intolerably
+restless, and finally told Winwood that he was going to the depot, to
+wait.
+
+All this time Ida had been nearly as wretched as he; and, unable to
+make out why this cloud had come over them just when they ought to
+have been happiest, she, too, went out into the air for relief, and
+wandered along the hill-side by the river.
+
+It was early summer again. The lilacs were in bloom. All along the
+fence in front of Winwood's house were vigorous bushes in full flower.
+Ida, as she passed out, broke off a spray and put it in her hair,
+wishing that its faint perfume might be a spell to bring Silverthorn
+back.
+
+On the edge of the wood where she had been idly pacing for a few
+minutes, all at once she heard a crackling of twigs and dry leaves
+under somebody's active tread, just behind her. It did not sound like
+her lover's step. She looked around. The man, a stranger with strong
+features and thick beard, halted at once and looked at her--silently,
+as if he had forgotten to speak, but with a degree of homage that
+dispelled everything like alarm.
+
+She stood still, looking at him as earnestly as he at her. Then, she
+hardly knew how, a conviction came to her.
+
+"Mr. Vibbard?" she said, in a low inquiring tone. To herself she
+whispered, "Six years!"
+
+Somehow, although she expected it, there was something terrible in
+having this silent, strange man respond:
+
+"Yes."
+
+He spoke very gently, and put out his hand to her.
+
+She laid her own in his strong grasp, and then instantly felt as if
+she had done something wrong. But he would not let it go again.
+Drawing her a little toward him, he turned so that they could walk
+together back to the mills.
+
+"Did John send you this way? Have you seen him?" she asked,
+falteringly.
+
+"No," said Vibbard. "From where I happened to be, I thought I could
+get here sooner by walking over through Bartlett. Besides, it was
+pleasanter to come my own way instead of by railroad."
+
+"But how did you know me?"
+
+"I have never forgotten how you looked. And besides, that lilac."
+
+With a troubled impulse, Ida drew her hand away from his, and snatched
+the blossoms out of her hair, meaning to throw them away. Then she
+hesitated, seeing her rudeness. Vibbard, who had not understood the
+movement, said with a tone of delight:
+
+"Won't you give them to me? Do you remember how you wore them in your
+hair one day, years ago?"
+
+"I have reasons for not forgetting it," she answered with a laugh,
+feeling more at her ease. "Well, I have spoiled this bunch now, but of
+course you may have them."
+
+He took the flowers, and they walked on, talking more like old
+friends. At the moment when this happened, Silverthorn, who, while
+waiting for another train to arrive, had come back to the house in
+search of Ida, passed on into a little orchard on a slope, just
+beyond, which overlooked a bend in the road: from there he saw Ida
+give Vibbard the lilac spray. At first he scarcely knew his old
+friend, and the sight struck him with a jealous pang he had never felt
+before. Then suddenly he saw that it was Vibbard, and would have
+rushed down the slope to welcome him. But like a detaining hand upon
+him, the remembrance of his foolish quarrel with Ida held him back. He
+slunk away secretly through the orchard, into the woods, and hurried
+to meet Vibbard at a point below the house, where Ida would have left
+him.
+
+He was not disappointed. He gained the spot in time, and appeared to
+be walking up from the mill, when he encountered his old comrade going
+sturdily toward it. Nevertheless, he felt uncomfortable at the
+deception he was using. They greeted each other warmly, yet each felt
+a constraint that surprised him.
+
+Vibbard explained how he had come.
+
+"And I have seen Ida," he exclaimed impetuously, with a glow of
+pleasure. Then he stopped in embarrassment. "Are you going back that
+way?" he asked.
+
+"No," said the other, gloomily. "We'll go over the river to where I
+live."
+
+They took the path in that direction, and on the way Vibbard began
+explaining how he had arranged his property.
+
+"It's just as well not to go up to the Winwoods' until we've finished
+this," he said, parenthetically. "And to tell you the truth, Thorny,
+it's a queer business for me to be about, after I've been hard at work
+for so long, scraping together what I've got. I shouldn't much like
+people to know about it, I can tell you; and I never would do it for
+any man but you."
+
+Formerly, Silverthorn had been used to this sort of bluntness, but now
+it irritated him.
+
+"Do you mean to say," he asked, "that you would break your bargain, if
+it had been made with any one besides me?"
+
+Vibbard drew himself up proudly.
+
+"No, sir!" he declared, in a cold tone. "I keep my word whenever I
+have given it."
+
+Silverthorn uttered an oath under his breath.
+
+"If you mean to keep your word, why don't you do it without
+blustering? Suppose I _have_ been unfortunate enough to come out
+behind in the race, and to need this money of yours? Is that any
+reason why you should grind into me like a file the sense of my
+obligation to you?"
+
+"Come, Thorny," said his friend, "you are treating me like a stranger.
+How long is it since you got these high-strung notions?"
+
+"I suppose I've been growing sensitive since I first perceived that I
+was dependent on your fortune. It has unmanned me. I believe I might
+have done something, but for this."
+
+"Gad, so might I be doing something, now, if I had my whole capital,"
+muttered Vibbard.
+
+He did not see how his remark renewed the wound he had just been
+trying to heal. For several years he had felt that the compact with
+his friend was a useless clog on himself, and this had probably caused
+him to dwell too much on his own generosity in making it.
+
+Both felt pained and dissatisfied with their meeting. It was full of
+sordidness and discomfort; it seemed in one hour to have stripped from
+their lives the romance of youth. But after their little tiff they
+tried to recover their spirits and succeeded in keeping up a sham kind
+of gayety. Arrived at Silverthorn's lodging, they completed their
+business; Vibbard handing over a check, and receiving in exchange
+Silverthorn's copy of the agreement with a receipt in due form.
+
+"How long can you stay, Bill?" asked Silverthorn, more cheerfully,
+when this was over. A suppressed elation at his good luck made him
+tingle from top to toe; and, to tell the truth, he did not feel much
+interest in Vibbard's remaining.
+
+"I must be off to-morrow," said his friend. "I suppose I can stay here
+to-night?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"I must call on Ida, before I go."
+
+Silverthorn's brow darkened.
+
+"Ah, Thorny," continued Vibbard, unconsciously, "it's queer to look
+back to that time when we were trying to persuade each other to make
+love to her! Do you know that since I've been away, she's never once
+gone out of my mind?"
+
+"Is that so?" returned his comrade, with a strained and cloudy effort
+to appear lightly interested.
+
+"Yes," said the other, warming to his theme. "It may seem strange in a
+rough business man like me,--and I guess it would have played the Old
+Harry with anybody whose head wasn't perfectly level,--but that
+strong, pure, sweet face of hers has come between me and many a sharp
+fellow I've had to deal with. But it never distracted my thoughts; it
+helped me. The memory of her was with me night and day, Thorny, and it
+made me a hard, successful worker, and kept me a pure-hearted, happy
+man. You'll see that I don't need much persuasion to speak to her
+now!"
+
+While Vibbard was talking, Silverthorn had risen, as if interested,
+and now stood with his arm stretched on the cheap, painted wooden
+mantelpiece above the empty grate of his meagre room. Vibbard noticed
+that he looked pale; and it suddenly struck him that his friend might
+have suffered from poverty, and that his health was perhaps weakening.
+A gush of the old-time love suddenly came up from his heart, though he
+said nothing.
+
+"You know I always told you," Silverthorn began,--he paused and waited
+an instant,--"I always told you she was the woman for you."
+
+"Indeed I know it, old boy," said Vibbard, heartily.
+
+He rose, came to his old college-mate and took hold of his disengaged
+arm with both hands, affectionately.
+
+"Look here," he added; "there's been something queer and dismal about
+seeing each other, after such a long interval,--something awkward
+about this settlement between us. If I've done anything to hurt your
+feelings, Thorny, I'm sorry. Let's make an end of the trouble here and
+now, and be to each other just as we used to be. What do you say?"
+
+"I say you're a good, true-hearted fellow, as you always were, and I
+want you to promise that we shall keep up our old feeling forever."
+
+"There's no need of any promise but this," said Vibbard, as they
+clasped hands.
+
+"Now, tell me one thing," resumed Silverthorn; "did it never occur to
+you, in all these six years, that I, who have been living in the
+daily company of the girl you love, might cross your prospect?"
+
+For a second or two Vibbard's eyelids, which fell powerless while he
+listened, remained shut, and a shock of pain seemed to strike downward
+from the brain, across his face and through his whole stalwart frame.
+
+"It's your turn to hurt me," he said, slowly, as he looked at his
+friend again. "Have you any idea how that bare suggestion cut into
+me?"
+
+"I think I have," said Silverthorn, mechanically. He remained very
+pale. "But I see, from the way it struck you, that you had never
+thought of it before. That relieves me. Give me your hand once more,
+Bill." Then he explained, hurriedly, that he must go to the mill for a
+few moments. "If I'm not back to tea, don't wait. The girl will come
+up and give it to you. And mind you don't go over to the Winwoods'"
+(this with a laugh); "I wish to give them a little warning of your
+visit."
+
+In a moment he was gone. Vibbard amused himself as well as he could
+with the books and drawings in the room; then he sat down, looked all
+about the place, and sighed:
+
+"Poor fellow! he can be more comfortable now."
+
+Before long the tea hour came. Thorny had not returned, and he took
+the meal alone, watching the sunset out of the window. But by and by
+he grew restless, and finally, taking his hat and his cane, which had
+an odd-shaped handle made of two carved snakes at once embracing and
+wounding one another, he went out and strolled across the bridge
+toward the Winwoods'. By the time he reached there dusk had closed in,
+though the horizon afar off was overhung by a faint, stirring light
+from the rising moon. He remembered Silverthorn's injunction, however,
+and would not go into the cottage.
+
+He passed the lilac-hedge, with its half-pathetic exhalations of
+delicious odor recalling the past, and was prompted to step through a
+break in the stone wall and ascend the orchard slope.
+
+He stood there a few minutes enjoying the hush of nightfall and
+exulting in the full tide of happiness and sweet anticipation that
+streamed silently through his veins. All about him stole up the soft
+and secret perfumes of the summer's dusk,--perfumes that feel their
+way through the air like the monitions of early love, going out from
+one soul to another.
+
+Suddenly, a side-door in the house below was opened, and two figures
+came forth as if borne upon the flood of genial light that poured
+itself over the greensward.
+
+They were Silverthorn and Ida.
+
+How graceful they looked, moving together,--the buoyant, beautiful
+maiden and the slender-shaped young man, who even at a distance
+impressed one with something ideal in his pose and motion! Vibbard
+looked at them with a bewildered, shadowy sort of pleasure; but all at
+once he saw that Silverthorn held Ida's hand in his and had laid his
+other hand on her shoulder. A frightful tumult of feeling assailed
+him. The small, carved serpents on his stick seemed suddenly to drive
+their fangs into his own palm, as he clutched the handle tighter.
+
+For an instant he hesitated and hoped. Then the pair, passing along
+below the broken wall, came within ear-shot, and he heard his old boon
+comrade saying, in a pleading voice:
+
+"But you have never quite promised me, Ida! You have never fully
+engaged yourself to me."
+
+Partly from a feeling of strangulation, partly with a blind impulse to
+do something violent, Vibbard clutched himself about the throat, tore
+furiously at his collar till it gave way, and, in a paroxysm little
+short of madness, he turned and fled--he did not know where nor
+how--through the darkness.
+
+It seemed to him for a long time as if he was marching and reeling on
+through the woods, stumbling over roots and fallen trunks, breaking
+out into open fields upon the full run, then pursuing a road, or
+rambling hopelessly down by the ebon-hued river,--and as if he was
+doing all this with some great and urgent purpose of rescuing somebody
+from a terrible fate. He must go on foot,--there was no other
+way,--and everything depended on his getting to a certain point by a
+certain time. The worst of it was, he did not know where it was that
+he must go to! Then, all at once, he became aware that he had made a
+mistake. It was not some one else who was to be saved. It was
+_himself_. He must rescue himself--
+
+From what?
+
+At this, he came to a pause and tried to think. He stood on a
+commanding spot, somewhere not far from Stansby, though he could not
+identify it. The moon was up, and the wide, leafy landscape was spread
+out in utter silence for miles around him. For a brief space, while
+collecting his thoughts, he saw everything as it was. Then, as if
+at the stroke of a wand, horrible deformity appeared to fall upon
+the whole scene; the thousand trees below him writhed as if in
+multitudinous agony; and, where the thick moonlight touched house or
+road, or left patches of white on river and pool, there the earth
+seemed smitten as with leprosy. Silverthorn, reaching his room in an
+hour after Vibbard had left it, was not at first surprised at his
+absence. Afterward he grew anxious; he went out, ran all the way to
+Winwood's house, and came back, hoping to find that his friend had
+returned while he was searching for him. He sat down and waited; he
+kept awake very late; his head grew heavy, and he fell asleep in his
+chair, dreaming with a dull sense of pain, and also of excitement,
+about his new access of comparative wealth.
+
+A heavy step and the turning of the door-knob awoke him. Moonlight
+came in at the window--pale, for the dawn was breaking--and his lamp
+still flickered on the table. Streaked with these conflicting
+glimmers, Vibbard stood before him,--his clothes torn, his hat gone,
+his face pale and fierce.
+
+"What have you been doing?" asked Silverthorn wearily, and without
+surprise, for he was too much dazed.
+
+"You--_you_!" said Vibbard, hoarsely, pointing sharply at him, as if
+his livid gaze was not enough. "You have been taking her from me!"
+
+"Ida?" queried Silverthorn, with what seemed to the other to be a
+laughing sneer.
+
+"Are you shameless?" demanded Vibbard. "Why don't you lie down there
+and ask me to forgive you for demanding so little? I've no doubt you
+are sorry that you couldn't get the whole of my money! But I suppose
+you were afraid you wouldn't receive even the half, if you told me
+beforehand what you meant to do."
+
+Silverthorn was numb from sleeping in a cramped posture and without
+covering; but a deeper chill shook him at these words. He tried to get
+up, but felt too weak, and had to abandon it. He shivered heavily.
+Then he put his hand carefully into the breast of his coat, and after
+a moment drew out his pocket-book.
+
+"Here it is," said he, very quietly. "I came home intending to give
+you back your money, but you were not here."
+
+"You expect me to believe that?" retorted Vibbard, scornfully, "when
+I know that you went from here after receiving the check, and--ah! I
+couldn't have believed it, if I hadn't heard--"
+
+"You overheard us, then? You came, though I warned you not to? And
+what did you hear?" Silverthorn's lips certainly curled with contempt
+now.
+
+Vibbard answered: "I heard you pleading with Ida to promise herself to
+you."
+
+"That's a lie," said Silverthorn, calmly.
+
+"Didn't you say to her, 'You have never yet fully engaged yourself to
+me?' Weren't you pleading?"
+
+"Yes. I was begging that she would forget all the words of love I had
+ever spoken, and listen to you when you should come to tell her your
+story."
+
+Vibbard's head bowed itself in humiliation and wonder. He came forward
+two or three steps, and sank into a chair.
+
+"Is this possible?" he inquired, at last.
+
+"And you, too, had loved her!"
+
+Silverthorn vouchsafed no reply.
+
+Vibbard, struggling with remorse, uncertainty, and a dimly returning
+hope, brought himself to speak once more, hesitatingly.
+
+"What did she say?"
+
+"At first she would not tolerate my proposal. I saw there was a
+conflict in her mind. Something warned me what it was, yet I could not
+help fancying that she might really be unwilling to give me up. So
+then I said I had made up my mind any way, as things stood, to return
+you your money. I--forgive me, Bill, but it was not treachery to
+you--only justice to all--I asked her if she would wish to marry me as
+I was, poor and without a future."
+
+"And she--" asked Vibbard, trembling. "What did she say?"
+
+Silverthorn let the pocket-book fall, and buried his face in his
+hands. It was answer enough for his friend.
+
+Vibbard came over and knelt beside him, and tried to rouse him. He
+stroked his pale brown hair, and called him repeatedly "Dear old boy."
+
+"Poor Thorny, I wish I could do something for you," he said, gently.
+"Are you sure you understood her?"
+
+The other suddenly looked up.
+
+"Don't blame her, Bill," he said, beseechingly. "Don't let it hurt
+your love for her. There was nothing mercenary. She hesitated a
+moment--and then I saw that it had all been a dream of the impossible.
+I had always associated this money with myself. It turned back the
+whole current of her ideas, and upset everything, when I separated
+myself from it. All the plans of going away--all that life I had
+talked of--had to be scattered to the winds in a moment. She did not
+love me enough, for myself alone!"
+
+"Poor Thorny!" again murmured his friend.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Love, amid all its other resemblances, is like the spirit of battle.
+It fires men to press on toward the goal, even though a brother by
+their side, pushing in the same direction, should fall with a mortal
+wound. And the fighter goes on, to wed with victory, while his brother
+lies dead far behind cheated of his bride.
+
+Vibbard offered himself to Ida the next day. It was a strange and
+distressful wooing; but she could not deny that, in a way unknown to
+herself till now, she had loved Vibbard from the beginning, more than
+his friend. In her semi-engagement with Silverthorn, she had probably
+been loving Vibbard through his friend. But when the strong man, who
+had gained a place in the world for her sake, returned and placed his
+heart before her, she could no longer make a mistake.
+
+Silverthorn would not keep the money, neither could his friend
+persuade him to come and take a share in his business. He would not
+leave Stansby. Where he had first seen Ida, there he resolved to
+dwell, with the memory of her.
+
+When I saw him again, and he told me of this crisis, he said:
+
+"I am not 'poor Thorny,' as Vibbard called me; for now I have a
+friendship that will last me through life. It has stood the test of
+money, and hate, and love, and it is stronger than them all."
+
+
+
+
+POOR OGLA-MOGA.
+
+BY DAVID D. LLOYD.
+
+_Harper's Magazine, April, 1882._
+
+
+                         I.
+
+It was a great day when Miss Slopham, so many years conspicuous in our
+best society, discovered the North American Indian--not for the
+Indian, perhaps, but certainly for Miss Slopham. Envious and
+slanderous tongues said that Miss Slopham was afflicted with an
+ambition. She wanted a mission--not a foreign mission, in any sense of
+the words. She was debarred from one kind by her sex, and the other
+involved the possibility of crocodiles and yellow fever, not to
+mention the chance of being sacrificed to some ugly heathen god. She
+could not paint, or write, or sing. The stage had never offered any
+attractions to her, for various reasons, one of which was, so said the
+same untrustworthy authority, that she had never offered any
+attractions to the stage. She was tall and spare, and of a dry and
+autumnal aspect. She wanted fame, but she wanted it respectable.
+Therefore it was, said gossip, that this excellent woman turned to
+philanthropy. Even here her fate was against her. If she had not been
+a woman, she would have mourned the ill-luck that brought her into the
+world rather late for the anti-slavery agitation. The malicious rumor,
+by-the-way, which declared that she wore a bib and tucker at the time
+of Jackson's war with the United States Bank, was wickedly false. Miss
+Slopham tried tenement-house reform, but fled before the smells. She
+had a little practice in the hospitals and orphan asylums, but found
+the sphere too contracted. She felt that she needed the stimulus of
+public approval. She was almost in despair, when, as if by accident,
+her eye lighted on the North American Indian. For centuries he had
+been chasing the buffalo and the white man, shooting and being shot,
+taking up the tomahawk and perishing by the rifle, robbing and being
+robbed, massacring and pillaging whenever massacre and pillage suited
+his grim humor, and being all this while alternately pampered and
+starved, cajoled and cheated, by a government which at the same time
+that it furnished him with guns for shooting its own soldiers, often
+failed to fulfil the solemn treaties it had made with him.
+
+He had been having this lively and variegated experience for a century
+or so, without any intimation, prophetic or present, of Miss Slopham's
+existence, when that lady discovered him, and when that happened she
+exclaimed: "He is mine!" Hers, she meant, for the purposes of
+philanthropy. Wicked tongues had suggested that in Miss Slopham's
+philanthropy distance lent enchantment to the view.
+
+Only a day or two later, and before she had had time to form any
+plans, the postman brought a letter with the postmark of St. Louis. It
+read as follows:
+
+                         "ST. LOUIS, _October 20, 1881_.
+
+     "MY DEAR MISS SLOPHAM,--I want to make an appeal to your
+     benevolence, which I know never fails in case of need. There
+     is in this city at this moment, in hiding, at the house of
+     one of our friends, a poor persecuted Kickapoo. A Kickapoo
+     is an Indian, you know. He has fled from his reservation
+     because, he says, he cannot endure any longer the
+     persecutions and wrongs he has received at the hands of the
+     agent who has charge of the tribe. This agent must be a very
+     bad man. Poor Ogla-Moga--that is his name; it means
+     Young-man-who-digs-up-seed-potatoes-and-feeds-them-to-his-pony,
+     he says, but we call him by his Indian name because it's so
+     much prettier--says that this agent has repeatedly refused
+     to let them go hunting, which is the only amusement the poor
+     things have, on the miserable pretext that the hay must be
+     got in; and he once took away the gun of one of the
+     Kickapoos because he pretended to believe that the man had
+     shot a settler, whereas there was no proof of it at all,
+     except, Ogla-Moga says, that the man died soon after the gun
+     went off. Ogla-Moga says nothing wounds the self-respect of
+     an Indian so deeply as to take his gun away from him, and we
+     have all felt a great deal of sympathy with that poor
+     insulted Kickapoo. Isn't it a shame that a great government
+     should deliberately and maliciously oppress these
+     unfortunate and high-spirited people?
+
+     "But I had almost forgotten what it was that I had to ask.
+     Poor dear Ogla-Moga--he is so quiet and gentle and sad that
+     we have all really grown fond of him--says that it won't be
+     safe for him to stay here: the officers will soon be after
+     him for having left his reservation. Now we have arranged to
+     send him eastward with Mr. Michst. He is the new lecturer
+     before our Ethical Circle, which meets every Sunday in Azure
+     Hall. I read a paper there last Sunday, called, 'Is there
+     Anything?' which Mr. Michst says contains the most
+     triumphant series of negations he ever heard. He says I
+     completely disprove the existence of everything, including
+     many things we all know to be true. My friends in the Circle
+     are begging me to publish it, and I think of doing so, under
+     the title of 'The Everlasting No Indeed.'
+
+     "But I am wandering again. When Mr. Michst brings Ogla-Moga
+     to you, can't you get him shelter somewhere? Mr. Michst
+     thinks of taking him on to Washington, so that he may lay
+     the whole matter before the President. We have all been
+     studying this Indian question for the last ten days, and we
+     are convinced that the whole trouble is that the President
+     doesn't understand it. Mr. Michst feels sure that if the
+     President will give him, say, three days of his time, he can
+     make it perfectly clear to him. Please answer by telegraph.
+
+                    "Your friend,
+                         "CLARA O. VERRAUGHT."
+
+Now Miss Slopham lived in a neat and aesthetic apartment in a
+fashionable apartment-house, and it might have been supposed that she
+was hardly prepared to set up an asylum for fugitive Kickapoos. But
+that intrepid woman never faltered. Her answer went whirling by wire
+before she had paused to think of the ways and means of caring for
+poor Ogla-Moga.
+
+                         "_October 23._
+
+     "_Miss Clara O. Verraught, St. Louis, Missouri_:
+
+     "Let him come at once, and send his Indian costumes with
+     him. I have a special reason for this request.
+
+                         "AMELIA SLOPHAM."
+
+Miss Slopham formed a plan. What it was will presently appear.
+
+
+                         II.
+
+Not many mornings after, there was the sound of a strange footstep in
+Miss Slopham's kitchen, and Bridget emitted a half-shriek. "Mither of
+Moses! what's that?" It was Ogla-Moga, who had just arrived. His
+costume was an extraordinary mixture of blanket and trousers and coat,
+hardly consistent with the requirements of civilization. A broad
+slouched hat hid his coarse black locks, and cast a friendly shadow
+over his piercing eyes and swarthy face.
+
+"Here, Bridget," said Miss Slopham, "get some breakfast for
+this--a--a--gentleman at once." Miss Slopham was not accustomed to
+meeting Indians in a social way. She hardly knew whether to call him
+chief; she thought wildly for a moment of sheik; but compromised upon
+gentleman.
+
+To Bridget's astonishment, her mistress hovered about while the
+strange dark man gobbled his food and glared upon her with his wild
+eyes. Still another stranger had come in with them; but this one wore
+the garments of civilization as if he were used to them. He was a bald
+young man--in fact, one of the baldest young men that ever was seen.
+He seemed to be bald all over. He had no ascertainable eyebrows, or
+eyelashes, or hair, and this, with his bright, fresh complexion and
+his big spectacles, gave him a very unworldly appearance.
+
+"Oh, Miss Slobham," he said, "I haf been so much mofed wid de story of
+dis poor Indian! He iss a shild of nature. He hass been so quiet, and
+so goot and so sad! I haf talked to him by de hour, and he hass not
+interroopted me vonce. I haf exblained to him the viewss of our
+Ettical Surkle upon de future state, and he hass listened so
+attentifely, and ven I haf looked at him I haf found dat he wass
+asleep. Oh, his sleep wass so benign! I haf vept; I could not hellp
+it. He iss a shild of nature;" and good Mr. Michst wiped a tear from
+his eye.
+
+"Good! good!" grunted Ogla-Moga, as he put a block of beefsteak in his
+mouth without the formality of a fork.
+
+"He hass eaten all de vay from St. Louis to here, and he never seem to
+haf enough," said Mr. Michst, in awe, looking at Ogla-Moga very much
+as one might at the phenomenon of a menagerie.
+
+"Poor creatures! I've often heard that their supplies were sometimes
+cut off for months at a time. I suppose this is a case of that kind.
+Ogla-Moga," said Miss Slopham, addressing him with her most reassuring
+and eleemosynary smile, "does the government feed you often,
+you--a--poor Indians?"
+
+"Not had--what you call it?--round meal--no, square meal," the Indian
+replied, making an explanatory parallelogram with his hands, "in four
+moons."
+
+"Moonss?--moonss? What does he mean by moonss?"
+
+Before the lady had time to make sure of her own knowledge on the
+subject, Ogla-Moga began a wild and mysterious pantomime, which caused
+Bridget, who had her eye steadily on the strange monster, and kept
+close to the window as an avenue of desperate retreat, to exclaim:
+"Mither of Moses! what's the baste going to do?" Ogla-Moga was
+throwing his arm up in the air with a fierce swing, suddenly crooking
+his elbow, and bringing his closed hand to his mouth, while he rolled
+his eyes around the room with a melodramatic ferocity, evidently
+intended to convey the idea of extreme rapture.
+
+"Poor Ogla-Moga!" said Miss Slopham; "he wants something to drink.
+Give him a glass of ice-water, Bridget, and have it perfectly clear.
+It may remind him of the water he used to drink from the brooks of his
+far-off forest home;" and here Miss Slopham, in her turn, wiped a tear
+from her eye. Indeed, the crystal particle was apparently so surprised
+to find itself on the good lady's cheek that it seemed to disappear of
+its own accord.
+
+Ogla-Moga looked at the innocent glass of Croton that was handed him
+with undisguised disdain; but he swallowed his thoughts, whatever they
+were, with the water, and signified that his meal was ended.
+
+And now for the first time the extent of the task she had undertaken
+became apparent to Miss Slopham. What was to be done with this
+terrible infant from the prairies during the week of seclusion that
+her plan made necessary? She lived alone, except for the companionship
+of Bridget, and it was asking a good deal of a timid and shrinking
+nature like Miss Slopham's to take into her little household a
+gentleman who rolled his eyes in such an alarming manner. Then, too,
+there were the proprieties, against which sins could not be committed
+even in the name of reform. Yet what else was there to be done? He
+could not be sent to a hotel: that meant publicity, and perhaps
+recapture by the emissaries of a cruel and unsympathetic government.
+She could not ask a friend to take him in. He could not be sent
+anywhere without danger. Finally a brilliant thought struck her
+just as she was on the verge of distraction, with Ogla-Moga's big
+eyes fastened on her all the while. There was the janitor of the
+apartment-house. He might easily be induced to take a boarder, and he
+would be discreet. Ogla-Moga could be kept in retirement in his rooms.
+She would act at once upon the idea. And yet what was she to say? How
+was she to account for the presence of this stranger in her little
+household? Ah! he needed clothes. His present costume was an
+impossible one. She would begin with this subject with the janitor's
+wife, and feel her way gradually. So she made her way to the top of
+the house.
+
+It would be hard to say who was in the greatest flutter when the
+janitor's door was opened upon her, Miss Slopham, whose maiden bosom
+was agitated with strange embarrassments, or Mrs. Doherty, who was not
+accustomed to receive calls from the ladies of the house. The former
+was so confused that she walked against a chair and knocked it over,
+gave a little scream, and stepped on the baby, which was sprawling on
+the floor, whereat the baby screamed, and she screamed, and Mrs.
+Doherty screamed--all of which did not tend to diminish the mental
+excitement of either of the ladies, especially as Mrs. Doherty had up
+to that moment been trying to dust off a chair with one hand while she
+held another baby with the other arm, and motioned with her head to a
+little girl--or perhaps she ought to be called a baby--who had charge
+of still two other babies, to take them out of the room. Poor Miss
+Slopham thought she had never seen so many babies in her life before,
+and the spectacle somehow only increased her bewilderment. So perhaps
+it was not to be wondered at that when she had sunk into a chair she
+should begin the conversation with the extraordinary and utterly
+unprecedented question:
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Doherty, could you--a--could you--a--lend me--a--a pair of
+pantaloons?"
+
+"A pair of what, Miss Slopham?" said the astounded Mrs. Doherty, in a
+low voice which expressed both the proper deference of the janitor's
+wife and the natural amazement of the woman.
+
+"Oh, of course, I--I didn't mean to say that," poor Miss Slopham
+stammered, in hopeless embarrassment. "The fact is, there's a
+gentleman down-stairs--a friend of mine, you know--he has no home, and
+very few clothes--and I want to get you to help me. He's down-stairs
+now, and he's going to stay--I don't see how I am going to help
+it--and I must get a suit of clothes for him this afternoon. I suppose
+you think this is all very queer," said the poor lady in breathless
+confusion, with a little nervous laugh, thinking to herself at the
+same time that it certainly _was_ very queer.
+
+"I'm not at all sure that I understand ye, ma'am," said the bewildered
+woman, looking about her in an alarmed sort of way, as if she wondered
+whether Miss Slopham was quite a safe woman to be alone with.
+
+"Oh, how can I explain it?" that lady cried, desperately. "Well," she
+said, drawing a long breath, "let's begin at the beginning. Of course
+you understand that I don't want any such clothes for myself?"
+
+"No, ma'am, I suppose not," murmured Mrs. Doherty, evidently
+suspecting that the other was slightly insane.
+
+"Well, I wanted to ask you about them, because I thought your husband
+might have some clothes he did not want. I'd pay him a good price for
+them, and they needn't be very good"--and again Miss Slopham struck
+that terrible snag of the conversation--"I want them for a gentleman
+who's got into trouble; I can't tell you what it is, but he's got to
+keep out of the way of people. And the thing I wanted to ask you most,
+Mrs. Doherty," she said, in a pleading voice, conscious that she was
+twisting it all into a sad snarl, "was whether I couldn't get you and
+Mr. Doherty to take him to board up here with you for a while," and
+here the good lady sighed a sigh of relief in spite of her misery and
+confusion. She had at last let the cat out of the bag.
+
+Mrs. Doherty's eyes were growing very large. The man needed new
+clothes; must have them that afternoon; there was a reason for his
+keeping out of the way; Miss Slopham would not tell what it was; the
+man had got into trouble. The idea grew bigger and bigger in Mrs.
+Doherty's mind, until at last it burst out with,
+
+"But is it a jail-bird ye've got there, ma'am?"
+
+"No, no," cried Miss Slopham, badly frightened in her turn at the
+other's fear. "How could you think such a thing? He's a gentleman, you
+know; quite an important man where he comes from. There are reasons
+why I can't tell you who he is. He doesn't want anybody to know it
+either. But a jail-bird! why, wait till you see him, Mrs. Doherty. He
+looks so gentle, and he's really handsome."
+
+Mrs. Doherty looked at Miss Slopham. Miss Slopham was a wealthy
+tenant, and paid a large rent, and Mrs. Doherty was only the janitor's
+wife. But, after all, Mrs. Doherty was a woman, and Miss Slopham was a
+woman also, and Mrs. Doherty looked at Miss Slopham in the way in
+which only a woman can look at another woman; looked at her gray and
+withered curls, and at her face, which had never, in the spring-time
+of Miss Slopham's youth, been the kind of face which painters
+celebrate and poets embalm in verse, and said nothing. What she may
+have thought, or whether she thought anything, was a matter of little
+consequence, for when the richer lady came to mention the terms at
+which she rated the hospitality of the Doherty household, Mrs. Doherty
+showed a positive anxiety to oblige her, and even murmured something
+about being glad to do anything in their power for such a kind lady.
+
+Now began a week of agony for Miss Slopham. Ogla-Moga was duly
+installed in the Doherty apartment, and duly invested with a suit of
+Mr. Doherty's clothes. But the taste for roving was still strong upon
+him. The inner life of an apartment-house seemed to arouse all his
+savage curiosity, and the fact that the entrance to every apartment
+looked like the entrance to every other apartment gave rise to some
+disagreeable complications. In the second floor front, for example, a
+skirmish with a view to matrimony had long been in progress between
+the daughter of the family, Miss Josephine Ayr, and Mr. Margent, of
+the young and prosperous stock-broking firm of Margent & Bar, and the
+decisive engagement was plainly near at hand. The progress of the
+acquaintanceship had been watched with an interest not altogether
+friendly by the second floor back, while Miss Slopham had deigned to
+catch such neutral and impartial glimpses of it as she could over the
+stairs from the third floor front. In fact, the second floor back, who
+bore the name of Pound, had in an unguarded moment introduced Mr.
+Margent to the second floor front, and had then in silent rage seen
+him borne away from them by Miss Josephine. Perhaps this was to be
+accounted for by the fact that the two marriageable daughters in the
+second floor back had been offered, to use the coarse expression of
+the young stock-broker, "with no takers" for a series of years, and
+perhaps by the bold and shocking manners of Miss Josephine, which were
+often the subject of remark in the Pound household, where the opinion
+was frequently heard that it was difficult to understand how old Mrs.
+Ayr could keep so cheerful with a daughter whose behavior was the
+scandal of all her acquaintances. By one of those unaccountable
+coincidences which will occur in apartment-houses, the remarks of the
+Ayrs about the Pounds were repeated to the Pounds, while at the same
+time the remarks of the Pounds about the Ayrs were repeated to the
+Ayrs, the result being that Miss Josephine said that it must be a
+great satisfaction to Mrs. Pound to feel that she would probably
+always have her daughters with her, especially as they were already of
+an age to have many tastes in common with her, and the Misses Pound
+said that it was truly painful to see people who had once been very
+wealthy reduced in circumstances, like the Ayrs, for example, and
+that both families were carefully polite when they met.
+
+Now Mr. Margent was thought to be on the point of declaring himself,
+and when he appeared one afternoon his intentions were obvious. He
+was, if possible, more scrupulously dressed than ever. His clothes,
+trimly cut in the latest style, were new and spotless. His plump, not
+to say puffy, face, of an overfed white, was as smooth-shaven as ever.
+His plentiful watch-chain and his elegant shoes and his expensive
+stockings were, if possible, more plentiful and elegant and expensive
+than ever. When Miss Josephine appeared in a fresh costume, his small
+gray eyes revolved about her with an appearance of sluggish
+satisfaction which for him was almost animation.
+
+"Business," said he--"business's been splendid this year. Tip-top. C.
+B. & Q. brought us in ten thousand at one clip the other day. Fact;"
+and Mr. Margent paused for a fresh supply of ideas.
+
+"How nice that is!" said Miss Josephine, gently, with a shade of
+tender appreciation in her voice.
+
+"But it costs a dreadful deal to live. We all live at hotels, you
+know--all the boys. And then a fellow has to have his cab: all
+the boys have cabs. And then we've got to have clothes. But I'm
+economizing on that. I cut myself down to twenty suits last year. I
+don't see any use of a fellow's having more than twenty suits;" and
+Mr. Margent paused again, intellectually out of breath.
+
+"I think you're a very extravagant creature," said the charming Miss
+Josephine, playfully shaking her finger at him. "If you had a wife to
+take care of you, you wouldn't be allowed to spend so much money."
+
+"Well, do you know, I've been thinking of getting married. I was
+talking with the boys about it the other day. I said I believed a man
+could support a wife on seven thousand a year--keeping a fellow's cab,
+and staying at the hotel, you know, and all that sort of thing"--he
+hastened to add, with a little anxiety in his voice. "The boys bet I
+couldn't, and I bet I could, and I believe it was then that I really
+made up my mind to get married. Don't you believe it could be done on
+that?" Mr. Margent found himself the subject of a suffusion of ideas,
+and had the appearance of being surprised at his own gifts.
+
+Miss Josephine was of the opinion, in a low voice, and with an
+expression of intense interest in the lace in her sleeve, that it
+could be done for that.
+
+"Well, now," said the ardent youth, moving over to the sofa where she
+was sitting, and settling himself down beside her, "why shouldn't we
+get married? You're just the kind of girl I like--tip-top, you know. I
+like a girl with style about her. Come, say yes." And here the crude
+outlines of something like a joke, for the first time in Mr. Margent's
+history, began to be visible to him in the dim recesses of his obese
+mind. "Let's make it buyer sixty days," and he laughed until his small
+eyes almost closed.
+
+"And what's buyer sixty days, you horrid man?"
+
+"Why, don't you know that? I should have thought you'd know that. It's
+when the buyer has sixty days to call for the stock. Let's get married
+in sixty days, and we'll invite all the boys."
+
+Poor Miss Josephine! Was this her romance? She had not counted on
+much--but was this all? She was a sensible and practical girl,
+however, and the instructions of an excellent mother had not been lost
+upon her. She yielded herself to the embrace of this winsome wooer,
+her head drooped upon his shoulder, and he was just about to collect
+the dividend of a kiss, when the hall door swung open with a crash,
+and no other than Ogla-Moga plunged into the room, with a bundle
+intended for Miss Slopham. It was Ogla-Moga's unfortunate peculiarity
+that all floors were alike to him, and likewise all interiors. He
+stood in the dark hallway glaring with amazement upon the bewildered
+couple. Miss Josephine screamed, and Mr. Margent swore with actual
+animation. Ogla-Moga grew still more excited. He had learned enough of
+civilized life to know that strangers and intruders were objects of
+suspicion.
+
+"G'out! g'out!" he roared, with his voice at prairie pitch. "G'out! or
+I put you out!"
+
+Miss Josephine screamed again; her estimable mother rushed in by the
+door leading to the bedrooms, followed by three children, all beside
+themselves with curiosity and wonder, and Mr. Ayr himself appeared in
+the doorway leading to the dining-room, in a state of respectable
+consternation; and last of all appeared the heads of the two Misses
+Pound in the hallway outside, uttering simultaneously, with many
+deprecatory little bobs, the same words, to the effect that they
+thought perhaps some one was hurt, all of which only increased the
+wrath of Ogla-Moga, more than ever convinced that something was wrong.
+
+"You no belong here!" he cried, swinging his arms wildly about. "This
+wigwam belongs gray squaw!"
+
+Miss Josephine always persisted in believing that Ogla-Moga had first
+gone to the Pound door, and that the Misses Pound, who knew only too
+well that Mr. Margent was calling upon her, had sent him to the other.
+But if it were true, she had a real woman's revenge. She had no sooner
+descried them in the doorway than with wonderful presence of mind she
+fainted straight into Mr. Margent's arms, much to that gentleman's
+astonishment. It was a master-stroke. The Misses Pound disappeared as
+suddenly as if they had been pictures from a magic lantern, and had
+been slid off the screen. Mrs. Ayr at once looked more cheerful, and
+Mr. Ayr began an insane effort to remove Ogla-Moga from the premises,
+in which it would have gone ill with him had it not been for a sudden
+vision of curl-papers and gray hair behind the Indian. His name was
+called in a voice he was accustomed to hear, he turned away, the door
+was banged to upon his heels, and the tableau closed.
+
+The very next day Mrs. Gottom of the third floor back was to
+give a dinner party to the distinguished Italian musician, Signor
+Barbazzo. Mrs. Gottom was known among the irreverent young men of her
+acquaintance as "the menagerie woman." Her favorite exclamation was,
+"I must have a fresh lion," and visitors to her apartment were always
+sure of beholding the latest leonine specimens landed on these shores.
+Signor Barbazzo's freshness made him a _rarus leo_. He was famous, and
+all the world was waiting for him, but he had not yet appeared in
+public. As a cruel fate would have it, Mrs. Gottom fell sick the very
+day set for the dinner, and was compelled to resign her place as
+hostess to her pretty and simple-hearted niece, Miss Tristan, who had
+never seen Signor Barbazzo. As fate would also have it, that gentleman
+himself fell sick, and being in the habit of doing as he pleased among
+the barbarians of the West, sent no excuses. As fate would still have
+it, Ogla-Moga, taking the wrong door as usual, strolled into Mrs.
+Gottom's drawing-room, which happened to be empty, about an hour
+before dinner, settled himself in a luxurious arm-chair in the middle
+of the room, and--fell asleep. Half an hour later, pretty Miss
+Tristan came rustling into the room with her coolest and sweetest
+dress on. She gave a start of surprise when she saw a man there,
+stepped forward, thinking that it was the distinguished guest himself,
+stopped again, seeing that he was fast asleep, and then taking a swift
+woman's glance at him, sped softly out of the room.
+
+"Aunty, what do you think?" said she, breathlessly, running into that
+lady's room. "Signor Barbazzo is in the parlor, sound asleep in the
+big chair!"
+
+"What are you saying, child? Signor Barbazzo in the parlor asleep!
+Nonsense!"
+
+"But it must be he. Who else can it be? Hasn't he got long black
+hair?"
+
+"Yes. And no beard or mustache? and a swarthy complexion?"
+
+"Yes, yes."
+
+"Well," said the aunt, wearily, "I suppose he has come in tired. Doing
+what he pleases, as they all do. But he mustn't be disturbed, on any
+account. I wish I was there to manage him. The other day at Mrs.
+Vicar's he went away in the middle of the dinner because the macaroni
+wasn't right. He'll do something dreadful, I suppose. Now be sure.
+_Don't_ begin by making him cross. So if he should sleep an hour, keep
+the people quiet at all hazards, and let him sleep two hours if he
+wants to."
+
+Poor Miss Tristan went back to the post of duty oppressed with a great
+responsibility. The servant was stationed at the door to prevent any
+ringing of the bell, and as the guests came in one by one, they were
+warned in whispers not to rouse the sleeping lion. Very soon Mrs.
+Gottom's drawing-room presented a striking example of the homage due
+to genius. The guests stood about in little groups, conversing in the
+most timid whispers, and even making signs take the place of language,
+glancing every moment at the supposed great man in the chair, who had
+his legs stretched out before him, his head thrown back, and was, if
+it must be confessed, snoring audibly, not to say visibly. There was
+Professor Phyle, the celebrated phrenologist--a tall man, with a gaunt
+face and long gray hair. He had been a lion once, but was now out of
+date. There were also present Mrs. Blenkin, a comparatively new
+soprano, having seen only two seasons; Lieutenant Wray, a lion just
+caught, or rather polar bear, having only then returned from a trip to
+the arctic regions, in which his ship had covered itself with glory; a
+young lady who had written a novel, and another who had written a
+poem, both unpublished, but both understood to be of a mysterious
+excellence; and others not necessary to mention. Even for these great
+people the chance to see a genius off his guard was not to be
+resisted. He seemed to be so soundly asleep that they might safely
+approach him. They tiptoed toward him, and hovered about him, holding
+their breath meanwhile. The ladies gazed at him longest, and seemed
+best satisfied with their inspection, with the exception of Professor
+Phyle, who was in raptures.
+
+"I have never," said he, in a blood-curdling whisper, and waving his
+hand toward the unconscious Ogla-Moga, while the guests gathered about
+to hear what his verdict would be, "seen a more distinctly musical
+face. It is remarkable. It ought to convert any skeptic to phrenology.
+The development of what we phrenologists call, for the sake of
+convenience, the organs of tune and time--just over and near the side
+of the eye--the fulness of the eyes, the exquisite mobility of the
+mouth, are fairly abno-or-r-mal," and here the learned professor's
+whisper made one's flesh creep. "And I have no doubt, if I could
+examine the organs which are concealed by those luxuriant locks"--and
+now the professor smiled his society smile, and his fingers rayed out
+toward the sleeping Indian's head in a nervous, eager way--"that I
+should find ideality, adhesiveness, time, hope, veneration, and so on,
+strongly developed, as in the case of the great composers." The ladies
+nodded at each other, and drew long breaths of astonishment.
+
+"I am glad," continued the professor, in his most approving manner,
+"that this little social incident"--but now the smile was more
+labored, and his eyebrows went up with less ease than usual, for, to
+tell the truth, the professor, like the rest of the company, was
+getting a little hungry--"should have given us an opportunity to make
+a scientific proof of his great genius."
+
+Meanwhile the lieutenant, who was a practical person, if he was a
+lion, bent toward the still snoring Ogla-Moga with his eyeglass.
+
+"It's a singular thing," said he, coming back, "but the face doesn't
+seem at all Italian to me. It's more like an Indian's face than that
+of any civilized man I ever saw."
+
+There was an indignant whisper of dissent all about.
+
+"How can you say so?" responded the professor. "There are centuries of
+culture and refinement in that face--the stern old Roman cast softened
+and modified by generation after generation of the artistic training
+and cultivation of modern Italy. I would venture to assert from this
+mere glance at his face that his fathers before him for a long way
+back were musicians, and I would pick him out from a crowd on Broadway
+as a genius in music. Why," said the professor, with as much of a
+flourish as he could get into a whisper, "his very nostrils convict
+him."
+
+It must be said that at that particular moment Ogla-Moga's nostrils
+were convicting him of a genius for music of a most discordant kind.
+He was snoring a profound snore whose chords could not be found in
+Beethoven or Rossini, nor even in Liszt or Wagner. Just as the
+professor finished his eulogy, there came a terrific rumble and
+rattle, and the Indian snored so loud that he fairly woke himself up.
+He raised himself up in the chair and looked about in speechless
+amazement. No one spoke. All were waiting, with the deference due to
+genius, to see what the great man would do, and were, at the same
+time, if it must be confessed, a little overcome with the novelty of
+the situation. His black eye ran quickly from one to the other, when
+it fell upon the uniform of Lieutenant Wray, assumed on that occasion
+by the express wish of his hostess. At that sight, which must have
+recalled to Ogla-Moga's mind the power and authority of the Government
+of the United States, a look of terror blanched his face, and darting
+up, he fled through the open door into the hall, and disappeared,
+leaving behind him the impression that the eccentricity of
+distinguished Italian musicians is past finding out.
+
+
+                         III.
+
+Of many other of the deeds of Ogla-Moga--of how he imprisoned three
+estimable old ladies in the elevator, and before they were released
+had frightened them into hysterics; of how he at first took the
+milkman to be a brother Indian, and regularly for a time answered his
+morning howl with a terrifying war-whoop; of how he kept the house in
+turmoil by ringing an electric bell wherever he could find one, in
+doing which he took a childish delight--there is no need to speak
+here. Happily for Miss Slopham, it so came about that Ogla-Moga was
+rescued from all his scrapes without the responsibility for him being
+traced to her, and without her secret being discovered, although many
+complaints poured into the office of the carelessness by which strange
+and dreadful men were allowed to get into the house--a subject,
+however, on which the landlord could never get any satisfactory
+information from Mr. Doherty. Happily for Miss Slopham again, the week
+of trial was almost ended. She had issued invitations to a reception
+for a Thursday evening, at which she caused it to be understood a
+paper would be read upon an important reform question. Many of her
+friends in the apartment-house were included in the bidding to this
+feast of reason. The evening had arrived, and she was seated in her
+reception-room, talking to the first-comer--a very tall and grave
+gentleman with solemn long hair. This was Mr. Blagg, the well-known
+newspaper correspondent. He was a most ingenious and laborious writer.
+Having accumulated a certain amount of information, he wrote it out on
+Monday to a paper in the far West, and on Tuesday to another paper in
+the far East, varying the mixture somewhat, and on Wednesday varying
+it again to a paper in the North, and on Thursday to a paper in the
+South, giving the kaleidoscope of gossip still another shake. If it be
+true that a stamp of the foot displaces every atom of the globe, and
+that a word, once spoken, never ceases to reverberate through the
+universe, the intellectual atmosphere must have been disorganized with
+the clash and confusion of Mr. Blagg's contributions to contemporary
+history. But Mr. Blagg was also a general literary workman. He took
+contracts to write articles, pamphlets, and books, as a lawyer takes
+cases--not on their merits, but for the fee. If it must be admitted,
+he had written Miss Slopham's paper on the wrongs of the Indian, for a
+pecuniary compensation, for that lady was far from being a literary
+person.
+
+"Oh, it is so strong, Mr. Blagg," she was saying, "so noble, and the
+array of facts is so overwhelming! Where did you get them? Oh, what a
+power your pen is!"
+
+"Such as it is, Miss Slopham, it is always at your service;" and Mr.
+Blagg closed his eyes in a faint ecstasy. Unlike literary persons as a
+class, he was not reluctant to be openly appreciated. "As for the
+facts," he continued, "they were easily secured. I had occasion to
+write another article on the Indian question, taking an exactly
+opposite view, and I found that many of the facts, in the hands of a
+skilful artist, could be used in both articles. I have often found
+that plan beneficial. It economizes labor, gives exercise to all the
+intellectual faculties, and, where one can secure orders for a brace
+of documents to contradict each other, is, I may say"--and here Mr.
+Blagg coughed a little cough--"pleasant to the pocket."
+
+"But I want your help still further, dear Mr. Blagg. We must make this
+poor Indian's cause our own. We must agitate the matter. I hope that
+when this paper has been read to-night" (and Miss Slopham looked down
+at the roll in her lap), "you will be willing to write something about
+it to your papers. I want the influence of your pen to rouse the
+country."
+
+"I'll do what my pen enables me to do, Miss Slopham; and I will say
+that I think it is not without its effect," replied Mr. Blagg, with
+the conscious pride of a man who knew that public opinion would never
+get itself properly moulded without his help.
+
+"It will be painful for us, of course, to be involved in anything like
+notoriety, but" (and now a shade of lofty resignation passed over the
+lady's face), "we must bear it for the sake of the cause." Miss
+Slopham already called it "the cause."
+
+But the company had begun to assemble. Mr. Michst was there, having
+deprived the Ethical Circle of the benefit of his ministrations for an
+entire week in order to be present. Mr. and Mrs. Ayr were there, with
+Miss Josephine and her lover, who was heard to remark that this would
+be "great larks to tell the boys." The Misses Pound were also there,
+conveying in their looks their profound pity for a young man so sadly
+insnared. Mrs. Gottom was there, with her pretty niece, who looked, as
+really pretty girls always do, prettier than ever. Professor Phyle was
+there, and Mrs. Blenkin. But Lieutenant Wray had not been able to
+accept Miss Slopham's invitation. There were besides a considerable
+number of persons of limited celebrity, most of them fierce hobby
+riders, who, instead of leaving those unruly animals at home in their
+luxurious stalls, or outside of their friends' houses, as the instinct
+of politeness might have suggested, rode them boldly into the parlors
+of the best society, and ran them at full gallop into the midst of any
+conversation, so that often no sound could be heard but the noise of
+their hoofs. Of the number and kind of these hobbies there is no need
+here to speak, but when there were so many gathered into a single
+place, the neighing and snorting, the champing of conversational bits,
+and the pounding of huge and heavy feet were curious to behold and to
+hear.
+
+And Ogla-Moga? Now the native costumes were coming into play, and Miss
+Slopham's long martyrdom was to have its reward. She had conveyed to
+the Indian her desire that he should discard the garments of
+civilization, and array himself in those of his pristine barbarity.
+Remembering also that an Indian toilet is not complete without a good
+deal of decorative art, she lent him a collection of artists'
+materials kept for purposes of aesthetic display, and explained to him
+how to use them. The result was that when he emerged he was a sight to
+strike terror into any heart. His robes became him fiercely, and the
+blazonry of his colors even frightened her a little. She began to
+wonder whether, after all, Indian reform might not be a dangerous
+pursuit. But all this was accomplished, in her haste, three hours
+before the time of the reception. What was to be done with him in the
+mean time? He must needs sit and wait, like the ladies in the olden
+time who on the occasion of some great fete were obliged, through the
+multiplicity of the hair-dresser's engagements, to pass under his
+hands early in the morning, perhaps, and then to sit like statues all
+day lest the lofty and beautiful structure on their heads should
+tumble into ruins. But how restrain him--this untutored Kickapoo? In
+her desperation a wild and wonderful scheme occurred to her. He had
+become savagely fond of raspberry jam. She would offer him a bribe of
+an unlimited quantity of this delicacy to go into some room and stay
+there, and once there, she would quietly lock the door. She canvassed
+in her mind all the rooms in her little box of a home. There was one,
+convenient, appropriate, and secure--the store-room. No sooner said
+than done. To see this fierce-looking Kickapoo clad in robes of
+savagery, and gleaming in all the paint of the war-path, seated on
+Miss Slopham's refrigerator, and looking about on either side with
+barbaric curiosity at her array of shelves of jars and bottles, while
+he ate raspberry jam out of a rare and elegant saucer with an
+exquisite silver spoon, might have seemed a ludicrous spectacle to
+anybody less austere than Miss Slopham. But she only gave a sigh of
+relief, and softly turned the key, and went away to prepare for her
+guests. Ogla-Moga did not miss her. He finished the saucer of jam,
+and finished the jar, and then began explorations. He found various
+relishes, condiments, and preserves, and what not, all of which he
+tasted, some of which he enjoyed, and some of which he seemed to
+objurgate in choice Kickapoo. At last--for his terrific figure was now
+erect on the refrigerator--he saw something that sent a gleam of joy
+across his fiery face. It was a dark bottle that bore an inscription
+which he could not read, "S. O. P. Brandy." But there is one sense
+which needs no education. He pulled out the cork, and put the mouth of
+the bottle to his nostrils; then he smiled grimly, and straightway sat
+down on the refrigerator.
+
+The time had arrived for Miss Slopham to read her paper. Mr. Michst
+claimed the attention of the company by tapping on a table with a
+paper-knife. "Laties and shentlemen," said he, "we haf come here dis
+efening as drue philossophers--not for our own selfish bleasure
+enti-er-_lee_, but"--Mr. Margent looked uneasy, and fidgeted in his
+chair--"in order to hellp in de solution of one of de great questions
+of de day--de Indian question. I haf met some off dese obbressed and
+downdrodden beoble. I know how amiable, how excellent, they are--like
+little shildren dey haf lissened to me ven I haf talked to dem of de
+_aura_ of Schrellenbach and de ofersoul--all vunder, and, I know, all
+pelief. But I vill not take down de time. My young and pyootiful
+friend, Miss Slobham" (the good, loyal man was sadly near-sighted),
+"vill read to you, and I belief she vill have some derrible dings to
+say."
+
+Terrible things indeed! Miss Slopham's manuscript ran with gore--the
+gore of the red-man always. Massacres, surprises, and butcheries, in
+which the white man had slaked, only to renew it, his notorious thirst
+for Indian blood, followed each other across the pages of the paper,
+leaving each a darkening trail behind. The government of these United
+States, which, in the inconsistent, uncontinuous, and often bungling
+way of all governments, has probably tried to do its duty by the
+Indian--often succeeding only in making its benevolence a source of
+pauperism, and often betrayed by unfaithful officials and corrupt
+citizens into shameful acts of bad faith--was portrayed as a huge
+ogre, a giant Blunderbore, drinking Indian blood from two-quart
+bowls, and never breakfasting but on Indian baby. Meantime there
+filed through Miss Slopham's flowing sentences, like a procession
+of children with banners, the mild and faithful Modoc, the
+unsophisticated Sioux, the exemplary Pi-Ute, the large-eyed and
+pensive Pottawattamie, the polished Nez-Perce, the amiable Pawnee, the
+meek and unobtrusive Ogallala, and the playful Apache. If there ever
+had been a massacre by Indians, or an act of savage cruelty by other
+than white men, it was not found necessary for the purposes of this
+paper to mention it. Perhaps emphasis is indispensable in advocating
+reforms, and Indian reforms are surely needed. At all events, there
+was no lack of accentuation in Miss Slopham's paper. The little
+audience murmured to each other of its literary skill, and noticed
+that Mr. Blagg, who was a high authority, wore an approving smile.
+
+"And now," she read, as she approached the end of the essay, "we have
+felt that there could be no better way to enlist the sympathies of
+practical men and women than to show them one of these unfortunate
+people as he is at home, in his native dress, in the picturesque
+pigments which he delights, in his innocent and child-like fancy, to
+adorn himself with, and to let you see how far he is from being the
+wretch he is represented to be, how clearly the natural mildness of
+his disposition, when unvexed by the tyranny of governments, shines
+through the manly beauty of his countenance. It has so happened that
+one of these poor creatures has been placed for a time under my
+charge" (and here a look of dawning suspicion began to appear
+simultaneously upon the faces of Miss Ayr and Miss Tristan), "and I
+shall be able to summon him in a few moments into your presence, and
+beg you to render, in behalf of this simple and suffering race, the
+kind yet impartial testimony of your own eyes. I ask this because"--
+
+But what was this strange noise in the distance that made Miss Slopham
+pause in her reading, and sent a pallor across her cheek?--a sound as
+of the dragging of a heavy body through the private hallway leading
+from her kitchen--a sound as of a struggle, and of scuffling and
+heavy breathing, and loud mutterings. It flashed upon her in an
+instant that she had forgotten the little window in the store-room.
+Had Ogla-Moga escaped? What had happened?
+
+But she made an effort and resumed: "I ask this because--"
+
+"Mither of Moses! what are ye a-doin'? Let go me hair, or I'll scrame
+for the perlice;" and forthwith there went up just outside of the
+drawing-room door a scream in the unmistakable voice of Bridget, which
+must have reached the traditionally absent policeman, no matter how
+far he was away.
+
+The company had now started to their feet in astonishment and fright.
+
+"Queltzcoatchstepukulistini!"--or that was what the response sounded
+like.
+
+Another scream from Bridget.
+
+"Akuishnapaccademipechacquinishcrekepa!"
+
+In another instant an extraordinary group reeled into the
+doorway--Ogla-Moga, with his robes torn and spattered, his paint
+smeared out of its original lines and colors, and his face furrowed
+with scratches inflicted by the hands of Bridget--Ogla-Moga drunk,
+utterly drunk, and brandishing in the air a glittering carving-knife;
+and Bridget--alas! drunk too--with her hair in the firm grasp of the
+Indian, who was pulling her along.
+
+There was a universal shriek of horror. Three of the ladies bolted
+through the only door which the Indian did not occupy, and which
+opened into a small bedroom. They frantically pulled it shut, just as
+three other ladies seized the knob on the outside and tried to pull it
+open. As luck would have it, Miss Ayr and her mother and Mrs. Blenkin
+were on the inside, and the two Misses Pound were on the outside--a
+fact which did not seem to diminish the natural anxiety of the ladies
+on either side of the door for their personal safety. At all events,
+the tug of war went on. Mr. Blagg showed extreme terror, and being
+plainly reduced by the same to a state of utter intellectual confusion
+and imbecility, made an insane attempt to scale the heights of a large
+what-not in the corner of the room, which, of course, promptly came
+over with him, hurling him to the floor with great violence, and
+falling directly upon him, while it covered his body and the larger
+part of the floor with the fragments of unprecedented teapots and
+alleged salad-bowls. Mrs. Gottom and her niece barricaded themselves
+in the corner with a sofa, and armed themselves with huge photograph
+albums to be hurled at the enemy; while Professor Phyle, who was a
+prominent member of the Peace Society, quietly stepped into the window
+recess, and drew the curtains in defence of his person and his
+principles.
+
+In the midst of the turmoil and dismay, Miss Tristan was heard to
+exclaim, "Oh, aunty, it is Signor Barbazzo!" and her aunt was heard to
+reply, with singular feeling, "Hold your tongue, child, and never
+speak to me again as long as you live!" There was a marked rustle of
+the curtains in front of Professor Phyle at this episode. Meantime Mr.
+Michst, with a blind idea of doing something, without knowing in the
+least what it ought to be, had confronted the Indian, who still stood
+there muttering and shaking his knife. Just then he gave a terrible
+tug at Bridget's hair, that imparted a projectile motion to her as he
+swung her away from him. Her lowered head struck Mr. Michst with full
+force in the neighborhood of the diaphragm, and the two went down on
+the floor with a crash. Mr. Margent, the first to recover his presence
+of mind, stepped over the extended toes of Miss Slopham, who had
+simply dropped into a chair in a dead faint, firmly seized the
+Indian's right hand, in which the knife was held, and putting his
+other hand on the Indian's shoulder, gently and easily tripped him up,
+and when he had got him down sat on his prostrate form. It had hardly
+been done when a dark little man slipped into the room, cast a swift
+glance around, and without stopping to look his astonishment, in a
+flash locked a pair of handcuffs on Ogla-Moga's wrists. In the hall
+outside was a vision of two policemen.
+
+Mr. Margent, without betraying the least surprise, slowly got up,
+pulled a toothpick out of his pocket, and began to use it, while he
+looked down upon the Indian. "What's he done?" he asked, coolly.
+
+"Oh, all sorts of things: killed a missionary; poured a can of
+kerosene on his squaw, and tried to set her on fire, because he wanted
+to take another one; and so on. The worst Kickapoo of the lot. I've
+had hard work to find him; but," with a grin, "I never expected to
+find him in a place like this."
+
+Ogla-Moga had fallen asleep then and there! The harsh music of his
+snore filled the room. To several persons present it had a familiar
+sound. Professor Phyle, who had stuck his head out of the curtains,
+drew it in again suddenly, like the timid turtle.
+
+"Poor Ogla-Moga!" said Miss Slopham, who had recovered, and had been
+listening. "What else could be expected under a cruel and despotic
+government?"
+
+"Ogla-Moga? Yes, ma'am, that's his name among the tribe. I'm the
+agent's deputy. We called him Ugly-Mug, and that was the way the
+Indians pronounced it. It _is_ ugly, you see, ma'am."
+
+It _was_ ugly. It was the last blow. Miss Slopham said not another
+word, and, strange to say, Mr. Blagg never mentioned these interesting
+incidents in his correspondence.
+
+
+
+
+A MEMORABLE MURDER.
+
+BY CELIA THAXTER.
+
+_Atlantic Monthly, May, 1875._
+
+
+At the Isles of Shoals, on the 5th of March in the year 1873, occurred
+one of the most monstrous tragedies ever enacted on this planet. The
+sickening details of the double murder are well known; the newspapers
+teemed with them for months: but the pathos of the story is not
+realized; the world does not know how gentle a life these poor people
+led, how innocently happy were their quiet days. They were all
+Norwegians. The more I see of the natives of this far-off land, the
+more I admire the fine qualities which seem to characterize them as a
+race. Gentle, faithful, intelligent, God-fearing human beings, they
+daily use such courtesy toward each other and all who come in contact
+with them, as puts our ruder Yankee manners to shame. The men and
+women living on this lonely island were like the sweet, honest, simple
+folk we read of in Bjoernson's charming Norwegian stories, full of
+kindly thoughts and ways. The murdered Anethe might have been the Eli
+of Bjoernson's beautiful Arne or the Ragnhild of Boyesen's lovely
+romance. They rejoiced to find a home just such as they desired in
+this peaceful place; the women took such pleasure in the little house
+which they kept so neat and bright, in their flock of hens, their
+little dog Ringe, and all their humble belongings! The Norwegians are
+an exceptionally affectionate people; family ties are very strong and
+precious among them. Let me tell the story of their sorrow as simply
+as may be.
+
+Louis Wagner murdered Anethe and Karen Christensen at midnight on the
+5th of March, two years ago this spring. The whole affair shows the
+calmness of a practiced hand; _there was no malice in the deed_, no
+heat; it was one of the coolest instances of deliberation ever
+chronicled in the annals of crime. He admits that these people had
+shown him nothing but kindness. He says in so many words, "They were
+my best friends." They looked upon him as a brother. Yet he did not
+hesitate to murder them. The island called Smutty-Nose by human
+perversity (since in old times it bore the pleasanter title of Haley's
+Island) was selected to be the scene of this disaster. Long ago I
+lived two years upon it, and know well its whitened ledges and grassy
+slopes, its low thickets of wild-rose and bayberry, its sea-wall still
+intact, connecting it with the small island Malaga, opposite
+Appledore, and the ruined break-water which links it with Cedar
+Island on the other side. A lonely cairn, erected by some long ago
+forgotten fishermen or sailors, stands upon the highest rock at the
+southeastern extremity; at its western end a few houses are scattered,
+small, rude dwellings, with the square old Haley house near; two or
+three fish-houses are falling into decay about the water-side, and the
+ancient wharf drops stone by stone into the little cove, where every
+day the tide ebbs and flows and ebbs again with pleasant sound and
+freshness. Near the houses is a small grave-yard, where a few of the
+natives sleep, and not far, the graves of the fourteen Spaniards lost
+in the wreck of the ship Sagunto in the year 1813. I used to think it
+was a pleasant place, that low, rocky, and grassy island, though so
+wild and lonely.
+
+From the little town of Laurvig, near Christiania, in Norway, came
+John and Maren Hontvet to this country, and five years ago took up
+their abode in this desolate spot, in one of the cottages facing the
+cove and Appledore. And there they lived through the long winters and
+the lovely summers, John making a comfortable living by fishing,
+Maren, his wife, keeping as bright and tidy and sweet a little home
+for him as man could desire. The bit of garden they cultivated in the
+summer was a pleasure to them; they made their house as pretty as they
+could with paint and paper and gay pictures, and Maren had a shelf for
+her plants at the window; and John was always so good to her, so kind
+and thoughtful of her comfort and of what would please her, she was
+entirely happy. Sometimes she was a little lonely, perhaps, when he
+was tossing afar off on the sea, setting or hauling his trawls, or had
+sailed to Portsmouth to sell his fish. So that she was doubly glad
+when the news came that some of her people were coming over from
+Norway to live with her. And first, in the month of May, 1871, came
+her sister Karen, who stayed only a short time with Maren, and then
+came to Appledore, where she lived at service two years, till within a
+fortnight of her death. The first time I saw Maren she brought her
+sister to us, and I was charmed with the little woman's beautiful
+behavior; she was so gentle, courteous, decorous, she left on my mind
+a most delightful impression. Her face struck me as remarkably good
+and intelligent, and her gray eyes were full of light.
+
+Karen was a rather sad-looking woman, about twenty-nine years old; she
+had lost a lover in Norway long since, and in her heart she fretted
+and mourned for this continually: she could not speak a word of
+English at first, but went patiently about her work and soon learned
+enough, and proved herself an excellent servant, doing faithfully and
+thoroughly everything she undertook, as is the way of her people
+generally. Her personal neatness was most attractive. She wore gowns
+made of cloth woven by herself in Norway, a coarse blue stuff, always
+neat and clean, and often I used to watch her as she sat by the fire
+spinning at a spinning-wheel brought from her own country; she made
+such a pretty picture, with her blue gown and fresh white apron, and
+the nice, clear white muslin bow with which she was in the habit of
+fastening her linen collar, that she was very agreeable to look upon.
+She had a pensive way of letting her head droop a little sideways as
+she spun, and while the low wheel hummed monotonously, she would sit
+crooning sweet, sad old Norwegian airs by the hour together, perfectly
+unconscious that she was affording such pleasure to a pair of
+appreciative eyes. On the 12th of October, 1872, in the second year of
+her stay with us, her brother, Ivan Christensen, and his wife, Anethe
+Mathea, came over from their Norseland in an evil day, and joined
+Maren and John at their island, living in the same house with them.
+
+Ivan and Anethe had been married only since Christmas of the preceding
+year. Ivan was tall, light-haired, rather quiet and grave. Anethe was
+young, fair, and merry, with thick, bright sunny hair, which was so
+long it reached, when unbraided, nearly to her knees; blue-eyed, with
+brilliant teeth and clear, fresh complexion, beautiful, and beloved
+beyond expression by her young husband, Ivan. Mathew Hontvet, John's
+brother, had also joined the little circle a year before, and now
+Maren's happiness was complete. Delighted to welcome them all, she
+made all things pleasant for them, and she told me only a few days
+ago, "I never was so happy in my life as when we were all living there
+together." So they abode in peace and quiet, with not an evil thought
+in their minds, kind and considerate toward each other, the men
+devoted to their women and the women repaying them with interest, till
+out of the perfectly cloudless sky one day a bolt descended, without a
+whisper of warning, and brought ruin and desolation into that peaceful
+home.
+
+Louis Wagner, who had been in this country seven years, appeared at
+the Shoals two years before the date of the murder. He lived about the
+islands during that time. He was born in Ueckermuende, a small town of
+lower Pomerania, in Northern Prussia. Very little is known about him,
+though there were vague rumors that his past life had not been without
+difficulties, and he had boasted foolishly among his mates that "not
+many had done what he had done and got off in safety;" but people did
+not trouble themselves about him or his past, all having enough to do
+to earn their bread and keep the wolf from the door. Maren describes
+him as tall, powerful, dark, with a peculiarly quiet manner. She says
+she never saw him drunk--he seemed always anxious to keep his wits
+about him: he would linger on the outskirts of a drunken brawl,
+listening to and absorbing everything, but never mixing himself up in
+any disturbance. He was always lurking in corners, lingering, looking,
+listening, and he would look no man straight in the eyes. She spoke,
+however, of having once heard him disputing with some sailors, at
+table, about some point of navigation; she did not understand it, but
+all were against Louis, and, waxing warm, all strove to show him he
+was in the wrong. As he rose and left the table she heard him mutter
+to himself with an oath, "I know I'm wrong, but I'll never give in!"
+During the winter preceding the one in which his hideous deed was
+committed he lived at Star Island and fished alone, in a wherry; but
+he made very little money, and came often over to the Hontvets, where
+Maren gave him food when he was suffering from want, and where he
+received always a welcome and the utmost kindness. In the following
+June he joined Hontvet in his business of fishing, and took up his
+abode as one of the family at Smutty-Nose. During the summer he was
+"crippled," as he said, by the rheumatism, and they were all very good
+to him, and sheltered, fed, nursed and waited upon him the greater
+part of the season. He remained with them five weeks after Ivan and
+Anethe arrived, so that he grew to know Anethe as well as Maren, and
+was looked upon as a brother by all of them, as I have said before.
+Nothing occurred to show his true character, and in November he left
+the island and the kind people whose hospitality he was to repay so
+fearfully, and going to Portsmouth he took passage in another fishing
+schooner, the Addison Gilbert, which was presently wrecked off the
+coast, and he was again thrown out of employment. Very recklessly he
+said to Waldemar Ingebertsen, to Charles Jonsen, and even to John
+Hontvet himself, at different times, that "he must have money if he
+murdered for it." He loafed about Portsmouth eight weeks, doing
+nothing. Meanwhile Karen left our service in February, intending to go
+to Boston and work at a sewing-machine, for she was not strong and
+thought she should like it better than housework, but before going she
+lingered awhile with her sister Maren--fatal delay for her! Maren told
+me that during this time Karen went to Portsmouth and had her teeth
+removed, meaning to provide herself with a new set. At the Jonsens',
+where Louis was staying, one day she spoke to Mrs. Jonsen of her
+mouth, that it was so sensitive since the teeth had been taken out;
+and Mrs. Jonsen asked her how long she must wait before the new set
+could be put in. Karen replied that it would be three months. Louis
+Wagner was walking up and down at the other end of the room with his
+arms folded, his favorite attitude. Mrs. Jonsen's daughter passed near
+him and heard him mutter, "Three months! What is the use! In three
+months you will be dead!" He did not know the girl was so near, and
+turning, he confronted her. He knew she must have heard what he said,
+and he glared at her like a wild man.
+
+On the fifth day of March, 1873, John Hontvet, his brother Mathew, and
+Ivan Christensen set sail in John's little schooner, the Clara Bella,
+to draw their trawls. At that time four of the islands were inhabited:
+one family on White Island, at the light-house; the workmen who were
+building the new hotel on Star Island, and one or two households
+beside; the Hontvet family at Smutty-Nose; and on Appledore, the
+household at the large house, and on the southern side, opposite
+Smutty-Nose, a little cottage, where lived Joerge Edvardt Ingebertsen,
+his wife and children, and several men who fished with him.
+Smutty-Nose is not in sight of the large house at Appledore, so we
+were in ignorance of all that happened on that dreadful night, longer
+than the other inhabitants of the Shoals.
+
+John, Ivan and Mathew went to draw their trawls, which had been set
+some miles to the eastward of the islands. They intended to be back to
+dinner, and then to go on to Portsmouth with their fish, and bait the
+trawls afresh, ready to bring back to set again next day. But the wind
+was strong and fair for Portsmouth and ahead for the islands; it would
+have been a long beat home against it; so they went on to Portsmouth,
+without touching at the island to leave one man to guard the women, as
+had been their custom. This was the first night in all the years Maren
+had lived there that the house was without a man to protect it. But
+John, always thoughtful for her, asked Emil Ingebertsen, whom he met
+on the fishing-grounds, to go over from Appledore and tell her that
+they had gone on to Portsmouth with the favoring wind, but that they
+hoped to be back that night. And he would have been back had the bait
+he expected from Boston arrived on the train in which it was due. How
+curiously everything adjusted itself to favor the bringing about of
+this horrible catastrophe! The bait did not arrive till the half-past
+twelve train, and they were obliged to work the whole night getting
+their trawls ready, thus leaving the way perfectly clear for Louis
+Wagner's awful work.
+
+The three women left alone watched and waited in vain for the schooner
+to return, and kept the dinner hot for the men, and patiently wondered
+why they did not come. In vain they searched the wide horizon for that
+returning sail. Ah me, what pathos is in that longing look of women's
+eyes for far-off sails! That gaze, so eager, so steadfast, that it
+would almost seem as if it must conjure up the ghostly shape of
+glimmering canvas from the mysterious distances of sea and sky, and
+draw it unerringly home by the mere force of intense wistfulness! And
+those gentle eyes, that were never to see the light of another sun,
+looked anxiously across the heaving sea till twilight fell, and then
+John's messenger, Emil, arrived--Emil Ingebertsen, courteous and
+gentle as a youthful knight--and reassured them with his explanation,
+which having given, he departed, leaving them in a much more cheerful
+state of mind. So the three sisters, with only the little dog Ringe
+for a protector, sat by the fire chatting together cheerfully. They
+fully expected the schooner back again that night from Portsmouth, but
+they were not ill at ease while they waited. Of what should they be
+afraid? They had not an enemy in the world! No shadow crept to the
+fireside to warn them what was at hand, no portent of death chilled
+the air as they talked their pleasant talk and made their little
+plans in utter unconsciousness. Karen was to have gone to Portsmouth
+with the fishermen that day; she was all ready dressed to go. Various
+little commissions were given her, errands to do for the two sisters
+she was to leave behind. Maren wanted some buttons, and "I'll give you
+one for a pattern; I'll put it in your purse," she said to Karen, "and
+then when you open your purse you'll be sure to remember it." (That
+little button, of a peculiar pattern, was found in Wagner's possession
+afterward.) They sat up till ten o'clock, talking together. The night
+was bright and calm; it was a comfort to miss the bitter winds that
+had raved about the little dwelling all the long, rough winter.
+Already it was spring; this calm was the first token of its coming. It
+was the 5th of March; in a few weeks the weather would soften, the
+grass grow green, and Anethe would see the first flowers in this
+strange country, so far from her home where she had left father and
+mother, kith and kin, for love of Ivan. The delicious days of summer
+at hand would transform the work of the toiling fishermen to pleasure,
+and all things would bloom and smile about the poor people on the
+lonely rock! Alas, it was not to be.
+
+At ten o'clock they went to bed. It was cold and "lonesome" up-stairs,
+so Maren put some chairs by the side of the lounge, laid a mattress
+upon it, and made up a bed for Karen in the kitchen, where she
+presently fell asleep. Maren and Anethe slept in the next room. So
+safe they felt themselves, they did not pull down a curtain, nor even
+try to fasten the house-door. They went to their rest in absolute
+security and perfect trust. It was the first still night of the new
+year; a young moon stole softly down toward the west, a gentle wind
+breathed through the quiet dark, and the waves whispered gently about
+the island, helping to lull those innocent souls to yet more peaceful
+slumber. Ah, where were the gales of March that might have plowed that
+tranquil sea to foam, and cut off the fatal path of Louis Wagner to
+that happy home! But nature seemed to pause and wait for him. I
+remember looking abroad over the waves that night and rejoicing over
+"the first calm night of the year!" It was so still, so bright! The
+hope of all the light and beauty a few weeks would bring forth stirred
+me to sudden joy. There should be spring again after the long
+winter-weariness.
+
+     "Can trouble live in April days,
+     Or sadness in the summer moons?"
+
+I thought, as I watched the clear sky, grown less hard than it had
+been for weeks, and sparkling with stars. But before another sunset it
+seemed to me that beauty had fled out of the world, and that goodness,
+innocence, mercy, gentleness, were a mere mockery of empty words.
+
+Here let us leave the poor women, asleep on the lonely rock, with no
+help near them in heaven or upon earth, and follow the fishermen to
+Portsmouth, where they arrived about four o'clock that afternoon. One
+of the first men whom they saw as they neared the town was Louis
+Wagner; to him they threw the rope from the schooner, and he helped
+draw her in to the wharf. Greetings passed between them; he spoke to
+Mathew Hontvet, and as he looked at Ivan Christensen, the men noticed
+a flush pass over Louis's face. He asked were they going out again
+that night? Three times before they parted he asked that question; he
+saw that all the three men belonging to the island had come away
+together; he began to realize his opportunity. They answered him that
+if their bait came by the train in which they expected it, they hoped
+to get back that night, but if it was late they should be obliged to
+stay till morning, baiting their trawls; and they asked him to come
+and help them. It is a long and tedious business, the baiting of
+trawls; often more than a thousand hooks are to be manipulated, and
+lines and hooks coiled, clear of tangles, into tubs, all ready for
+throwing overboard when the fishing-grounds are reached. Louis gave
+them a half promise that he would help them, but they did not see him
+again after leaving the wharf. The three fishermen were hungry, not
+having touched at their island, where Maren always provided them with
+a supply of food to take with them; they asked each other if either
+had brought any money with which to buy bread, and it came out that
+every one had left his pocket-book at home. Louis, standing by, heard
+all this. He asked John, then, if he had made fishing pay. John
+answered that he had cleared about six hundred dollars.
+
+The men parted, the honest three about their business; but Louis, what
+became of him with his evil thoughts? At about half-past seven he went
+into a liquor shop and had a glass of something; not enough to make
+him unsteady,--he was too wise for that. He was not seen again in
+Portsmouth by any human creature that night. He must have gone, after
+that, directly down to the river, that beautiful, broad river, the
+Piscataqua, upon whose southern bank the quaint old city of Portsmouth
+dreams its quiet days away; and there he found a boat ready to his
+hand, a dory belonging to a man by the name of David Burke, who had
+that day furnished it with new thole-pins. When it was picked up
+afterward off the mouth of the river, Louis's anxious oars had eaten
+half-way through the substance of these pins, which are always made of
+the hardest, toughest wood that can be found. A terrible piece of
+rowing must that have been, in one night! Twelve miles from the city
+to the Shoals,--three to the light-houses, where the river meets the
+open sea, nine more to the islands; nine back again to Newcastle next
+morning! He took that boat, and with the favoring tide dropped down
+the rapid river where the swift current is so strong that oars are
+scarcely needed, except to keep the boat steady. Truly all nature
+seemed to play into his hands; this first relenting night of earliest
+spring favored him with its stillness, the tide was fair, the wind
+was fair, the little moon gave him just enough light, without
+betraying him to any curious eyes, as he glided down the three miles
+between the river banks, in haste to reach the sea. Doubtless the
+light west wind played about him as delicately as if he had been the
+most human of God's creatures; nothing breathed remonstrance in his
+ear, nothing whispered in the whispering water that rippled about his
+inexorable keel, steering straight for the Shoals through the quiet
+darkness. The snow lay thick and white upon the land in the moonlight;
+lamps twinkled here and there from dwellings on either side; in Eliot
+and Newcastle, in Portsmouth and Kittery, roofs, chimneys, and gables
+showed faintly in the vague light; the leafless trees clustered dark
+in hollows or lifted their tracery of bare boughs in higher spaces
+against the wintry sky. His eyes must have looked on it all, whether
+he saw the peaceful picture or not. Beneath many a humble roof honest
+folk were settling into their untroubled rest, as "this planned piece
+of deliberate wickedness" was stealing silently by with his heart full
+of darkness, blacker than the black tide that swirled beneath his boat
+and bore him fiercely on. At the river's mouth stood the sentinel
+light-houses, sending their great spokes of light afar into the night,
+like the arms of a wide humanity stretching into the darkness helping
+hands to bring all who needed succor safely home. He passed them,
+first the tower at Fort Point, then the taller one at Whale's Back,
+steadfastly holding aloft their warning fires. There was no signal
+from the warning bell as he rowed by, though a danger more subtle,
+more deadly, than fog, or hurricane, or pelting storm was passing
+swift beneath it. Unchallenged by anything in earth or heaven, he kept
+on his way and gained the great outer ocean, doubtless pulling strong
+and steadily, for he had no time to lose, and the longest night was
+all too short for an undertaking such as this. Nine miles from the
+light-houses to the islands! Slowly he makes his way; it seems to take
+an eternity of time. And now he is midway between the islands and the
+coast. That little toy of a boat with its one occupant in the midst of
+the awful, black, heaving sea! The vast dim ocean whispers with a
+thousand waves; against the boat's side the ripples lightly tap, and
+pass and are lost; the air is full of fine, mysterious voices of winds
+and waters. Has he no fear, alone there on the midnight sea with such
+a purpose in his heart? The moonlight sends a long, golden track
+across the waves; it touches his dark face and figure, it glitters on
+his dripping oars. On his right hand Boone Island light shows like a
+setting star on the horizon, low on his left the two beacons twinkle
+off Newburyport, at the mouth of the Merrimack River; all the
+light-houses stand watching along the coast, wheeling their long,
+slender shafts of radiance as if pointing at this black atom creeping
+over the face of the planet with such colossal evil in his heart.
+Before him glitters the Shoals' light at White Island, and helps to
+guide him to his prey. Alas, my friendly light-house, that you should
+serve so terrible a purpose! Steadily the oars click in the rowlocks;
+stroke after stroke of the broad blades draws him away from the
+lessening line of land, over the wavering floor of the ocean, nearer
+the lonely rocks. Slowly the coast-lights fade, and now the rote of
+the sea among the lonely ledges of the Shoals salutes his attentive
+ear. A little longer and he nears Appledore, the first island, and now
+he passes by the snow-covered, ice-bound rock, with the long buildings
+showing clear in the moonlight. He must have looked at them as he went
+past. I wonder we who slept beneath the roofs that glimmered to his
+eyes in the uncertain light did not feel, through the thick veil of
+sleep, what fearful thing passed by! But we slumbered peacefully as
+the unhappy woman whose doom every click of those oars in the
+rowlocks, like the ticking of some dreadful clock, was bringing
+nearer and nearer. Between the islands he passes; they are full of
+chilly gleams and glooms. There is no scene more weird than these
+snow-covered rocks in winter, more shudderful and strange: the
+moonlight touching them with mystic glimmer, the black water breaking
+about them, and the vast shadowy spaces of the sea stretching to the
+horizon on every side, full of vague sounds, of half lights and
+shadows, of fear, and of mystery. The island he seeks lies before him,
+lone and still; there is no gleam in any window, there is no help
+near, nothing upon which the women can call for succor. He does not
+land in the cove where all boats put in; he rows round to the south
+side and draws his boat up on the rocks. His red returning footsteps
+are found here next day, staining the snow. He makes his way to the
+house he knows so well.
+
+All is silent: nothing moves, nothing sounds but the hushed voices of
+the sea. His hand is on the latch, he enters stealthily, there is
+nothing to resist him. The little dog, Ringe, begins to bark sharp and
+loud, and Karen rouses, crying, "John, is that you?" thinking the
+expected fishermen had returned. Louis seizes a chair and strikes at
+her in the dark; the clock on a shelf above her head falls down with
+the jarring of the blow, and stops at exactly seven minutes to one.
+Maren, in the next room, waked suddenly from her sound sleep, trying
+in vain to make out the meaning of it all, cries, "What's the matter?"
+Karen answers, "John scared me!" Maren springs from her bed and tries
+to open her chamber door; Louis has fastened it on the other side by
+pushing a stick through over the latch. With her heart leaping with
+terror the poor child shakes the door with all her might, in vain.
+Utterly confounded and bewildered, she hears Karen screaming, "John
+kills me! John kills me!" She hears the sound of repeated blows and
+shrieks, till at last her sister falls heavily against the door, which
+gives way, and Maren rushes out. She catches dimly a glimpse of a tall
+figure outlined against the southern window; she seizes poor Karen and
+drags her with the strength of frenzy within the bedroom. This
+unknown terror, this fierce, dumb monster who never utters a sound to
+betray himself through the whole, pursues her with blows, strikes her
+three times with a chair, either blow with fury sufficient to kill
+her, had it been light enough for him to see how to direct it; but she
+gets her sister inside and the door shut, and holds it against him
+with all her might and Karen's failing strength. What a little heroine
+was this poor child, struggling with the force of desperation to save
+herself and her sisters!
+
+All this time Anethe lay dumb, not daring to move or breathe, roused
+from the deep sleep of youth and health by this nameless, formless
+terror. Maren, while she strives to hold the door at which Louis
+rattles again and again, calls to her in anguish, "Anethe, Anethe! Get
+out of the window! run! hide!" The poor girl, almost paralyzed with
+fear, tries to obey, puts her bare feet out of the low window, and
+stands outside in the freezing snow, with one light garment over her
+cowering figure, shrinking in the cold winter wind, the clear
+moonlight touching her white face and bright hair and fair young
+shoulders. "Scream! scream!" shouts frantic Maren. "Somebody at Star
+Island may hear!" but Anethe answers with the calmness of despair, "I
+cannot make a sound." Maren screams herself, but the feeble sound
+avails nothing. "Run! run!" she cries to Anethe; but again Anethe
+answers, "I cannot move."
+
+Louis has left off trying to force the door; he listens. Are the
+women trying to escape? He goes out-of-doors. Maren flies to the
+window; he comes round the corner of the house and confronts Anethe
+where she stands in the snow. The moonlight shines full in his face;
+she shrieks loudly and distinctly, "Louis, Louis!"
+
+Ah, he is discovered, he is recognized! Quick as thought he goes back
+to the front door, at the side of which stands an ax, left there by
+Maren, who had used it the day before to cut the ice from the well. He
+returns to Anethe standing shuddering there. It is no matter that she
+is beautiful, young, and helpless to resist, that she has been kind to
+him, that she never did a human creature harm, that she stretches her
+gentle hands out to him in agonized entreaty, crying piteously, "Oh,
+Louis, Louis, Louis!" He raises the ax and brings it down on her
+bright head in one tremendous blow, and she sinks without a sound and
+lies in a heap, with her warm blood reddening the snow. Then he deals
+her blow after blow, almost within reach of Maren's hands, as she
+stands at the window. Distracted, Maren strives to rouse poor Karen,
+who kneels with her head on the side of the bed; with desperate
+entreaty she tries to get her up and away, but Karen moans, "I cannot,
+I cannot." She is too far gone; and then Maren knows she cannot save
+her, and that she must flee herself or die. So, while Louis again
+enters the house, she seizes a skirt and wraps round her shoulders,
+and makes her way out of the open window, over Anethe's murdered body,
+barefooted, flying away, anywhere, breathless, shaking with terror.
+
+Where can she go? Her little dog, frightened into silence, follows
+her,--pressing so close to her feet that she falls over him more than
+once. Looking back she sees Louis has lit a lamp and is seeking for
+her. She flies to the cove; if she can but find his boat and row away
+in it and get help! It is not there; there is no boat in which she can
+get away. She hears Karen's wild screams,--he is killing her! Oh,
+where can she go? Is there any place on that little island where he
+will not find her? She thinks she will creep into one of the empty old
+houses by the water; but no, she reflects, if I hide there, Ringe will
+bark and betray me the moment Louis comes to look for me. And Ringe
+saved her life, for next day Louis's bloody tracks were found all
+about those old buildings where he had sought her. She flies, with
+Karen's awful cries in her ears, away over rocks and snow to the
+farthest limit she can gain. The moon has set; it is about two o'clock
+in the morning, and oh, so cold! She shivers and shudders from head to
+feet, but her agony of terror is so great she is hardly conscious of
+bodily sensation. And welcome is the freezing snow, the jagged ice and
+iron rocks that tear her unprotected feet, the bitter brine that beats
+against the shore, the winter winds that make her shrink and tremble;
+"they are not so unkind as man's ingratitude!" Falling often, rising,
+struggling on with feverish haste, she makes her way to the very edge
+of the water; down almost into the sea she creeps, between two rocks,
+upon her hands and knees, and crouches, face downward, with Ringe
+nestled close beneath her breast, not daring to move through the long
+hours that must pass before the sun will rise again. She is so near
+the ocean she can almost reach the water with her hand. Had the wind
+breathed the least roughly the waves must have washed over her. There
+let us leave her and go back to Louis Wagner. Maren heard her sister
+Karen's shrieks as she fled. The poor girl had crept into an
+unoccupied room in a distant part of the house, striving to hide
+herself. He could not kill her with blows, blundering in the darkness,
+so he wound a handkerchief about her throat and strangled her. But now
+he seeks anxiously for Maren. _Has_ she escaped? What terror is in the
+thought! Escaped, to tell the tale, to accuse him as the murderer of
+her sisters. Hurriedly, with desperate anxiety, he seeks for her. His
+time was growing short; it was not in his programme that this brave
+little creature should give him so much trouble; he had not calculated
+on resistance from these weak and helpless women. Already it was
+morning, soon it would be daylight. He could not find her in or near
+the house; he went down to the empty and dilapidated houses about the
+cove, and sought her everywhere. What a picture! That blood-stained
+butcher, with his dark face, crawling about those cellars, peering for
+that woman! He dared not spend any more time; he must go back for the
+money he hoped to find, his reward for this! All about the house he
+searches, in bureau drawers, in trunks and boxes: he finds fifteen
+dollars for his night's work! Several hundreds were lying between some
+sheets folded at the bottom of a drawer in which he looked. But he
+cannot stop for more thorough investigation; a dreadful haste pursues
+him like a thousand fiends. He drags Anethe's stiffening body into the
+house, and leaves it on the kitchen floor. If the thought crosses his
+mind to set fire to the house and burn up his two victims, he dares
+not do it: it will make a fatal bonfire to light his homeward way;
+besides, it is useless, for Maren has escaped to accuse him, and the
+time presses so horribly!
+
+But how cool a monster is he! After all this hard work he must have
+refreshment, to support him in the long row back to the land; knife
+and fork, cup and plate, were found next morning on the table near
+where Anethe lay; fragments of food which was not cooked in the house,
+but brought from Portsmouth, were scattered about. Tidy Maren had left
+neither dishes nor food when they went to bed. The handle of the
+tea-pot which she had left on the stove was stained and smeared with
+blood. Can the human mind conceive of such hideous _nonchalance_?
+Wagner sat down in that room and ate and drank! It is almost beyond
+belief! Then he went to the well with a basin and towels, tried to
+wash off the blood, and left towels and basin in the well. He knows he
+must be gone! It is certain death to linger. He takes his boat and
+rows away toward the dark coast and the twinkling lights; it is for
+dear life, now! What powerful strokes send the small skiff rushing
+over the water!
+
+There is no longer any moon, the night is far spent; already the east
+changes, the stars fade; he rows like a madman to reach the land, but
+a blush of morning is stealing up the sky, and sunrise is rosy over
+shore and sea, when panting, trembling, weary, a creature accursed, a
+blot on the face of the day, he lands at Newcastle--too late! Too
+late! In vain he casts the dory adrift; she will not float away; the
+flood tide bears her back to give her testimony against him, and
+afterward she is found at Jaffrey's Point, near the "Devil's Den," and
+the fact of her worn thole-pins noted. Wet, covered with ice from the
+spray which has flown from his eager oars, utterly exhausted, he
+creeps to a knoll and reconnoitres; he thinks he is unobserved, and
+crawls on towards Portsmouth. But he is seen and recognized by many
+persons, and his identity established beyond a doubt. He goes to the
+house of Mathew Jonsen, where he has been living, steals up-stairs,
+changes his clothes, and appears before the family, anxious,
+frightened, agitated, telling Jonsen he never felt so badly in his
+life; that he has got into trouble and is afraid he shall be taken. He
+cannot eat at breakfast, says "farewell forever," goes away and is
+shaved, and takes the train to Boston, where he provides himself with
+new clothes, shoes, a complete outfit, but lingering, held by fate, he
+cannot fly, and before night the officer's hand is on his shoulder
+and he is arrested.
+
+Meanwhile poor shuddering Maren on the lonely island, by the
+water-side, waits till the sun is high in heaven before she dares to
+come forth. She thinks he may be still on the island. She said to me,
+"I thought he must be there, dead or alive. I thought he might go
+crazy and kill himself after having done all that." At last she steals
+out. The little dog frisks before her; it is so cold her feet cling to
+the rocks and snow at every step, till the skin is fairly torn off.
+Still and frosty is the bright morning, the water lies smiling and
+sparkling, the hammers of the workmen building the new hotel on Star
+Island sound through the quiet air. Being on the side of Smutty-Nose
+opposite Star, she waves her skirt, and screams to attract their
+attention; they hear her, turn and look, see a woman waving a signal
+of distress, and, surprising to relate, turn tranquilly to their work
+again. She realizes at last there is no hope in that direction; she
+must go round toward Appledore in sight of the dreadful house. Passing
+it afar off she gives one swift glance toward it, terrified lest in
+the broad sunshine she may see some horrid token of last night's work;
+but all is still and peaceful. She notices the curtains the three had
+left up when they went to bed; they are now drawn down; she knows
+whose hand has done this, and what it hides from the light of day.
+Sick at heart, she makes her painful way to the northern edge of
+Malaga, which is connected with Smutty-Nose by the old sea-wall. She
+is directly opposite Appledore and the little cottage where abide her
+friend and countryman, Joerge Edvardt Ingebertsen, and his wife and
+children. Only a quarter of a mile of the still ocean separates her
+from safety and comfort. She sees the children playing about the door;
+she calls and calls. Will no one ever hear her? Her torn feet torment
+her, she is sore with blows and perishing with cold. At last her voice
+reaches the ears of the children, who run and tell their father that
+some one is crying and calling; looking across, he sees the poor
+little figure waving her arms, takes his dory and paddles over, and
+with amazement recognizes Maren in her night-dress, with bare feet and
+streaming hair, with a cruel bruise upon her face, with wild eyes,
+distracted, half senseless with cold and terror. He cries, "Maren,
+Maren, who has done this? what is it? who is it?" and her only answer
+is "Louis, Louis, Louis!" as he takes her on board his boat and rows
+home with her as fast as he can. From her incoherent statement he
+learns what has happened. Leaving her in the care of his family, he
+comes over across the hill to the great house on Appledore. As I sit
+at my desk I see him pass the window, and wonder why the old man comes
+so fast and anxiously through the heavy snow.
+
+Presently I see him going back again, accompanied by several of his
+own countrymen and others of our workmen, carrying guns. They are
+going to Smutty-Nose, and take arms, thinking it possible Wagner may
+yet be there. I call down-stairs, "What has happened?" and am
+answered, "Some trouble at Smutty-Nose; we hardly understand."
+"Probably a drunken brawl of the reckless fishermen who may have
+landed there," I say to myself, and go on with my work. In another
+half-hour I see the men returning, reinforced by others, coming fast,
+confusedly; and suddenly a wail of anguish comes up from the women
+below. I cannot believe it when I hear them crying, "Karen is dead!
+Anethe is dead! Louis Wagner has murdered them both!" I run out
+into the servants' quarters; there are all the men assembled, an
+awe-stricken crowd. Old Ingebertsen comes forward and tells me the
+bare facts, and how Maren lies at his house, half-crazy, suffering
+with her torn and frozen feet. Then the men are dispatched to search
+Appledore, to find if by any chance the murderer might be concealed
+about the place, and I go over to Maren to see if I can do anything
+for her. I find the women and children with frightened faces at the
+little cottage; as I go into the room where Maren lies, she catches my
+hands, crying, "Oh, I so glad to see you! I so glad I save my life!"
+and with her dry lips she tells me all the story as I have told it
+here. Poor little creature, holding me with those wild, glittering,
+dilated eyes, she cannot tell me rapidly enough the whole horrible
+tale. Upon her cheek is yet the blood-stain from the blow he struck
+her with a chair, and she shows me two more upon her shoulder, and her
+torn feet. I go back for arnica with which to bathe them. What a
+mockery seems to me the "jocund day" as I emerge into the sunshine,
+and looking across the space of blue, sparkling water, see the house
+wherein all that horror lies!
+
+Oh, brightly shines the morning sun and glitters on the white sails of
+the little vessel that comes dancing back from Portsmouth before the
+favoring wind, with the two husbands on board! How glad they are for
+the sweet morning and the fair wind that brings them home again! And
+Ivan sees in fancy Anethe's face all beautiful with welcoming smiles,
+and John knows how happy his good and faithful Maren will be to see
+him back again. Alas, how little they dream what lies before them!
+From Appledore they are signalled to come ashore, and Ivan and Mathew,
+landing, hear a confused rumor of trouble from tongues that hardly can
+frame the words that must tell the dreadful truth. Ivan only
+understands that something is wrong. His one thought is for Anethe; he
+flies to Ingebertsen's cottage, she may be there; he rushes in like a
+maniac, crying, "Anethe, Anethe! Where is Anethe?" and broken-hearted
+Maren answers her brother, "Anethe is--at home." He does not wait for
+another word, but seizes the little boat and lands at the same time
+with John on Smutty-Nose; with headlong haste they reach the house,
+other men accompanying them; ah, there are blood-stains all about the
+snow! Ivan is the first to burst open the door and enter. What words
+can tell it! There upon the floor, naked, stiff and stark, is the
+woman he idolizes, for whose dear feet he could not make life's ways
+smooth and pleasant enough--stone dead! Dead--horribly butchered! her
+bright hair stiff with blood, the fair head that had so often rested
+on his breast crushed, cloven, mangled with the brutal ax! Their eyes
+are blasted by the intolerable sight: both John and Ivan stagger out
+and fall, senseless, in the snow. Poor Ivan! his wife a thousand times
+adored, the dear girl he had brought from Norway, the good, sweet girl
+who loved him so, whom he could not cherish tenderly enough! And he
+was not there to protect her! There was no one there to save her!
+
+           "Did heaven look on
+     And would not take their part!"
+
+Poor fellow, what had he done that fate should deal him such a blow as
+this! Dumb, blind with anguish, he made no sign.
+
+     "What says the body when they spring
+     Some monstrous torture-engine's whole
+     Strength on it? No more says the soul."
+
+Some of his pitying comrades lead him away, like one stupefied, and
+take him back to Appledore. John knows his wife is safe. Though
+stricken with horror and consumed with wrath, he is not paralyzed like
+poor Ivan, who has been smitten with worse than death. They find
+Karen's body in another part of the house, covered with blows and
+black in the face, strangled. They find Louis's tracks,--all the
+tokens of his disastrous presence,--the contents of trunks and drawers
+scattered about in his hasty search for the money, and all within the
+house and without, blood, blood, everywhere.
+
+When I reach the cottage with the arnica for Maren, they have returned
+to Smutty-Nose. John, her husband, is there. He is a young man of the
+true Norse type, blue-eyed, fair-haired, tall and well made, with
+handsome teeth and bronzed beard. Perhaps he is a little quiet and
+undemonstrative generally, but at this moment he is superb, kindled
+from head to feet, a firebrand of woe and wrath, with eyes that flash
+and cheeks that burn. I speak a few words to him,--what words can meet
+such an occasion as this!--and having given directions about the use
+of the arnica, for Maren, I go away, for nothing more can be done for
+her, and every comfort she needs is hers. The outer room is full of
+men; they make way for me, and as I pass through I catch a glimpse
+of Ivan crouched with his arms thrown round his knees and his head
+bowed down between them, motionless, his attitude expressing such
+abandonment of despair as cannot be described. His whole person seems
+to shrink, as if deprecating the blow that has fallen upon him.
+
+All day the slaughtered women lie as they were found, for nothing can
+be touched till the officers of the law have seen the whole. And John
+goes back to Portsmouth to tell his tale to the proper authorities.
+What a different voyage from the one he had just taken, when happy and
+careless he was returning to the home he had left so full of peace
+and comfort! What a load he bears back with him, as he makes his
+tedious way across the miles that separate him from the means of
+vengeance he burns to reach! But at last he arrives, tells his story,
+the police at other cities are at once telegraphed, and the city
+marshal follows Wagner to Boston. At eight o'clock that evening comes
+the steamer Mayflower to the Shoals, with all the officers on board.
+They land and make investigations at Smutty-Nose, then come here to
+Appledore and examine Maren, and, when everything is done, steam back
+to Portsmouth, which they reach at three o'clock in the morning. After
+all are gone and his awful day's work is finished at last, poor John
+comes back to Maren, and kneeling by the side of her bed, he is
+utterly overpowered with what he has passed through; he is shaken with
+sobs as he cries, "Oh, Maren, Maren, it is too much, too much! I
+cannot bear it!" And Maren throws her arms about his neck, crying,
+"Oh, John, John, don't! I shall be crazy, I shall die, if you go on
+like that." Poor innocent, unhappy people, who never wronged a
+fellow-creature in their lives!
+
+But Ivan--what is their anguish to his? They dare not leave him alone
+lest he do himself an injury. He is perfectly mute and listless; he
+cannot weep, he can neither eat nor sleep. He sits like one in a
+horrid dream. "Oh, my poor, poor brother!" Maren cries in tones of
+deepest grief, when I speak his name to her next day. She herself
+cannot rest a moment till she hears that Louis is taken; at every
+sound her crazed imagination fancies he is coming back for her; she is
+fairly beside herself with terror and anxiety; but the night following
+that of the catastrophe brings us news that he is arrested, and there
+is stern rejoicing at the Shoals; but no vengeance on him can bring
+back those unoffending lives, or restore that gentle home. The dead
+are properly cared for; the blood is washed from Anethe's beautiful
+bright hair; she is clothed in her wedding-dress, the blue dress in
+which she was married, poor child, that happy Christmas time in
+Norway, a little more than a year ago. They are carried across the sea
+to Portsmouth, the burial service is read over them, and they are
+hidden in the earth. After poor Ivan has seen the faces of his wife
+and sister still and pale in their coffins, their ghastly wounds
+concealed as much as possible, flowers upon them and the priest
+praying over them, his trance of misery is broken, the grasp of
+despair is loosened a little about his heart. Yet hardly does he
+notice whether the sun shines or no, or care whether he lives or dies.
+Slowly his senses steady themselves from the effects of a shock that
+nearly destroyed him, and merciful time, with imperceptible touch,
+softens day by day the outlines of that picture, at the memory of
+which he will never cease to shudder while he lives.
+
+Louis Wagner was captured in Boston on the evening of the next day
+after his atrocious deed, and Friday morning, followed by a hooting
+mob, he was taken to the Eastern depot. At every station along the
+route crowds were assembled, and there were fierce cries for
+vengeance. At the depot in Portsmouth a dense crowd of thousands of
+both sexes had gathered, who assailed him with yells and curses and
+cries of "Tear him to pieces!" It was with difficulty he was at last
+safely imprisoned. Poor Maren was taken to Portsmouth from Appledore
+on that day. The story of Wagner's day in Boston, like every other
+detail of the affair, has been told by every newspaper in the country:
+his agitation and restlessness, noted by all who saw him; his curious,
+reckless talk. To one he says, "I have just killed two sailors;" to
+another, Jacob Toldtman, into whose shop he goes to buy shoes, "I have
+seen a woman lie as still as that boot," and so on. When he is caught
+he puts on a bold face and determines to brave it out; denies
+everything with tears and virtuous indignation. The men whom he has so
+fearfully wronged are confronted with him; his attitude is one of
+injured innocence; he surveys them more in sorrow than in anger, while
+John is on fire with wrath and indignation, and hurls maledictions at
+him; but Ivan, poor Ivan, hurt beyond all hope or help, is utterly
+mute; he does not utter one word. Of what use is it to curse the
+murderer of his wife? It will not bring her back; he has no heart for
+cursing, he is too completely broken. Maren told me the first time she
+was brought into Louis's presence, her heart leaped so fast she could
+hardly breathe. She entered the room softly with her husband and
+Mathew Jonsen's daughter. Louis was whittling a stick. He looked up
+and saw her face, and the color ebbed out of his, and rushed back and
+stood in one burning spot in his cheek, as he looked at her and she
+looked at him for a space, in silence. Then he drew about his evil
+mind the detestable garment of sanctimoniousness, and in sentimental
+accents he murmured, "I'm glad Jesus loves me!" "The devil loves you!"
+cried John, with uncompromising veracity. "I know it wasn't nice,"
+said decorous Maren, "but John couldn't help it; it was too much to
+bear!"
+
+The next Saturday afternoon, when he was to be taken to Saco, hundreds
+of fishermen came to Portsmouth from all parts of the coast,
+determined on his destruction, and there was a fearful scene in the
+quiet streets of that peaceful city when he was being escorted to the
+train by the police and various officers of justice. Two thousand
+people had assembled, and such a furious, yelling crowd was never seen
+or heard in Portsmouth. The air was rent with cries for vengeance;
+showers of bricks and stones were thrown from all directions, and
+wounded several of the officers who surrounded Wagner. His knees
+trembled under him, he shook like an aspen, and the officers found it
+necessary to drag him along, telling him he must keep up if he would
+save his life. Except that they feared to injure the innocent as well
+as the guilty, those men would have literally torn him to pieces. But
+at last he was put on board the cars in safety, and carried away to
+prison. His demeanor throughout the term of his confinement, and
+during his trial and subsequent imprisonment, was a wonderful piece of
+acting. He really inspired people with doubt as to his guilt. I make
+an extract from the Portsmouth Chronicle, dated March 13th, 1873:
+"Wagner still retains his amazing _sang froid_, which is wonderful,
+even in a strong-nerved German. The sympathy of most of the visitors
+at his jail has certainly been won by his calmness and his general
+appearance, which is quite prepossessing." This little instance of his
+method of proceeding I must subjoin: A lady who had come to converse
+with him on the subject of his eternal salvation said, as she left
+him, "I hope you put your trust in the Lord," to which he sweetly
+answered, "I always did, ma'am, and I always shall."
+
+A few weeks after all this had happened, I sat by the window one
+afternoon, and, looking up from my work, I saw some one passing
+slowly,--a young man who seemed so thin, so pale, so bent and ill,
+that I said, "Here is some stranger who is so very sick, he is
+probably come to try the effect of the air, even thus early." It was
+Ivan Christensen. I did not recognize him. He dragged one foot after
+the other wearily, and walked with the feeble motion of an old man. He
+entered the house; his errand was to ask for work. He could not bear
+to go away from the neighborhood of the place where Anethe had lived
+and where they had been so happy, and he could not bear to work at
+fishing on the south side of the island, within sight of that house.
+There was work enough for him here; a kind voice told him so, a kind
+hand was laid on his shoulder, and he was bidden come and welcome. The
+tears rushed into the poor fellow's eyes, he went hastily away, and
+that night sent over his chest of tools,--he was a carpenter by trade.
+Next day he took up his abode here and worked all summer. Every day I
+carefully observed him as I passed him by, regarding him with an
+inexpressible pity, of which he was perfectly unconscious, as he
+seemed to be of everything and everybody. He never raised his head
+when he answered my "Good-morning," or "Good-evening, Ivan." Though I
+often wished to speak, I never said more to him, for he seemed to me
+to be hurt too sorely to be touched by human hand. With his head sunk
+on his breast, and wearily dragging his limbs, he pushed the plane or
+drove the saw to and fro with a kind of dogged persistence, looking
+neither to the left nor right. Well might the weight of woe he carried
+bow him to the earth! By and by he spoke, himself, to other members of
+the household, saying, with a patient sorrow, he believed it was to
+have been, it had so been ordered, else why did all things so play
+into Louis's hands? All things were furnished him: the knowledge of
+the unprotected state of the women, a perfectly clear field in which
+to carry out his plans, just the right boat he wanted in which to make
+his voyage, fair tide, fair wind, calm sea, just moonlight enough;
+even the ax with which to kill Anethe stood ready to his hand at the
+house door. Alas, it was to have been! Last summer Ivan went back
+again to Norway--alone. Hardly is it probable that he will ever return
+to a land whose welcome to him fate made so horrible. His sister Maren
+and her husband still live blameless lives, with the little dog Ringe,
+in a new home they have made for themselves in Portsmouth, not far
+from the river-side; the merciful lapse of days and years takes them
+gently but surely away from the thought of that season of anguish; and
+though they can never forget it all, they have grown resigned and
+quiet again. And on the island other Norwegians have settled, voices
+of charming children sound sweetly in the solitude that echoed so
+awfully to the shrieks of Karen and Maren. But to the weirdness of the
+winter midnight something is added, a vision of two dim, reproachful
+shades who watch while an agonized ghost prowls eternally about the
+dilapidated houses at the beach's edge, close by the black, whispering
+water, seeking for the woman who has escaped him--escaped to bring
+upon him the death he deserves, whom he never, never, never can find,
+though his distracted spirit may search till man shall vanish from off
+the face of the earth, and time shall be no more.
+
+
+
+
+VENETIAN GLASS.
+
+BY BRANDER MATTHEWS.
+
+_Hitherto unpublished._
+
+
+                         I.
+
+                  IN THE OLD WORLD.
+
+They had been to the Lido for a short swim in the slight but bracing
+surf of the Adriatic. They had had a midday breakfast in a queer
+little restaurant, known only to the initiated and therefore early
+discovered by Larry, who had a keen scent for a cook learned in the
+law. They had loitered along the Riva degli Schiavoni, looking at a
+perambulatory puppet-show, before which a delighted audience sturdily
+disregarded the sharp wind which bravely fluttered the picturesque
+tatters of the spectators; and they were moved to congratulate the
+Venetians on their freedom from the monotonous repertory of the
+Anglo-American Punch-and-Judy, which consists solely of a play really
+unique in the exact sense of that much-abused word. They were getting
+their fill of the delicious Italian art which is best described by an
+American verb--to loaf. And yet they were not wont to be idle, and
+they had both the sharp, quick American manner, on which laziness sits
+uneasily and infrequently.
+
+John Manning and Laurence Laughton were both young New Yorkers.
+Larry--for so in youth was he called by everybody pending the arrival
+of years which should make him a universal uncle, to be known of all
+men as "Uncle Larry"--was as pleasant a travelling companion as one
+could wish. He was the only son and heir of a father, now no more, but
+vaguely understood when alive and in the flesh to have been "in the
+China trade"--although whether this meant crockery or Cathay no one
+was able with precision to declare. Larry Laughton had been graduated
+from Columbia College with the class of 1860, and the following spring
+found him here in Venice after a six months' ramble through Europe
+with his old friend, John Manning, partly on foot and partly in an old
+carriage of their own, in which they enjoyed the fast-vanishing
+pleasures of posting.
+
+John Manning was a little older than Larry; he had left West Point in
+1854 with a commission as second lieutenant in the ----first Cavalry.
+For nearly six years he did his duty in that state of life in which it
+pleased the Secretary of War and General Scott to call him; he had
+crossed the plains one bleak winter to a post in the Rocky Mountains,
+and he had danced through two summers at Fort Adams at Newport; he had
+been stationed for a while in New Mexico, where there was an abundance
+of the pleasant sport of Indian-fighting--even now he had only to make
+believe a little to see the tufted head of a Navajo peer around the
+columns supporting the Lion of Saint Mark, or to mistake the fringe of
+_facchini_ on the edge of the Grand Canal for a group of the shiftless
+half-breeds of New Mexico. In time the ----first Cavalry had been
+ordered North, where the work was then less pleasant than on the
+border; and, in fact, it was a distinct unwillingness to execute the
+Fugitive Slave Law which forced John Manning to resign his commission
+in the army, although it was the hanging of John Brown which drew from
+him the actual letter of resignation. Before settling down to other
+work, for he was a man who could not and would not be idle, he had
+gratified his long desire of taking a turn through the Old World.
+Larry Laughton had joined him in Holland, where he had been making
+researches into the family history, and proving to his own
+satisfaction at least that the New York Mannings, in spite of their
+English name, had come from Amsterdam to New Amsterdam. And now,
+toward the end of April, 1861, John Manning and Laurence Laughton
+stood on the Rialto, hesitating _Fra Marco e Todaro_, as the Venetians
+have it, in uninterested question whether they should go into the
+Ghetto, among the hideous homes of the chosen people, or out again to
+Murano for a second visit to the famous factory of Venetian glass.
+
+"I say, John," remarked Larry as they lazily debated the question,
+gazing meanwhile on the steady succession of gondolas coming and going
+to and from the steps by the side of the bridge, "I'd as lief if not
+liefer go to Murano again, if they've any of their patent anti-poison
+goblets left. You know they say they used to make a glass so fine that
+it was shattered into shivers whenever poison might be poured into it.
+Of course I don't believe it, but a glass like that would be mighty
+handy in the sample-rooms of New York. I'm afraid a man walking up
+Broadway could use up a gross of the anti-poison goblets before he got
+one straight drink of the genuine article, unadulterated and drawn
+from the wood."
+
+"You must not make fun of a poetic legend, Larry. You have to believe
+everything over here or you do not get the worth of your money," said
+John Manning.
+
+"Well, I don't know," was Larry's reply; "I don't know just what to
+believe. I was talking about it last night at Florian's, while you
+were writing letters home."
+
+"I did not know Mr. Laughton had friends in Venice."
+
+"Oh, I can make friends anywhere. And this one was lots of fun. He was
+a priest, an _abbate_, I think he calls himself. He had read five
+newspapers in the _caffe_ and paid for one tiny cup of coffee. When I
+finished the _Debats_ I passed it to him for his sixth--and he spoke
+to me in French, and I wasn't going to let an Italian talk French to
+me without answering back, so I just sailed in and began to swap
+stories with him."
+
+"No doubt you gave him much valuable information."
+
+"Well, I did; I just exuded information. Why, the first thing he said,
+when I told him I was an American, was to wonder whether I hadn't met
+his brother, who was also in America--in Rio Janeiro--just as if Rio
+was the other side of the North River!"
+
+John Manning smiled at Larry's disgusted expression, and asked, "What
+has this _abbate_ to do with the fragile Venetian glass?"
+
+"Only this," answered Larry. "I told him two or three North-westers,
+just as well as I could in French, and then he said that marvellous
+things were also done here once upon a time. And he told me about the
+glass which broke when poison was poured into it."
+
+"It is a pleasant superstition," said John Manning. "I think Poe makes
+use of it, and I believe Shakespeare refers to it."
+
+"But did either Poe or Shakespeare say anything about the two goblets
+just alike made for the twin brothers Manin nearly four hundred years
+ago? Did they tell you how one glass was shivered by poison and its
+owner killed, and how the other brother had to flee for his life? Did
+they inform you that the unbroken goblet exists to this day, and is
+in fact now for sale by an Hebrew Jew who peddles antiquities? Did
+they tell you that?"
+
+"Neither Edgar Allan Poe nor William Shakespeare ever disturbs my
+slumbers by telling me anything of the sort," laughed Manning.
+
+"Well, my _abbate_ told me just that, and he gave me the address of
+the Shylock who has the surviving goblet for sale."
+
+"Suppose we go there and see it," suggested Manning, "and you can tell
+me the whole story of the twin brothers as we go along."
+
+"Shall we take a gondola or walk?" was Larry's interrogative
+acceptance of the suggestion.
+
+"It's in the Ghetto, isn't it?"
+
+"Most of the Jew curiosity dealers have left the Ghetto. Our Shylock
+has a palace on the Grand Canal. I guess we had better take a gondola,
+though it can't be far."
+
+So they sat themselves down in one of the aquatic cabs which ply the
+water streets of the city in the sea. The gondolier stood to his oar
+and put his best foot foremost, and as the boat sped forward on its
+way along the capital S of the Grand Canal, Larry told the tale of the
+twin brothers and the shattered goblet.
+
+"Well, it seems that some time in the sixteenth century, say three
+hundred years ago or thereabout, there were several branches of the
+great and powerful Manin family--the same family to which the
+patriotic Daniele Manin belonged, you know. And at the head of one of
+these branches were the twin brothers Marco Manin and Giovanni Manin.
+Now, these brothers were devoted to each other, and they had only one
+thought, one word, one deed. When one of them happened to think of a
+thing, it often happened that the other brother did it. So it was not
+surprising that they both fell in love with the same woman. She was a
+dangerous-looking, yellow-haired woman, with steel-gray eyes--that is,
+if her eyes were not really green, as to which there was doubt. But
+there was no doubt at all that she was powerfully handsome. The
+_abbate_ said that there was a famous portrait of her in one of these
+churches as a Saint Mary Magdalen with her hair down. She was a
+splendid creature, and lots of men were running after her besides the
+twin Manins. The two brothers did not quarrel with each other about
+the woman, but they did quarrel with some of her other lovers, and
+particularly with a nobleman of the highest rank and power, who was
+supposed to belong not only to the Council of Ten but to the Three.
+Between this man and the Manins there was war to the knife and the
+knife to the hilt. One day Marco Manin expressed a wish for one of
+these goblets of Venetian glass so fine that poison shatters it, and
+so Giovanni went out to Murano and ordered two of them, of the very
+finest quality, and just alike in every particular of color and shape
+and size. You see the twins always had everything in pairs. But the
+people at Murano somehow misunderstood the order, and although they
+made both glasses they sent home only one. Marco Manin was at table
+when it arrived, and he took it in his hand at once, and after
+admiring its exquisite workmanship--you see, all these old Venetians
+had the art-feeling strongly developed--he told a servant to fill it
+to the brim with Cyprus wine. But as he raised the flowing cup to his
+lips it shivered in his grasp and the wine was spilt on the marble
+floor. He drew his sword and slew the servant who had sought to betray
+him, and rushing into the street he found himself face to face with
+the enemy whom he knew to have instigated the attempt. They crossed
+swords at once, but before Marco Manin could have a fair fight for his
+life he was stabbed in the back by a glass stiletto, the hilt of which
+was broken off short in the wound."
+
+"Where was his brother all this time?" was the first question with
+which John Manning broke the thread of his friend's story.
+
+"He had been to see the yellow-haired beauty, and he came back just in
+time to meet his brother's lifeless body as it was carried into their
+desolate home. Holding his dead brother's hand as he had often held it
+living, he promised his brother to avenge his death without delay and
+at any cost. Then he prepared at once for flight. He knew that Venice
+would be too hot to hold him when the deed was done; and besides, he
+felt that without his brother life in Venice would be intolerable. So
+he made ready for flight. Twenty-four hours to a minute after Marco
+Manin's death the body of the hireling assassin was sinking to the
+bottom of the Grand Canal, while the man who had paid for the murder
+lay dead on the same spot with the point of a glass stiletto in his
+heart! And when they wanted to send him the other goblet, there was no
+one to send it to: Giovanni Manin had disappeared."
+
+"Where had he gone?" queried John Manning.
+
+"That's what I asked the _abbate_, and he said he didn't know for
+sure, but that in those days Venice had a sizable trade with the Low
+Countries, and there was a tradition that Giovanni Manin had gone to
+the Netherlands."
+
+"To Holland?" asked John Manning with unwonted interest.
+
+"Yes, to Amsterdam or to Rotterdam or to some one of those --dam
+towns, as we used to call them in our geography class."
+
+"It was to Amsterdam," said Manning, speaking as one who had certain
+information.
+
+"How do you know that?" asked Larry. "Even the _abbate_ said it was
+only a tradition that he had gone to Holland at all."
+
+"He went to Amsterdam," said Manning; "that I know."
+
+Before Larry could ask how it was that his friend knew anything about
+the place of exile of a man whom he had never heard of ten minutes
+earlier, the gondola had paused before the door of the palace in which
+dwelt the dealer in antiquities who had in his possession the famous
+goblet of Venetian glass. As they ascended to the sequence of rambling
+rooms cluttered with old furniture, rusty armor, and odds and ends of
+statuary, in the which the modern Jew of Venice sat at the receipt of
+custom, both Larry Laughton and John Manning had to give their
+undivided attention to the framing in Italian of their wishes. Shylock
+himself was a venerable and benevolent person, with a look of
+wonderful shrewdness and an incomprehensibility of speech, for he
+spoke the Venetian dialect with a harsh Jewish accent, either of which
+would have daunted a linguistic veteran. Plainly enough, conversation
+was impossible, for he could barely understand their American-Italian,
+and they could not at all understand his Jewish-Venetian. But it would
+not do to let these _Inglesi_ go away without paying tribute.
+
+"Cio!" said Shylock, smiling graciously at his futile attempts to open
+communication with the enemy. Then he called Jessica from the deep
+window where she had been at work on the quaint old account-books of
+the shop, as great curiosities as anything in it, since they were kept
+in Venetian, but by means of the Hebrew alphabet. She spoke Italian,
+and to her the young men made known their wants. She said a few words
+to her father, and he brought forth the goblet.
+
+It was a marvellous specimen of the most exquisite Venetian
+workmanship. A pair of green serpents with eyes that glowed like fire
+writhed around the golden stem of a blood-red bowl, and as the white
+light of the cloudless sky fell on it from the broad window, it burned
+in the glory of the sunshine and seemed to fill itself full of some
+mysterious and royal wine. Shylock revolved it slowly in his hand to
+show the strange waviness of its texture, and as it turned, the
+serpents clung more closely to the stem and arched their heads and
+shot a glance of hate at the strangers who came to gaze on them with
+curious fascination.
+
+John Manning looked at the goblet long and eagerly. "How did it come
+into your possession?" he asked.
+
+And Jessica translated Shylock's declaration that the goblet had been
+at Murano for hundreds of years; it was _antico--antichissimo_, as the
+signor could see for himself. It was of the best period of the art.
+That Shylock would guarantee. How came it into his possession? By the
+greatest good fortune. It was taken from Murano during the troubles
+after the fall of the Republic in the time of Napoleon. It had gone
+finally into the hands of a certain count, who, very luckily, was
+poor. _Conte che non conta, non conta niente._ So Shylock had been
+enabled to buy it. It had been the desire of his heart for years to
+own so fine an object.
+
+"How much do you want for it?" asked John Manning.
+
+Shylock scented from afar the battle of bargaining, dear in Italy to
+both buyer and seller. He gave a keen look at both the _Inglesi_, and
+took up the glass affectionately, as though he could not bear to part
+with it. Jessica interpreted. Shylock had intended that goblet for his
+own private collection, but the frank and generous manner of their
+excellencies had overcome him, and he would let them have it for five
+hundred florins.
+
+"Five hundred florins! Phew!" whistled Larry, astonished in spite of
+his initiation into the mysteries of Italian bargaining. "Well, if you
+were to ask me the Shakespearian conundrum, Hath not a Jew eyes? I
+shouldn't give it up; I should say he has eyes--for the main chance."
+
+"Five hundred florins," said John Manning. "Very well. I'll take it."
+
+Shylock's astonishment at getting four times what he would have taken
+was equalled only by his regret that he had not asked twice as much.
+
+"Can you pack it so that I can take it to New York safely?"
+
+"_Sicuro_, signor," and Shylock agreed to have the precious object
+boxed with all possible care and despatch, and delivered at the hotel
+that afternoon.
+
+"Servo suo!" said Jessica, as they stood at the door.
+
+"Bon di, Patron!" responded Larry in Venetian fashion; then as the
+door closed behind them he said to John Manning, "Seems to me you were
+in a hurry! You could have had that glass for half the money."
+
+"Perhaps I could," was Manning's quiet reply, "but I was eager to get
+it back at once."
+
+"Get it back? Why, it wasn't stolen from _you_, was it? I never did
+suppose _he_ came by it honestly."
+
+"It was not stolen from me personally. But it belonged to my family.
+It was made for Giovanni Manin, who fled from Venice to Amsterdam
+three hundred odd years ago. His grandson and namesake left Amsterdam
+for New Amsterdam half a century later. And when the English changed
+New Amsterdam into New York, Jan Mannin became John Manning--and I am
+his direct descendant, and the first of my blood to return to Venice
+to get the goblet Giovanni Manin ordered and left behind."
+
+"Well, I'm damned!" said Larry, pensively.
+
+"And now," continued John Manning as they took their seats in the
+gondola, "tell the man to go to the church where the picture of Mary
+Magdalen is. I want a good look at that woman!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the evening, as John Manning sat in a little _caffe_ under the
+arcades of the Piazza San Marco, sipping a tiny cup of black coffee,
+Larry entered with a rush of righteous indignation.
+
+"What's the matter, Larry?" was John Manning's calm query.
+
+"There's the devil to pay at home. South Carolina has fired on the
+flag at Sumter."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three weeks later Colonel Manning was assigned to duty in the Army of
+the Potomac.
+
+
+                         II.
+
+                  IN THE NEW WORLD.
+
+In the month of February, 1864, a chance newspaper paragraph informed
+whom it might concern that Major Laurence Laughton, having three
+weeks' leave of absence from his regiment, was at the Astor House. In
+consequence of this advertisement of his whereabouts, Major Laughton
+received many cheerful circulars and letters, in most of which his
+attention was claimed for the artificial limb made by the advertiser.
+He also received a letter from Colonel John Manning urgently bidding
+him to come out for a day at least to his little place on the Hudson,
+where he was lying sick, and, as he feared, sick unto death. On the
+receipt of this Larry cut short a promising flirtation with a
+war-widow who sat next him at table and took the first train up the
+river. It was a bleak day, and there was at least a foot of snow on
+the ground, as hard and as dry as though it had clean forgot that it
+was made of water. As Larry left the little station, to which the
+train had slowly struggled at last, an hour behind time, the wind
+sprang up again and began to moan around his feet and to sting his
+face with icy shot; and as he trudged across the desolate path which
+led to Manning's lonely house he discovered that Rude Boreas could be
+as keen a sharpshooter as any in the rifle-pits around Richmond. A
+hard walk up-hill for a quarter of an hour brought him to the brow of
+the cliff on which stood the forlorn and wind-swept house where John
+Manning lay. An unkempt and hideous old crone as black as night opened
+the door for him. He left in the hall his hat and overcoat and a
+little square box he had brought in his hand; and then he followed the
+ebony hag up-stairs to Colonel Manning's room. Here at the door she
+left him, after giving a sharp knock. A weak voice said, "Come in!"
+
+Laurence Laughton entered the room with a quick step, but the
+light-hearted words with which he had meant to encourage his friend
+died on his lips as soon as he saw how grievously that friend had
+changed. John Manning had faded to a shadow of his former self; the
+light of his eye was quenched, and the spirit within him seemed
+broken; the fine, sensitive, noble face lay white against the pillow,
+looking weary and wan and hopeless. The effort to greet his friend
+exhausted him and brought on a hard cough, and he pressed his hand to
+his breast as though some hidden malady were gnawing and burning
+within.
+
+"Well, John," said Larry, as he took a seat by the bedside, "why
+didn't you let me know before now that you were laid up? I could have
+got away a month ago."
+
+"Time enough yet," said John Manning slowly; "time enough yet. I
+shall not die for another week, I fear."
+
+"Why, man, you must not talk like that. You are as good as a dozen
+dead men yet," said Larry, trying to look as cheerful as might be.
+
+"I am as good as dead myself," said the sick man seriously, as
+befitted a man under the shadow of death; "and I have no wish to live.
+The sooner I am out of this pain and powerlessness the better I shall
+like it."
+
+"I say, John, old man, this is no way for you to talk. Brace up, and
+you will soon be another man!"
+
+"I shall soon be in another world, I hope," and the helpless misery of
+the tone in which these few words were said smote Laurence Laughton to
+the heart.
+
+"What's the matter with you?" he asked with as lively an air as he
+could attain, for the ominous and inexplicable sadness of the
+situation was fast taking hold on him.
+
+"I have a bullet through the lungs and a pain in the heart."
+
+"But men do not die of a bullet in the lungs and a pain in the heart,"
+was Larry's encouraging response.
+
+"I shall."
+
+"Why should you more than others?"
+
+"Because there is something else--something mysterious, some unknown
+malady--which bears me down and burns me up. There is no use trying
+to deceive me, Larry. My papers are made out, and I shall get my
+discharge from the Army of the Living in a very few days now. But I
+must not waste the little breath I have left in talking about myself.
+I sent for you to ask a favor."
+
+Larry held out his hand, and John Manning took it and seemed to gain
+strength from the firm clasp.
+
+"I knew I could rely on you," he said, "for much or for little. And
+this is not much, for I have not much to leave. This worn old house,
+which belonged to my grandmother, and in which I spent the happiest
+hours of my boyhood, this and a few shares of stock here and there,
+are all I have to leave. I do not know what the house is worth--and I
+shall be glad when I am gone from it. If I had not come here, I think
+I might perhaps have got well. There seems to be something deadly
+about the place." The sick man's voice sank to a wavering whisper, as
+though borne down by a sudden weight of impending danger against which
+he might struggle in vain; he gave a fearful glance about the room as
+though seeking a mystic foe, hidden and unknown. "The very first day
+we were here the cat lapped its milk by the fire and then stretched
+itself out and died without a sign. And I had not been here two days
+before I felt the fatal influence: the trouble from my wound came on
+again, and this awful burning in my breast began to torture me. As a
+boy, I thought that heaven must be like this house; and now I should
+not want to die if I thought hell could be worse!"
+
+"Why don't you leave the place, since you hate it so?" asked Larry,
+with what scant cheeriness he could muster; he was yielding himself
+slowly to the place, though he fought bravely against his
+superstitious weakness.
+
+"Am I fit to be moved?" was the sick man's query in reply.
+
+"But you will be better soon, and then--"
+
+"I shall be worse before I am better, and I shall never be better in
+this life or in this place. No, no, I must die in my hole like a dog.
+Like a dog!" and John Manning repeated the words with a wistful face.
+"Do you remember the faithful beast who always welcomed me here when
+we came up before we went to Europe?"
+
+"Of course I do," said Larry, glad to get the sick man away from his
+sickness, and to ease his mind by talk on a healthy topic; "he was a
+splendid fellow, too. Cesar, that was his name, wasn't it?"
+
+"Cesar Borgia I called him," was Manning's sad reply. "I knew you
+could not have forgotten him. He is dead. Cesar Borgia is dead. He was
+the last living thing that loved me--except you, Larry, I know--and he
+is dead. He died this morning. He came to my bedside as usual, and he
+licked my hand gently and looked up in my face and laid him down
+alongside of me on the carpet here and died. Poor Cesar Borgia--he
+loved me, and he is dead! And you, Larry, you must not stay here. The
+air is fatal. Every breath may be your last. When you have heard what
+I want, you must be off at once. If you like, you may come up again to
+the funeral before your leave is up. I saw you had three weeks."
+
+Laurence Laughton moved uneasily in his chair and swallowed with
+difficulty. "John," he managed to say after an effort, "if you talk to
+me like that, I shall go at once. Tell me what it is you want me to do
+for you."
+
+"I want you to take care of my wife and of my child, if there be one
+born to me after my death."
+
+"Your wife?" repeated Larry, in staring surprise.
+
+"You did not know I was married? I knew it at the time, as the boy
+said," and John Manning smiled bitterly.
+
+"Where is she?" was Larry's second query.
+
+"Here."
+
+"Here?"
+
+"In this house. You shall see her before you go. And after the funeral
+I want you to get her away from here with what speed you can. Sell
+this house for what it will bring, and put the money into government
+bonds. You may find it hard to persuade her to move, for she seems to
+have a strange liking for this place. She breathes freely in the
+deadly air that suffocates me. But you must not let her remain here;
+this is no place for her now that a new life and new duties are before
+her."
+
+"How was it I did not know of your marriage?" asked Larry.
+
+"I knew nothing about it myself twenty-four hours before it happened,"
+answered John Manning. "You need not look surprised. It is a simple
+story. I had this shot through the breast at Gettysburg last Fourth of
+July. I lay on the hill-side a day and a night before relief came.
+Then a farmer took me into his house. A military surgeon dressed my
+wounds, but I owed my life to the nursing and care and unceasing
+attention of a young lady who was staying with the farmer's daughter.
+She had been doing her duty as a nurse as near to the field as she
+could go ever since the first Bull Run. She saved my life, and I gave
+it to her--what there was of it. She was a beautiful woman, indeed I
+never saw a more beautiful--and she has a strange likeness to--but
+that you shall see for yourself when you see her. She is getting a
+little rest now, for she has been up all night attending to me. She
+_will_ wait on me in spite of all I say; of course I know there is no
+use wasting effort on me now. She is the most devoted nurse in the
+world; and we shall part as we met--she taking care of me at the last
+as she did at the first. Would God our relation had never been other
+than patient and nurse! It would have been better for both had we
+never been husband and wife!" And John Manning turned his face to the
+wall with a weary sigh; then he coughed harshly and raised his hand to
+his breast as though to stifle the burning within him.
+
+"It seems to me, John, that you ought not to talk like that of the
+woman you loved," said Laurence Laughton, with unusual seriousness.
+
+"I never loved her," answered Manning, coldly. Then he turned and
+asked hastily, "Do you think I should want to die, if I loved her?"
+
+"But she loves you," said Laurence.
+
+"She never loved me!" was Manning's impatient retort.
+
+"Then why were you married?"
+
+"That's what I would like to know. It was fate, I suppose. What is to
+be, is. I never used to believe in predestination, but I know that of
+my own free will I could never have done what I did."
+
+"I confess I do not understand you," said Larry.
+
+"I do not understand myself. There is so much in this world that is
+mysterious--I hope the next will be different. I was under the charm,
+I fancy, when I married her. She is a beautiful woman, as I told you,
+and I was a man, and I was weak, and I had hope. Why she married me
+that early September evening, I do not know. It was not long before we
+both found out our mistake. And it was too late then. We were man and
+wife. Don't suppose I blame her--I do not. I have no cause of
+complaint. She is a good wife to me, as I have tried to be a good
+husband to her. We made a mistake in marrying each other, and we know
+it--that's all!"
+
+Before Laurence Laughton could answer, the door opened gently and
+Mrs. Manning entered the room. Laurence rose to greet his friend's
+wife, but the act was none the less a homage to her resplendent
+beauty. In spite of the worn look of her face, she was the most
+beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had tawny tigress hair
+and hungry tigress eyes. The eyes indeed were fathomless and
+indescribable, and their fitful glance had something uncanny about
+it. The hair was nearly of the true Venetian color, and she had the
+true Venetian sumptuousness of appearance, simple as was her attire.
+She seemed as though she had just risen from the couch whereon she
+reclined before Titian or Tintoretto, and, having clothed herself, had
+walked forth in this nineteenth century and these United States. She
+was a strange and striking figure, and Laurence found it impossible to
+analyze exactly the curious and weird impression she produced on him.
+Her voice, as she greeted him, gave him a peculiar thrill; and when he
+shook hands with her he seemed to feel himself face to face with some
+strange being from another land and another century. She inspired him
+with a supernatural awe he was not wont to feel in the presence of
+woman. He had a dim consciousness that there lingered in his memory
+the glimmering image of some woman seen somewhere, he knew not when,
+who was like unto the woman before him.
+
+As she took her seat by the side of the bed, she gave Laurence
+Laughton a look that seemed to peer into his soul. Laurence felt
+himself quiver under it. It was a look to make a man fearful. Then
+John Manning, who had moved uneasily as his wife entered, said,
+"Laurence, can you see any resemblance in my wife to any one you ever
+saw before?"
+
+Their eyes met again, and again Laurence had a vague remembrance as
+though he and she had stood face to face before in some earlier
+existence. Then his wandering recollections took shape, and he
+remembered the face and the form and the haunting mystery of the
+expression, and he felt for a moment as though he had been permitted
+to peer into the cabalistic darkness of an awful mystery, though he
+failed wholly to perceive its occult significance--if significance
+there were of any sort.
+
+"I think I do remember," he said at last. "It was in Venice--at the
+church of Santa Maria Madalena--the picture there that--"
+
+"You remember aright!" interrupted John Manning. "My wife is the
+living image of the Venetian woman for whose beauty Marco Manin was
+one day stabbed in the back with a glass stiletto and Giovanni Manin
+fled from the place of his birth and never saw it again. It is idle to
+fight against the stars in their courses. We met here in the New
+World, she and I, as they met in the Old World so long ago--and the
+end is the same. It was to be ... it was to be!"
+
+Laurence Laughton gave a swift glance at his friend's wife to see what
+effect these words might have on her, and he was startled to detect
+on her face the same enigmatic smile which was the chief memory he had
+retained of the Venetian picture. Truly, the likeness between the
+painting and the wife of his friend was marvellous; and Laurence tried
+to shake off a morbid wonder whether there might be any obscure and
+inscrutable survival from one generation to another across the seas
+and across the years.
+
+"If you remember the picture," said John Manning, "perhaps you
+remember the quaint goblet of Venetian glass I bought the same day?"
+
+"Of course I do," said Larry, glad to get Manning started on a topic
+of talk a little less personal.
+
+"Perhaps you know what has become of it?" asked Manning.
+
+"I can answer 'of course' to that, too," replied Larry, "because I
+have it here."
+
+"Here?"
+
+"Here--in a little square box, in the hall," answered Larry. "I had it
+in my trunk, you know, when we took passage on the _Vanderbilt_ at
+Havre that May morning. I forgot to give it to you in the hurry of
+landing, and I haven't had a chance since. This is the first time I
+have seen you for nearly three years. I found the box this morning,
+and I thought you might like to have it again, so I brought it up."
+
+John Manning rang the bell at the head of his bed. The black crone
+answered it, and soon returned with the little square box. Manning
+impatiently broke the seals and cords that bound its cover and began
+eagerly to release the goblet from the cotton and tissue paper in
+which it had been carefully swathed and bandaged. Mrs. Manning, though
+her moods were subtler and more intense, showed an anxiety to see the
+goblet quite as feverish as her husband's. In a minute the last
+wrapping was twisted off and the full beauty of the Venetian glass was
+revealed to them. Assuredly no praise was too loud for its delicate
+and exquisite workmanship.
+
+"Does Mrs. Manning know the story of the goblet?" asked Larry; "has
+she been told of the peculiar virtue ascribed to it?"
+
+"She has too great a fondness for the horrible and the fantastic not
+to have heard the story in its smallest details," said Manning.
+
+Mrs. Manning had taken the glass in her fine, thin hands. Evidently it
+and its mystic legend had a morbid fascination for her. A strange
+light gleamed in her wondrous eyes, and Laughton was startled again to
+see the extraordinary resemblance between her and the picture they had
+looked at on the day the goblet had been bought.
+
+"When the poison was poured into it," she said at last, with quick and
+restless glances at the two men, "the glass broke--then the tale was
+true?"
+
+"It was a coincidence only, I'm afraid," said her husband, who had
+rallied and regained strength under the unwonted excitement.
+
+Just then the old-fashioned clock on the stairs struck five. Mrs.
+Manning started up, holding the goblet in her hand.
+
+"It is time for your medicine," she said.
+
+"As you please," answered her husband wearily, sinking back on his
+pillow. "My wife insists on giving me every drop of my potions with
+her own hands. I shall not trouble her much longer, and I doubt if it
+is any use for her to trouble me now."
+
+"I shall give you everything in this glass after this," she said.
+
+"In the Venetian glass?" asked Larry.
+
+"Yes," she said, turning on him fiercely; "why not?"
+
+"Do you think the doctor is trying to poison me?" asked her husband.
+
+"No, I do not think the doctor is trying to poison you," she repeated
+mechanically as she moved toward a little sideboard in a corner of the
+room. "But I shall give you all your medicines in this hereafter."
+
+She stood at the little sideboard, with her back toward them, and she
+mingled the contents of various phials in the Venetian goblet. Then
+she turned to cross the room to her husband. As she walked with the
+glass in her hand there was a rift in the clouds high over the other
+side of the river, and the rays of the setting sun thrust themselves
+through the window and lighted up the glory of her hair and showed the
+strange gleam in her staring eyes. Another step, and the red rays fell
+on the Venetian glass, and it burned and glowed, and the green
+serpents twined about its ruby stem seemed to twist and crawl with
+malignant life, while their scorching eyes shot fire. Another step,
+and she stood by the bedside. As John Manning reached out his hand for
+the goblet, a tremor passed through her, her fingers clinched the
+fragile stem, and the glass fell on the floor and was shattered to
+shivers as its fellow had been shattered three centuries ago and more.
+She still stared steadily before her; then her lips parted, and she
+said, "The glass broke--the glass broke--then the tale is true!" And
+with one hysteric shriek she fell forward amid the fragments of the
+Venetian goblet, unconscious thereafter of all things.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Stories by American Authors, Volume 3, by Various
+
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