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diff --git a/42831.txt b/42831.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b8e34f5..0000000 --- a/42831.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9180 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Love in a Cloud, by Arlo Bates - - -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: Love in a Cloud - A Comedy in Filigree - - -Author: Arlo Bates - - - -Release Date: May 28, 2013 [eBook #42831] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE IN A CLOUD*** - - -E-text prepared by sp1nd, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made -available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -More: Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/loveincloudcomed00bate - - - - - -LOVE IN A CLOUD - -A Comedy in Filigree - -by - -ARLO BATES - - - - - - - -Boston and New York -Houghton, Mifflin and Company -The Riverside Press, Cambridge -1900 - -Copyright, 1900, by Arlo Bates -All Rights Reserved - - - - - TO - MRS. E. L. HOMANS - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. THE MISCHIEF OF A MAID 1 - - II. THE MADNESS OF A MAN 11 - - III. THE BABBLE OF A TEA 19 - - IV. THE TICKLING OF AN AUTHOR 29 - - V. THE BLAZING OF RANK 43 - - VI. THE MISCHIEF OF A WIDOW 50 - - VII. THE COUNSEL OF A MOTHER 60 - - VIII. THE TEST OF LOVE 69 - - IX. THE MISCHIEF OF A GENTLEMAN 79 - - X. THE BUSINESS OF A CLUBMAN 89 - - XI. THE GAME OF CROSS-PURPOSES 98 - - XII. THE WASTING OF REQUESTS 108 - - XIII. THE WILE OF A WOMAN 119 - - XIV. THE CONCEALING OF SECRETS 130 - - XV. THE MISCHIEF OF A LETTER 138 - - XVI. THE DUTY OF A SON 150 - - XVII. THE BUSINESS OF A LOVER 166 - - XVIII. THE MISCHIEF OF MEN 180 - - XIX. THE CRUELTY OF LOVE 191 - - XX. THE FAITHFULNESS OF A FRIEND 198 - - XXI. THE MISCHIEF OF A FIANCE 206 - - XXII. THE COOING OF TURTLE-DOVES 220 - - XXIII. THE BUSINESS OF A MUSE 227 - - XXIV. THE MISCHIEF OF A CAD 241 - - XXV. THE WAKING OF A SPINSTER 254 - - XXVI. THE WOOING OF A WIDOW 266 - - XXVII. THE CLIMAX OF COMEDY 277 - - XXVIII. THE UNCLOUDING OF LOVE 288 - - - - -LOVE IN A CLOUD - - - - -I - -THE MISCHIEF OF A MAID - - -"No, my dear May, I positively will not hear another word about 'Love in -a Cloud.' I am tired to death of the very sound of its stupid name." - -"Oh, Mrs. Harbinger," May Calthorpe responded, eagerly defensive, "it -isn't a stupid name." - -Mrs. Harbinger settled herself back into the pile of gay cushions in the -corner of the sofa, and went on without heeding the interruption:-- - -"I have heard nothing but 'Love in a Cloud,' 'Love in a Cloud,' until it -gives me a feeling of nausea. Nobody talks of anything else." - -May nodded her head triumphantly, a bright sparkle in her brown eyes. - -"That only shows what a perfectly lovely book it is," she declared. - -Mrs. Harbinger laughed, and bent forward to arrange a ribbon at May's -throat. - -"I don't care if it is the loveliest book ever written," she responded; -"I won't have it stuffed down my throat morning, noon, and night. Why, -if you'll believe it, my husband, who never reads novels, not only read -it, but actually kept awake over it, and after that feat he'll talk of -it for months." - -Pretty May Calthorpe leaned forward with more animation than the mere -discussion of an anonymous novel seemed to call for, and caught one of -her hostess's hands in both her own. - -"Oh, did Mr. Harbinger like it?" she asked. "I am so interested to know -what he thinks of it." - -"You never will know from me, my dear," was the cool response. "I've -forbidden him to speak of it. I tell you that I am bored to death with -the old thing." - -May started up suddenly from the sofa where she had been sitting beside -Mrs. Harbinger. With rather an offended air she crossed to the -fireplace, and began to arrange her hat before the mirror over the -mantel. Mrs. Harbinger, smiling to herself, gave her attention to -setting in order the cups on the tea-table before her. The sun of the -April afternoon came in through the window, and from the polished floor -of the drawing-room was reflected in bright patches on the ceiling; the -brightness seemed to gather about the young, girlish face which looked -out from the glass, with red lips and willful brown hair in tendrils -over the white forehead. Yet as she faced her reflection, May pouted and -put on the look of one aggrieved. - -"I am sorry I mentioned the book if you are so dreadfully against it," -she observed stiffly. "I was only going to tell you a secret about the -author." - -Mrs. Harbinger laughed lightly, flashing a comical grimace at her -visitor's back. - -"There you go again, like everybody else! Do you suppose, May, that -there is anybody I know who hasn't told me a secret about the author? -Why, I'm in the confidence of at least six persons who cannot deny that -they wrote it." - -May whirled around swiftly, leaving her reflection so suddenly that it, -offended, as quickly turned its back on her. - -"Who are they?" she demanded. - -"Well," the other answered quizzically, "Mrs. Croydon, for one." - -"Mrs. Croydon! Why, nobody could dream that she wrote it!" - -"But they do. It must have been written by some one that is inside the -social ring; and there is a good deal in the style that is like her -other books. I do wish," she went on, with a note of vexation in her -voice, "that Graham would ever forget to mix up my two tea-services. He -is a perfect genius for forgetting anything he ought to remember." - -She walked, as she spoke, to the bell, and as she passed May the girl -sprang impulsively toward her, catching both her hands. - -"Oh, Mrs. Harbinger!" she cried breathlessly. "I must tell you something -before anybody comes." - -"Good gracious, May, what is it now? You are as impulsive as a pair of -bellows that could blow themselves." - -The butler came ponderously in, in reply to her ring as she spoke, and -the two women for the moment suspended all sign of emotion. - -"Graham," Mrs. Harbinger said, with the air of one long suffering and -well-nigh at the end of her patience, "you have mixed the teacups again. -Take out the tray, and bring in the cups with the broad gold band." - -Graham took up the tray and departed, his back radiating protest until -the portiere dropped behind him. When he was gone Mrs. Harbinger drew -May down to a seat on the sofa, and looked at her steadily. - -"You evidently have really something to tell," she said; "and I have an -idea that it's mischief. Out with it." - -May drew back with heightened color. - -"Oh, I don't dare to tell you!" she exclaimed. - -"Is it so bad as that?" - -"Oh, it isn't bad, only--Oh, I don't know what in the world you will -think!" - -"No matter what I think. I shan't tell you, my dear. No woman ever does -that." - -May regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and wistfulness in her -look. - -"You are talking that way just to give me courage," she said. - -"Well, then," the other returned, laughing, "take courage, and tell me. -What have you been doing?" - -"Only writing letters." - -"Only! Good gracious, May! writing letters may be worse than firing -dynamite bombs. Women's letters are apt to be double-back-action -infernal-machines; and girls' letters are a hundred times worse. Whom -did you write to?" - -"To the author of 'Love in a Cloud.'" - -"To the author of 'Love in a Cloud'? How did you know him?" - -Miss Calthorpe cast down her eyes, swallowed as if she were choking, and -then murmured faintly: "I don't know him." - -"What? Don't know him?" her friend demanded explosively. - -"Only the name he puts on his book: Christopher Calumus." - -"Which of course isn't his name at all. How in the world came you to -write to him?" - -The air of Mrs. Harbinger became each moment more judicially moral, -while that of May was correspondingly humble and deprecatory. In the -interval during which the forgetful Graham returned with the teacups -they sat silent. The culprit was twisting nervously a fold of her frock, -creasing it in a manner which would have broken the heart of the tailor -who made it. The judge regarded her with a look which was half -impatient, but full, too, of disapproving sternness. - -"How could you write to a man you don't know," insisted Mrs. -Harbinger,--"a man of whom you don't even know the name? How could you -do such a thing?" - -"Why, you see," stammered May, "I thought--that is--Well, I read the -book, and--Oh, you know, Mrs. Harbinger, the book is so perfectly -lovely, and I was just wild over it, and I--I--" - -"You thought that being wild over it wasn't enough," interpolated the -hostess in a pause; "but you must make a fool of yourself over it." - -"Why, the book was so evidently written by a gentleman, and a man that -had fine feelings," the other responded, apparently plucking up courage, -"that I--You see, I wanted to know some things that the book didn't -tell, and I--" - -"You wrote to ask!" her friend concluded, jumping up, and standing -before her companion. "Oh, for sheer infernal mischief commend me to one -of you demure girls that look as if butter wouldn't melt in your mouths! -If your father had known enough to have you educated at home instead of -abroad, you'd have more sense." - -"Oh, a girl abroad never would dare to do such a thing," May put in -naively. - -"But you thought that in America a girl might do what she pleases. Why, -do you mean to tell me that you didn't understand perfectly well that -you had no business to write to a man that you don't know? I don't -believe any such nonsense." - -May blushed very much, and hung her head. - -"But I wanted so much to know him," she murmured almost inaudibly. - -Mrs. Harbinger regarded her a moment with the expression of a mother who -has reached that stage of exasperation which is next halting-place -before castigation. Then she turned and walked vehemently up the -drawing-room and back, a quick sprint which seemed to have very little -effect in cooling her indignation. - -"How long has this nonsense been going on?" she demanded, with a new -sternness in her voice. - -"For--for six weeks," answered May tearfully. Then she lifted her -swimming eyes in pitiful appeal, and proffered a plea for mercy. "Of -course I didn't use my own name." - -"Five or six weeks!" cried Mrs. Harbinger, throwing up her hands. - -"But at first we didn't write more than once or twice a week." - -The other stared as if May were exploding a succession of torpedoes -under her very nose. - -"But--but," she stammered, apparently fairly out of breath with -amazement, "how often do you write now?" - -May sprang up in her turn. She faced her mentor with the truly virtuous -indignation of a girl who has been proved to be in the wrong. - -"I shan't tell you another word!" she declared. - -Mrs. Harbinger seized her by the shoulders, and fairly pounced upon her -in the swoop of her words. - -"How often do you write now?" she repeated. "Tell me before I shake -you!" - -The brief defiance of May vanished like the flare of a match in a -wind-storm. - -"Every day," she answered in a voice hardly audible. - -"Every day!" echoed the other in a tone of horror. - -Her look expressed that utter consternation which is beyond any -recognition of sin, but is aroused only by the most flagrant breach of -social propriety. Again the culprit put in what was evidently a prayer -for pity, couched in a form suggested by instinctive feminine cunning. - -"Oh, Mrs. Harbinger, if you only knew what beautiful letters he writes!" - -"What do I care for his beautiful letters? What did you want to drag me -into this mess for? Now I shall have to do something." - -"Oh, no, no, Mrs. Harbinger!" cried May, clasping her hands. "Don't do -anything. You won't have to do anything. I had to tell you when he is -coming here." - -Mrs. Harbinger stared at the girl with the mien of one who is convinced -that somebody's wits are hopelessly gone, and is uncertain whether they -are those of herself or of her friend. - -"Coming here?" she repeated helplessly. "When?" - -"This afternoon. I am really going to meet him!" May ran on, flashing -instantly from depression into smiles and animation. "Oh, I am so -excited!" - -Mrs. Harbinger seized the girl again by the shoulder, and this time with -an indignation evidently personal as well as moral. - -"Have you dared to ask a strange man to meet you at my house, May -Calthorpe?" - -The other cringed, and writhed her shoulder out of the clutch of her -hostess. - -"Of course not," she responded, taking in her turn with instant -readiness the tone of just resentment. "He wrote me that he would be -here." - -The other regarded May in silence a moment, apparently studying her in -the light of these new revelations of character. Then she turned and -walked thoughtfully to a chair, leaving May to sit down again on the -sofa by which they had been standing. Mrs. Harbinger was evidently going -over in her mind the list of possible authors who might be at her -afternoon tea that day. - -"Then 'Love in a Cloud' was written by some one we know," she observed -reflectively. "When did you write to him last?" - -"When I was here yesterday, waiting for you to go to the matinee." - -"Do you expect to recognize this unknown paragon?" asked Mrs. Harbinger -with an air perhaps a thought too dispassionate. - -A charming blush came over May's face, but she answered with perfect -readiness:-- - -"He asked me to give him a sign." - -"What kind of a sign?" - -"He said he would wear any flower I named if I would--" - -"Would wear one, too, you minx! That's why you have a red carnation at -your throat, is it? Oh, you ought to be shut up on bread and water for a -month!" - -May showed signs of relapsing again into tears. - -"I declare, I think you are just as horrid as you can be," she -protested. "I wish I hadn't told you a word. I'm sure there was no need -that I should. I--" - -The lordly form of Graham the butler appeared at the drawing-room door. - -"Mrs. Croydon," he announced. - - - - -II - -THE MADNESS OF A MAN - - -While Mrs. Harbinger was receiving from May Calthorpe the disjointed -confession of that young woman's rashness, her husband, Tom Harbinger, -was having a rather confused interview with a client in his down-town -office. The client was a middle-aged man, with bushy, sandy hair, and an -expression of invincible simplicity not unmixed with obstinacy. Tom was -evidently puzzled how to take his client or what to do with him. He had, -as they talked, the air of being uncertain whether Mr. Barnstable was in -earnest, and of not knowing how far to treat him seriously. - -"But why do you come to me?" he asked at length, looking at his client -as one regards a prize rebus. "Of course 'Love in a Cloud,' like any -other book, has a publisher. Why don't you go there to find out who -wrote it?" - -The other shook his head wearily. He was a chunky man, seeming to be -made largely of oleaginous material, and appearing to be always -over-worn with the effort of doing anything with muscles and -determination hopelessly flabby despite his continual persistence. - -"I've been to them," he returned; "but they won't tell." - -"Then why not let the matter pass? It seems to me--" - -The other set his square jaw the more firmly amid its abundant folds of -flabby flesh. - -"Let it pass?" he interrupted with heavy excitement. "If something isn't -done to stop the infernal impudence of these literary scribblers there -will be no peace in life. There is nothing sacred! They ought to be -punished, and I'll follow this rascal if it costs me every dollar I'm -worth. I came to you because I thought you'd sympathize with me." - -Mr. Harbinger moved uneasily in his chair like a worm on a hook. - -"Why, really, Barnstable," he said, "I feel as you do about the -impudence of writers nowadays, and I'd like to help you if I could; -but--" - -The other broke in with a solemn doggedness which might well discourage -any hope of his being turned from his purpose by argument. - -"I mean to bring suit for libel, and that's the whole of it." - -"Perhaps then," the lawyer responded with ill concealed irritation, "you -will be good enough to tell me whom the suit is to be against." - -"Who should it be against? The author of 'Love in a Cloud,' of course." - -"But we don't know who the author of that cursed book is." - -"I know we don't know; but, damme, we must find out. Get detectives; -use decoy advertisements; do anything you like. I'll pay for it." - -Mr. Harbinger shrugged his shoulders, and regarded his client with an -expression of entire hopelessness. - -"But I'm not in the detective business." - -The other gave no evidence of being in the least affected by the -statement. - -"Of course a lawyer expects to find out whatever is necessary in -conducting his clients' business," he remarked, with the air of having -disposed of that point. "There must be a hundred ways of finding out who -wrote the book. An author ought not to be harder to catch than a -horse-thief, and they get those every day. When you've caught him, you -just have him punished to the extent of the law." - -Harbinger rose from his chair and began to walk up and down with his -hands in his pockets. The other watched him in silence, and for some -moments nothing was said. At length the lawyer stopped before his -client, and evidently collected himself for a final effort. - -"But consider," he said, "what your case is." - -"My case is a good case if there is any justice in the country. The man -that wrote that book has insulted my wife. He has told her story in his -confounded novel, and everybody is laughing over her divorce. It is -infamous, Harbinger, infamous!" - -He so glowed and smouldered with inner wrath that the folds of his fat -neck seemed to soften and to be in danger of melting together. His -little eyes glowed, and his bushy hair bristled with indignation. He -doubled his fist, and shook it at Harbinger as if he saw before him the -novelist who had intruded upon his private affairs, and he meant to -settle scores with him on the spot. - -"But nobody knew that you had a wife," Harbinger said. "You came here -from Chicago without one, and we all thought that you were a bachelor." - -"I haven't a wife; that's just the trouble. She left me four years ago; -but I don't see that that makes any difference. I'm fond of her just the -same; and I won't have her put into an anonymous book." - -Harbinger sat down again, and drew his chair closer to that in which the -other seethed, molten with impotent wrath. - -"Just because there's a divorced woman in 'Love in a Cloud,'" he said, -"you propose to bring a suit for libel against the author. If you will -pardon me, it strikes me as uncommon nonsense." - -Barnstable boiled up as a caldron of mush breaks into thick, spluttering -bubbles. - -"Oh, it strikes you as uncommon nonsense, does it? Damme, if it was your -wife you'd look at it differently. Isn't it your business to do what -your clients want done?" - -"Oh, yes; but it's also my business to tell them when what they want is -folly." - -"Then it's folly for a man to resent an insult to his wife, is it? The -divorce court didn't make a Pawnee Indian of me. My temper may be -incompatible, but, damme, Harbinger, I'm human." - -Harbinger began a laugh, but choked the bright little bantling as soon -as it saw the light. He leaned forward, and laid his hand on the other's -knee. - -"I understand your feelings, Barnstable," he said, "and I honor you for -them; but do consider a little. In the first place, there is no -probability that you could make a jury believe that the novelist meant -you and your wife at all. Think how many divorce suits there are, and -how well that story would fit half of them. What you would do would -be to drag to light all the old story, and give your wife the -unpleasantness of having everything talked over again. You would injure -yourself, and you could hardly fail to give very serious pain to her." - -Barnstable stared at him with eyes which were full of confusion and of -helplessness. - -"I don't want to hurt her," he stammered. - -"What do you want to do?" - -The client cast down his eyes, and into his sallow cheeks came a dull -flush. - -"I wanted to protect her," he answered slowly; "and I wanted--I wanted -to prove to her that--that I'd do what I could for her, if we were -divorced." - -The face of the other man softened; he took the limp hand of his -companion and shook it warmly. - -"There are better ways of doing it than dragging her name before the -court," he said. "I tell you fairly that the suit you propose would be -ridiculous. It would make you both a laughing-stock, and in the end come -to nothing." - -The square jaw was still firmly set, but the small eyes were more -wistful than ever. - -"But I must do something," Barnstable said. "I can't stand it not to do -anything." - -Harbinger rose with the air of a man who considers the interview ended. - -"There is nothing that you can do now," he replied. "Just be quiet, and -wait. Things will come round all right if you have patience; but don't -be foolish. A lawyer learns pretty early in his professional life that -there are a good many things that must be left to right themselves." - -Barnstable rose in turn. He seemed to be trying hard to adjust his mind -to a new view of the situation, but it was evident enough that his brain -was not of the sort to yield readily to fresh ideas of any kind. He -examined his hat carefully, passing his thumb and forefinger round the -rim as if to assure himself that it was all there; then he cleared his -throat, and regarded the lawyer wistfully. - -"But I must do something," he repeated, with an air half apologetic. "I -can't just let the thing go, can I?" - -"You can't do anything but let it go," was the answer. "Some time you -will be glad that you did let it be. Take my word for it." - -Barnstable shook his head mournfully. - -"Then you take away my chance," he began, "of doing something--" - -He paused in evident confusion. - -"Of doing something?" repeated Harbinger. - -"Why, something, you know, to please--" - -"Oh, to please your wife? Well, just wait. Something will turn up sooner -or later. Speaking of wives, I promised Mrs. Harbinger to come home to a -tea or some sort of a powwow. What time is it?" - -"Yes, a small tea," Barnstable repeated with a queer look. "Pardon me, -but is it too intrusive in me to ask if I may go home with you?" - -Harbinger regarded him in undisguised amazement; and quivers of -embarrassment spread over Barnstable's wavelike folds of throat and -chin. - -"Of course it seems to you very strange," the client went on huskily; -"and I suppose it is etiquettsionally all wrong. Do you think your wife -would mind much?" - -"Mrs. Harbinger," the lawyer responded, his voice much cooler than -before, "will not object to anybody I bring home." - -The acquaintance of the two men was no more than that which comes from -casual meetings at the same club. The club was, however, a good one, and -membership was at least a guarantee of a man's respectability. - -"I happen to know," Barnstable proceeded, getting so embarrassed that -there was reason to fear that in another moment his tongue would cleave -to the roof of his mouth and his husky voice become extinct altogether, -"that a person that I want very much to see will be there; and I will -take it as very kind--if you think it don't matter,--that is, if your -wife--" - -"Oh, Mrs. Harbinger won't mind. Come along. Wait till I get my hat and -my bag. A lawyer's green bag is in Boston as much a part of his dress as -his coat is." - -The lawyer stuffed some papers into his green bag, rolled down the top -of his desk, and took up his hat. The visitor had in the meantime been -picking from his coat imaginary specks of lint and smoothing his -unsmoothable hair. - -"I hope I look all right," Barnstable said nervously. "I--I dressed -before I came here. I thought perhaps you would be willing--" - -"Oh, ho," interrupted Harbinger. "Then this whole thing is a ruse, is -it? You never really meant to bring a suit for libel?" - -The face of the other hardened again. - -"Yes, I did," was his answer; "and I'm by no means sure that I've given -it up yet." - - - - -III - -THE BABBLE OF A TEA - - -The entrance of Mrs. Croydon into Mrs. Harbinger's drawing-room was -accompanied by a rustling of stuffs, a fluttering of ribbons, and a -nodding of plumes most wonderful to ear and eye. The lady was of a -complexion so striking that the redness of her cheeks first impressed -the beholder, even amid all the surrounding luxuriance of her toilet. -Her eyes were large and round, and of a very light blue, offering to -friend or foe the opportunity of comparing them to turquoise or blue -china, and so prominent as to exercise on the sensitive stranger the -fascination of a deformity from which it seems impossible to keep the -glance. Mrs. Croydon was rather short, rather broad, extremely -consequential, and evidently making always a supreme effort not to be -overpowered by her overwhelming clothes. She came in now like a yacht -decorated for a naval parade, and moving before a slow breeze. - -Mrs. Harbinger advanced a step to meet her guest, greeting the new-comer -in words somewhat warmer than the tone in which they were spoken. - -"How do you do, Mrs. Croydon. Delighted to see you." - -"How d' y' do?" responded the flutterer, an arch air of youthfulness -struggling vainly with the unwilling confession of her face that she was -no longer on the sunny side of forty. "How d' y' do, Miss Calthorpe? -Delighted to find you here. You can tell me all about your cousin -Alice's engagement." - -Miss Calthorpe regarded the new-comer with a look certainly devoid of -enthusiasm, and replied in a tone not without a suggestion of -frostiness:-- - -"On the contrary I did not know that she was engaged." - -"Oh, she is; to Count Shimbowski." - -"Count Shimbowski and Alice Endicott?" put in Mrs. Harbinger. "Is that -the latest? Sit down, Mrs. Croydon. Really, it doesn't seem to me that -it is likely that such a thing could be true, and the relatives not be -notified." - -She reseated herself as she spoke, and busied herself with the -tea-equipage. May rather threw herself down than resumed her seat. - -"Certainly it can't be true," the latter protested. "The idea of Alice's -being engaged and we not know it!" - -"But it's true; I have it direct," insisted Mrs. Croydon; "Miss -Wentstile told Mr. Bradish, and he told me." - -May sniffed rather inelegantly. - -"Oh, Miss Wentstile! She thinks because Alice is her niece she can do -what she likes with her. It's all nonsense. Alice has always been fond -of Jack Neligage. Everybody knows that." - -Mrs. Croydon managed somehow to communicate to her innumerable streamers -and pennants a flutter which seemed to be meant to indicate violent -inward laughter. - -"Oh, what a child you are, Miss Calthorpe! I declare, I really must put -you into my next novel. I really must!" - -"May is still so young as to be romantic, of course," Mrs. Harbinger -remarked, flashing at her young friend a quick sidewise glance. "Besides -which she has been educated in a convent; and in a convent a girl must -be either imaginative or a fool, or she'll die of ennui." - -"I suppose you never were romantic yourself," put in May defensively. - -"Oh, yes, my dear; I had my time of being a fool. Why, once I even fell -violently in love with a man I had never seen." - -The swift rush of color into the face of Miss Calthorpe might have -arrested the attention of Mrs. Croydon, but at that moment the voice of -Graham interrupted, announcing:-- - -"Mr. Bradish; Mr. Neligage." - -The two men who entered were widely different in appearance. - -That Mr. Bradish was considerably the elder was evident from his -appearance, yet he came forward with an eager air which secured for him -the first attention. He was lantern-jawed, and sanguine in color. -Near-sight glasses unhappily gave to his eyes an appearance of having -been boiled, and distorted his glance into an absurd likeness to a -leer. A shadow of melancholy, vague yet palpable, softened his face, and -was increased by the droop of his Don Quixote like yellow mustaches. The -bald spot on his head and the stoop in his shoulders betrayed cruelly -the fact that Harry Bradish was no longer young; and no less plainly -upon everything about him was stamped the mark of a gentleman. - -Jack Neligage, on the other hand, came in with a face of irresistible -good nature. There was a twinkle in his brown eyes, a spark of humor and -kindliness which could evidently not be quenched even should there -descend upon him serious misfortune. His face was still young enough -hardly to show the marks of dissipation which yet were not entirely -invisible to the searching eye; his hair was crisp and abundant; his -features regular and well formed. He was a young fellow so evidently -intended by nature for pleasure that to expect him to take life -seriously would have seemed a sort of impropriety. An air of youth, and -of jocund life, of zest and of mirthfulness came in with Jack, -inevitably calling up smiles to meet him. Even disapproval smiled on -Jack; and it was therefore not surprising if he evaded most of the -reproofs which are apt to be the portion of an idle pleasure-seeker. He -moved with a certain languid alertness that was never hurried and yet -never too late. This served him well on the polo-field, where he was -deliberately swift and swiftly deliberate in most effective fashion. He -came into the drawing-room now with the easy mien of a favorite, yet -with an indifference which seemed so natural as to save him from all -appearance of conceit. He had the demeanor of the conscious but not -quite spoiled darling of fortune. - -"You are just in time for the first brewing of tea," Mrs. Harbinger -said, when greetings had been exchanged. "This tea was sent me by a -Russian countess who charged me to let nobody drink it who takes cream. -It is really very good if you get it fresh." - -"To have the tea and the hostess both fresh," Mr. Bradish responded, -"will, I fear, be too intoxicating." - -"Never mind the tea," broke in Mrs. Croydon. "I am much more interested -in what we were talking about. Mr. Bradish, you can tell us about Count -Shimbowski and Alice Endicott." - -Jack Neligage turned about with a quickness unusual in him. - -"The Count and Miss Endicott?" he demanded. "What about them? Who's had -the impertinence to couple their names?" - -Mrs. Croydon put up her hands in pretended terror, a hundred tags of -ribbon fluttering as she did so. - -"Oh, don't blame me," she said. "I didn't do it. They're engaged." - -Neligage regarded her with a glance of vexed and startled disfavor. Then -he gave a short, scornful laugh. - -"What nonsense!" he said. "Nobody could believe that." - -"But it's true," put in Bradish. "Miss Wentstile herself told me that -she had arranged the match, and that I might mention it." - -Neligage looked at the speaker an instant with a disbelieving smile on -his lip; and tossing his head went to lean his elbow on the mantel. - -"Arranged!" he echoed. "Good heavens! Is this a transaction in real -estate?" - -"Marriage so often is, Mr. Neligage," observed Mrs. Harbinger, with a -smile. - -Bradish began to explain with the solemn air which he had. He was often -as obtuse and matter-of-fact as an Englishman, and now took up the -establishment of the truth of his news with as much gravity as if he -were setting forth a point of moral doctrine. He seemed eager to prove -that he had at least been entirely innocent of any deception, and that -whatever he had said must be blamelessly credible. - -"Of course it's extraordinary, and I said so to Miss Wentstile. She said -that as the Count is a foreigner, it was very natural for him to follow -foreign fashions in arranging the marriage with her instead of with -Alice." - -"And she added, I've no doubt," interpolated Mrs. Harbinger, "that she -entirely approved of the foreign fashion." - -"She did say something of that sort," admitted Bradish, with entire -gravity. - -Mrs. Harbinger burst into a laugh, and trimmed the wick of her tea-lamp. -Neligage grinned, but his pleasant face darkened instantly. - -"Miss Wentstile is an old idiot!" said he emphatically. - -"Oh, come, Mr. Neligage," remonstrated his hostess, "that is too strong -language. We must observe the proprieties of abuse." - -"And say simply that she is Miss Wentstile," suggested Mrs. Croydon -sweetly. - -The company smiled, with the exception of May, whose face had been -growing longer and longer. - -"I don't care what she says," the girl burst out indignantly; "I don't -believe Alice will listen to such a thing for one minute." - -"Perhaps she won't," Bradish rejoined doubtfully, "but Miss Wentstile is -famous for having her own way. I'm sure I shouldn't feel safe if she -undertook to marry me off." - -"She might take you for herself if she knew her power, Mr. Bradish," -responded Mrs. Croydon. "No more tea, my dear, thank you." - -"For Heaven's sake don't mention it then," he answered. "It's enough to -have Jack here upset. The news is evidently too much for him." - -"What news has upset my son, Mr. Bradish?" demanded a crisp voice from -the doorway. "I shall disown him if he can't hide his feelings." - -Past Graham, who was prepared to announce her, came a little woman, -bright, vivacious, sparkling; with clear complexion and mischievous -dimples. A woman trimly dressed, and in appearance hardly older than the -son she lightly talked of disowning. The youthfulness of Mrs. Neligage -was a constant source of irritation to her enemies, and with her -tripping tongue and defiant independence she made enemies in plenty. Her -gypsyish beauty and clear skin were offenses serious enough; but for a -woman with a son of five and twenty to look no more than that age -herself was a vexation which was not to be forgiven. Some had been -spiteful enough to declare that she preserved her youth by being -entirely free from feeling; but since in the same breath they were ready -to charge the charming widow with having been by her emotions carried -into all sorts of improprieties, the accusation was certainly to be -received with some reservations. Certainly she was the fortunate -possessor of unfailing spirits, of constant cleverness, and delightful -originality. She had the courage, moreover, of daring to do what she -wished with the smallest possible regard for conventions; and it has -never been clearly shown how much independence of conventionality and -freedom of life may effect toward the preservation of a woman's youth. - -She evidently understood the art of entering a room well. She came -forward swiftly, yet without ungraceful hurry. She nodded brightly to -the ladies, gave Bradish the momentary pleasure of brushing her -finger-tips with his own as she passed him, then went forward to shake -hands with Mrs. Harbinger. Without having done anything in particular -she was evidently entire mistress of the situation, and the rest of the -company became instantly her subordinates. Mrs. Croydon, almost twice -her size and so elaborately overdressed, appeared suddenly to have -become dowdy and ill at ease; yet nothing could have been more -unconscious or friendly than the air with which the new-comer turned -from the hostess to greet the other lady. There are women to whom -superiority so evidently belongs by nature that they are not even at the -trouble of asserting it. - -"Oh, Mrs. Neligage," Mrs. Croydon said, as she grasped at the little -glove which glanced over hers as a bird dips above the water, "you have -lived so much abroad that you should be an authority on foreign -marriages." - -"Just as you, having lived in Chicago, should be an authority on -un-marriages, I suppose. Well, I've had the fun of disturbing a lot of -foreign marriages in my day. What marriage is this?" - -"We were speaking of Miss Wentstile's proposing to marry Alice to Count -Shimbowski," explained Mrs. Harbinger. - -"Then," returned Mrs. Neligage lightly, "you had better speak of -something else as quickly as possible, for Alice and her aunt are just -behind me. Let us talk of Mrs. Croydon's anonymous novel that's made -such a stir while I've been in Washington. What is it? 'Cloudy Love'! -That sounds tremendously improper. My dear, if you don't wish to see me -fall in a dead faint at your feet, do give me some tea. I'm positively -worn out." - -She seated herself near Mrs. Croydon, over whose face during her remarks -had flitted several expressions, none of them over-amiable, and watched -the hostess fill her cup. - -"Come, Mrs. Neligage," protested Bradish with an air of mild -solicitation. "You are really too bad, you know. It isn't 'Cloudy Love,' -but 'Love in a Cloud.' I didn't know that you confessed to writing it, -Mrs. Croydon." - -"Oh, I don't. I only refuse to deny it." - -"Oh, well, now; not to deny is equivalent to a confession," he returned. - -"Not in the least," Mrs. Neligage struck in. "When you are dealing with -a woman, Mr. Bradish, it isn't safe even to take things by contraries." - - - - -IV - -THE TICKLING OF AN AUTHOR - - -The entrance of Miss Wentstile and her niece Alice Endicott made the -company so numerous that it naturally broke up into groups, and the -general conversation was suspended. - -Miss Wentstile was a lady of commanding presence, whose youth was with -the snows of yester year. She had the eye of a hawk and the jaw of a -bulldog; nor was the effect of these rather formidable features softened -by the strong aquiline nose. Her hair was touched with gray, but her -color was still fresh and too clear not to be natural. She was richly -dressed in dark green and fur, her complexion making the color possible -in spite of her years. She was a woman to arouse attention, and one, -too, who was evidently accustomed to dominate. She cast a keen glance -about her as she crossed the room to her hostess, sweeping her niece -along with her not without a suggestion that she dragged the girl as a -captive at her chariot-wheel. - -Jack Neligage stepped forward as she passed him, evidently with the -intention of intercepting the pair, or perhaps of gaining a word with -Alice Endicott. - -"How do you do, Miss Wentstile," he said. "I am happy to see you looking -so well." - -"There is no reason why I should not look well, Mr. Neligage," she -responded severely. "I never sit up all night to smoke and drink and -play cards." - -Neligage smiled his brightest, and made her a bow of mock deference. - -"Indeed, Miss Wentstile," he responded, "I am delighted to know that -your habits have become so correct." - -She retorted with a contemptuous sniff, and by so effectually -interposing between him and her niece that Miss Endicott could only nod -to him over her aunt's shoulder. Jack made a grimace more impertinent -than courtly, and for the time turned away, while the two ladies went on -to Mrs. Harbinger. - -"Well, Alice," Mrs. Harbinger said, "I am glad you have come at last. I -began to think that I must appoint a substitute to pour in your place." - -"I am sorry to be so late," Miss Endicott responded, as she and her -hostess exchanged places. "I was detained unexpectedly." - -"I kept her," Miss Wentstile announced with grim suddenness. "I have -been talking to her about--" - -"Aunt Sarah," interposed Alice hurriedly, "may I give you some tea?" - -"Don't interrupt me, Alice. I was talking to her about--" - -Mrs. Harbinger looked at the crimsoning cheeks of Alice, and meeting -the girl's imploring glance, gave her a slight but reassuring nod. - -"My dear Miss Wentstile," she said, "I know you will excuse me; but here -are more people coming." - -Miss Wentstile could hardly finish her remarks to the air, and as Mrs. -Harbinger left her to greet a new arrival the spinster turned sharply to -May Calthorpe, who had snuggled up to Alice in true school-girl fashion. - -"Ah, May," Miss Wentstile observed, "what do you settle down there for? -Don't you know that now you have been brought out in society you are -expected to make your market?" - -"No, Miss Wentstile," May responded; "if my market can't make itself, -then it may go unmade." - -The elder turned away with another characteristic sniff, and Alice and -May were left to themselves. People were never tired of condemning Miss -Wentstile for her brusque and naked remarks; but after all society is -always secretly grateful for any mortal who has the courage to be -individual. The lady was often frank to the verge of rudeness; she was -so accustomed to having her own way that one felt sure she would insist -upon it at the very Judgment Seat; she said what she pleased, and -exacted a deference to her opinions and to her wishes such as could -hardly under existing human conditions be accorded to any mortal. Miss -Wentstile must have been too shrewd not to estimate reasonably well the -effect of her peculiarities, and no human being can be persistently -eccentric without being theatrical. It was evident enough that she -played in some degree to the gallery; and undoubtedly from this it is to -be argued that she was not without some petty enjoyment in the notoriety -which her manners produced. Should mankind be destroyed, the last thing -to disappear would probably be human vanity, which, like the grin of the -Cheshire cat in "Alice," would linger after the race was gone. Vanity in -the individual is nourished by the notice of others; and if Miss -Wentstile became more and more confirmed in her impertinences, it is -hardly to be doubted that increase of vanity was the cause most active. -She outwardly resented the implication that she was eccentric; but as -she contrived continually and even complacently to become steadily more -so, society might be excused for not thinking her resentment -particularly deep. Dislike for notoriety perhaps never cured any woman -of a fault; and certainly in the case of Miss Wentstile it was not in -the least corrective. - -The relations between Miss Wentstile and Alice Endicott were well known. -Alice was the doubly orphaned daughter of a gallant young officer killed -in a plucky skirmish against superior force in the Indian troubles, and -of the wife whose heart broke at his loss. At six Alice was left, except -for a small pension, practically penniless, and with no nearer relative -than Miss Wentstile. That lady had undertaken the support of the child, -but had kept her much at school until the girl was sixteen. Then the -niece became an inmate of her aunt's house, and outwardly, at least, -the mere slave of the older lady's caprices. Miss Wentstile was kind in -her fashion. In all that money bought she was generous. Alice was richly -dressed, she might have what masters she wished, be surrounded by -whatever luxuries she chose. As if the return for these benefits was to -be implicit obedience, Miss Wentstile was impatient of any show toward -herself of independence. If Alice could be imagined as bearing herself -coldly and haughtily toward the world in general,--a possibility hardly -to be conceived of,--Miss Wentstile might be pictured glorying in such a -display of proper spirit; but toward her aunt the girl was expected to -be all humility and concession. As neither was without the pride which -belonged to the Wentstile blood, it is easy to see that perfect harmony -was not to be looked for between the pair. Alice had all the folly of -girlhood, which is so quick to refuse to be bullied into affection; -which is so blind as not to perceive that an elder who insists upon its -having no will of its own is providing excellent lessons in the high -graces of humility and meekness. Clever observers--and society remains -vital chiefly in virtue of its clever observers--detected that Miss -Wentstile chafed with an inward consciousness that the deference of her -niece was accorded as a courtesy and not as a right. The spinster had -not the tact to avoid betraying her perception that the submission of -Alice was rather outward than inward, and the public sense of justice -was somewhat appeased in its resentment at her domineering treatment by -its enjoyment of her powerlessness either to break the girl's spirit or -force her into rebellion. - -The fondness of Alice for Jack Neligage was the one tangible thing with -which Miss Wentstile could find fault; and this was so intangible after -all that it was difficult to seize upon it. Nobody doubted that the two -were warmly attached. Jack had never made any effort to hide his -admiration; and while Alice had been more circumspect, the instinct of -society is seldom much at fault in a matter of this sort. For Miss -Wentstile to be sure that her niece favored the man of all others most -completely obnoxious, and to bring the offense home to the culprit were, -however, matters quite different. Now that Miss Wentstile had outdone -herself in eccentricity by boldly adopting the foreign fashion of a -_mariage de convenance_, there was every reason to believe that the real -power of the spinster would be brought to the test. Nobody doubted that -behind this absurd attempt to make a match between Alice and Count -Shimbowski lay the determination to separate the girl from Jack -Neligage; and it was inevitable that the struggle should be watched for -with eager interest. - -The first instant that there was opportunity for a confidential word, -May Calthorpe rushed precipitately upon the subject of the reported -engagement. - -"Oh, Alice," she said, in a hurried half-whisper, "do you know that Miss -Wentstile says she has arranged an engagement between you and that -horrid Hungarian Count." - -Alice turned her long gray eyes quickly to meet those of her companion. - -"Has she really told of it?" she demanded almost fiercely. - -"They were all talking of it before you came in," May responded. - -Her voice was deepened, apparently by a tragic sense of the gravity of -the subject under discussion; yet she was a bud in her first season, so -that it was impossible that there should not also be in her tone some -faint consciousness of the delightfully romantic nature of the -situation. - -An angry flush came into the cheek of Miss Endicott. She was not a girl -of striking face, although she had beautiful eyes; but there was a -dignity in her carriage, an air of birth and breeding, which gave her -distinction anywhere. She possessed, moreover, a sweet sincerity of -character which made itself subtly felt in her every tone and movement. -Now she knit her forehead in evident perplexity and resentment. - -"But did they believe it?" she asked. - -"Oh, they would believe anything of Miss Wentstile, of course," May -replied. "We all know Aunt Sarah too well not to know that she is -capable of the craziest thing that could be thought of." - -She picked out a fat bonbon as she spoke, and nibbled it comfortably, as -if thoroughly enjoying herself. - -"But what can I do?" demanded Alice pathetically. "I can't stand up here -and say: 'Ladies and gentlemen, I really have no idea of marrying that -foreign thing Aunt Sarah wants to buy for me.'" - -Whatever reply May might have made was interrupted by the arrival of a -gentleman with an empty teacup. The new-comer was Richard Fairfield, a -young man of not much money but of many friends, and of literary -aspirations. As he crossed the drawing-room Mrs. Neligage carelessly -held out to him her cup and saucer. - -"As you are going that way, Richard," she said without preface of -salutation, "do you mind taking my cup to the table?" - -"Delighted, of course," he answered, extending his hand for it. - -"If Mrs. Neligage will permit me," broke in Mr. Bradish, darting -forward. "I beg ten thousand pardons for not perceiving--" - -"But Mrs. Neligage will not permit you, Mr. Bradish," she responded -brightly. "I have already commissioned Richard." - -Fairfield received the cup, and bore it away, while Bradish cast upon -the widow a glance of reproach and remonstrance. - -"You women all pet a rising author," he said. "I suppose it's because -you all hope to be put in his books." - -"Oh, no. On the contrary it is because we hope to be left out." - -"I don't see," he went on with little apparent relevancy, "why you need -begrudge me the pleasure of doing you a small favor." - -"I don't wish you to get too much into the habit of doing small favors," -she responded over her shoulder, as she turned back to the group with -which she had been chatting. "I am afraid that if you do, you'll fail -when I ask a great one." - -Fairfield made his way to the table where Alice was dispensing tea. He -was by her welcomed cordially, by May with a reserve which was evidently -absent-minded regret that he should break in upon her confidences with -her cousin. He exchanged with Alice the ordinary greetings, and then -made way for a fresh arrival who wished for tea. May responded rather -indifferently to his remarks as he took a chair at the end of the sofa -upon which she was seated, seeming so absorbed that in a moment he -laughed at some irrelevant reply which she gave. - -"You did not understand what I said," he remarked. "I didn't mean--" - -"I beg your pardon," she interrupted, turning toward him. "I was -thinking of something I was talking about with Alice, and I didn't mind -what you did say." - -"I am sorry that I interrupted." - -"Oh, everybody interrupts at an afternoon tea," she responded, smiling. -"That is what we are here for, I suppose. I was simply in a cloud--" - -Fairfield returned her smile with interest. - -"Is that an allusion?" - -May flushed a little, and put her hand consciously to the carnation at -her throat. - -"Oh, no," she answered, with a little too much eagerness. "I can talk of -something beside that book. Though of course," she added, "I do think -it is a perfectly wonderful story. There is so much heart in it. Why, I -have read it so much that I know parts of it almost word for word." - -"Then you don't think it is cynical?" - -"Oh, not the least in the world! How can anybody say that? I am ashamed -of you, Mr. Fairfield." - -"I didn't mean that I thought it cynical; but lots of folk do, you -know." - -May tossed her hands in a girlish gesture of disdain. - -"I hate people that call everything cynical. It is a thing that they -just say to sound wise. 'Love in a Cloud' is to me one of the truest -books I ever read. Why, you take that scene where she tells him she -cares for him just the same in spite of his disgrace. It brings the -tears into my eyes every time I read it." - -A new light came into the young man's face as she spoke in her -impulsive, girlish fashion. He was a handsome fellow, with well-bred -face. He stroked his silky mustache with an air not unsuggestive of -complacency. - -"It is delightful," said he, "to find somebody who really appreciates -the book for what is best in it. Of course there are a great many people -who say nice things about it, but they don't seem to go to the real -heart of it as you do." - -"Oh, the story has so much heart," she returned. Then she regarded him -quizzically. "You speak almost as if you had written it yourself." - -"Oh, I--That is--Why, you see," he answered, in evident confusion, "I -suppose that my being an embryo literary man myself makes it natural for -me to take the point of view of the author. Most readers of a novel, you -know, care for nothing but the plot, and see nothing else." - -"Oh, it is not the plot," May cried enthusiastically. "I like that, of -course, but what I really care for is the feeling in the book." - -Jack Neligage, with his eyes on Alice Endicott, had made his way over to -the tea-table, and came up in time to hear this. - -"The book, Miss Calthorpe?" he repeated. "Oh, you must be talking of -that everlasting novel. I wish I had had the good luck to write it." - -"Oh, I should adore you if you had, Mr. Neligage." - -"By Jove, then I'll swear I did write it." - -Fairfield regarded the girl with heightened color. - -"You had better be careful, Miss Calthorpe," he commented. "The real -author might hear you." - -She started in pretty dismay, and covered with her hand the flower -nestling under her chin. - -"Oh, he is not here!" she cried. - -"How do you know that?" demanded Jack laughingly. - -She sank back into the corner of the sofa with a blush far deeper than -could be called for by the situation. - -"Oh, I just thought so," she said. "Who is there here that could have -written it?" - -"Why, Dick here is always scribbling," Neligage returned, with a -chuckle. "Perhaps you have been telling him what you thought of his -book." - -The face of Fairfield grew suddenly sober. - -"Come, Jack," he said, rising, "that's too stupid a joke to be worthy of -you." - -He was seized at that moment by Mrs. Harbinger, who presented him to -Miss Wentstile. Fairfield had been presented to Miss Wentstile a dozen -times in the course of the two winters since he had graduated at Harvard -and settled in Boston; but since she never seemed to recognize him, he -gave no sign of remembering her. - -"Miss Wentstile," the hostess said, "don't you know Mr. Fairfield? He is -one of our literary lights now, you know." - -"A very tiny rushlight, I am afraid," the young man commented. - -Miss Wentstile examined him with critical impertinence through her -lorgnette. - -"Are you one of the Baltimore Fairfields?" she asked. - -"No; my family came from Connecticut." - -"Indeed!" she remarked coolly. "I do not remember that I ever met a -person from Connecticut before." - -The lips of the young man set themselves a little more firmly at this -impertinence, and there came into his eyes a keen look. - -"I am pleased to be the humble means of increasing your experience," he -said, with a bow. - -Miss Wentstile had the appearance of being anxious to quarrel with -somebody, a fact which was perhaps due to the conversation which she had -had with her niece as they came to the house. Alice had been ordered to -be especially gracious to Count Shimbowski, and had respectfully but -succinctly declared her intention to be as cold as possible. Miss -Wentstile had all her life indulged in saying whatever she felt like -saying, little influenced by the ordinary restraints of conventionality -and not at all by consideration for the feelings of others. She had gone -about the room that afternoon being as disagreeable as possible, and her -rudeness to Fairfield was milder than certain things which were at that -very moment being resented and quoted in the groups which she had -passed. She glared at the young man now as if amazed that he had dared -to reply, and unfortunately she ventured once more. - -"Thank you," she said. "Even the animals in the Zoo increase one's -experience. It is always interesting to meet those that one has heard -chattered about." - -He made her a deeper bow. - -"I know," he responded with a manner coolly polite. "I felt it myself -the first half dozen times I had the honor to be presented to you; but -even the choicest pleasures grow stale on too frequent repetition." - -Miss Wentstile glared at him for half a minute, while he seemed to grow -pale at his own temerity. Then a humorous smile lightened her face, and -she tapped him approvingly on the shoulder with her gold lorgnette. - -"Come, come," she said briskly but without any sharpness, "you must not -be impertinent to an old woman. You will hold your own, I perceive. Come -and see me. I am always at home on Wednesdays." - -Miss Wentstile moved on looking less grim, but her previous sins were -still to be atoned for, and Mrs. Neligage, who knew nothing of the -encounter between the spinster and Fairfield, was watching her -opportunity. Miss Wentstile came upon the widow just as a burst of -laughter greeted the conclusion of a story. - -"And his wife is entirely in the dark to this day," Mrs. Neligage ended. - -"That is--ha, ha!--the funniest thing I've heard this winter," declared -Mr. Bradish, who was always in the train of Mrs. Neligage. - -"I think it's horrid!" protested Mrs. Croydon, with an entirely -unsuccessful attempt to look shocked. "I declare, Miss Wentstile, they -are gossiping in a way that positively makes me blush." - -"So you see that the age of miracles is not past after all," put in Mrs. -Neligage. - -"Mrs. Neligage has lived abroad so much," Miss Wentstile said severely, -"that I fear she has actually forgotten the language of civility." - -"Not to you, my dear Miss Wentstile," was the incorrigible retort. "My -mother taught me to be civil to you in my earliest youth." - -And all that the unfortunate lady, thus cruelly attacked, could say -was,-- - -"I wish you remembered all your mother taught you half as well!" - - - - -V - -THE BLAZING OF RANK - - -The usual mass of people came and went that afternoon at Mrs. -Harbinger's. It was not an especially large tea, but in a country where -the five o'clock tea is the approved method of paying social grudges -there will always be a goodly number of people to be asked and many who -will respond. The hum of talk rose like the clatter of a factory, the -usual number of conversations were begun only to end as soon as they -were well started; the hostess fulfilled her duty of interrupting any -two of her guests who seemed to be in danger of getting into real talk; -presentations were made with the inevitable result of a perfunctory -exchange of inanities; and in general the occasion was very like the -dozen other similar festivities which were proceeding at the same time -in all the more fashionable parts of the city. - -As time wore on the crowd lessened. Many had gone to do their wearisome -duty of saying nothing at some other five o'clock; and the rooms were -becoming comfortable again. The persons who had come early were -lingering, and one expert in social craft might have detected signs that -their remaining so long was not without some especial reason. - -"If he is coming," Mrs. Neligage observed to Mr. Bradish, "I wish he -would come. It is certainly not very polite of him not to arrive earlier -if he is really trying to pass as the slave of Alice." - -"Oh, he is always late," Bradish answered. "If you had not been in -Washington you would have heard how he kept Miss Wentstile's dinner -waiting an hour the other day because he couldn't make up his mind to -leave the billiard table." - -Mrs. Neligage laughed rather mockingly. - -"How did dear Miss Wentstile like that?" asked she. "It is death for any -mortal to dare to be late at her house, and she does not approve of -billiards." - -"She was so taken up with berating the rest of us for his tardiness that -when he appeared she had apparently forgotten all about his being to -blame in anything." - -"She loves a title as she loves her life," Mrs. Neligage commented. "She -would marry him herself and give him every penny she owns just to be -called a countess for the rest of her life." - -A stir near the door, and the voice of Graham announcing "Count -Shimbowski" made them both turn. A brief look of intelligence flashed -across the face of the widow. - -"It is he," she murmured as if to herself. - -"Do you know him?" demanded Bradish. - -"Oh, I used to see him abroad years ago," was her answer. "Very likely -he will have forgotten me." - -"That," Bradish declared, with a profound bow, "is impossible." - -The Count made his way across the drawing-room with a jaunty air not -entirely in keeping with the crow's-feet at the corners of his eyes. He -was tall and wiry, with sandy hair and big mustaches. He showed no -consciousness that he was being stared at, but with admirable -self-possession saluted his hostess. - -"How do you do, Count?" Mrs. Harbinger greeted him. "We began to think -you were not coming." - -"Ah, how do, Mees Harbeenger. Not to come eet would be to me too -desolate. _Bon jour_, my deear Mees Wentsteele. I am so above-joyed to -encountair you'self here. My deear Mees Endeecott, I kees your -feengair." - -"Beast!" muttered Jack Neligage to Fairfield. "I should like to cram a -fistful of his twisted-up sentences down his snaky throat!" - -"He must open his throat with a corkscrew in the morning," was the -reply. - -Miss Wentstile was smiling her most gracious. - -"How do you feel to-day, Count?" she asked. "Does our spring weather -affect you unpleasantly?" - -The Count made a splendid gesture with both his hands, waving in the -right the monocle which he more often carried than wore. - -"Oh, what ees eet de weder een one land w'ere de peoples so heavenly -keent ees?" he demanded oratorically. "Only eet ees Mees Endeecott do -keel me wid her so great cheelleeness." - -Miss Endicott looked up from her seat at the tea-table beside which the -group stood. Her air was certainly sufficiently cold to excuse the Count -for feeling her chilliness; and she answered without a glimmer of a -smile. - -"I'm not cruel," she said. "I wouldn't hurt a worm." - -"But," the Count responded, shaking his head archly, "eet ees dat I be -not a worm." - -"I thought that all men were worms of the dust," Mrs. Harbinger -observed. - -The Count bowed his tall figure with finished grace. - -"And all de weemens," he declared, "aire angles!" - -"It is our sharpness, then, that is to be admired," Alice commented. - -"Of course, Alice," Miss Wentstile corrected vixenishly, "the Count -means angels." - -"So many men," Alice went on without showing other sign of feeling than -a slight flush, "have turned a woman from an angel into an angle." - -"I do comprehend not," the Count said. - -"It is no matter, Count," put in the hostess. "She is only teasing you, -and being rude into the bargain. You will take tea? Alice, pour the -Count some tea." - -Alice took up a cup. - -"How many lumps?" she asked. - -"Loomps? Loomps? Oh, eet weel be sugaire een de tea. Tree, eef you weel -be so goot weedeen eet." - -Just as the Count, with profuse expressions of overwhelming gratitude -to have been permitted so great an honor, had received his tea from the -hand of Miss Endicott, and Miss Wentstile was clearing her throat with -the evident intention of directing toward him some profound observation, -Mrs. Neligage came briskly forward with outstretched hand. - -"It would be generous of you, Count," she said, "to recognize an old -friend." - -He stared at her with evident astonishment. - -"_Ciel!_" he exclaimed. "Ah, but eet weel be de _belle_ Madame -Neleegaze!" - -She laughed as she shook hands, her dark eyes sparkling with fun. - -"As gallant as ever, Count. It is good of you to remember me after so -many years." - -The Count regarded her with a look so earnest that he might easily be -supposed to remember from the past, whatever and whenever it had been, -many things of interest. Miss Wentstile surveyed the pair with an -expression of keen suspicion. - -"Louisa," she demanded, "where did you know the Count?" - -The Count tried to speak, but Mrs. Neligage was too quick for him. - -"It was at--Where was it, Count? My memory for places is so bad," she -returned mischievously. - -"Yees," he said eagerly. "Eet weel have been Paris _certainement_, ees -eet not?" - -She laughed more teasingly yet, and glanced swiftly from him to Miss -Wentstile. She was evidently amusing herself, though the simple -question of the place of a former meeting might not seem to give much -opportunity. - -"That doesn't seem to me to have been the place," she remarked. "Paris? -Let me see. I should have said that it was--" - -The remark was not concluded, for down went the Count's teacup with a -splash and a crash, with startings and cries from the ladies, and a -hasty drawing away of gowns. Miss Endicott, who had listened carefully -to the talk, took the catastrophe coolly enough, but with a darkening of -the face which seemed to show that she regarded the accident as -intentional. The Count whipped out his handkerchief, and went down on -his knee instantly to wipe the hem of Miss Wentstile's spattered frock; -while Mrs. Neligage seemed more amused than ever. - -"Oh, I am deesconsolate forever!" the Count exclaimed, in tones which -were pathetic enough to have made the reputation of an actor. "I am -broken een de heart, Mees Wentsteele." - -"It is no matter," Miss Wentstile said stiffly. - -A ring of the bell brought Graham to repair the damage as far as might -be, and in the confusion the Count moved aside with the widow. - -"That was not done with your usual skill, Count," she said mockingly. -"It was much too violent for the occasion." - -"But for what you speak of Monaco here?" he demanded fiercely. "De old -Mees Wentsteele say dat to play de card for money ees villain. She say -eet is murderous. She say she weel not to endure de man dat have -gamboled." - -"And you have gamboled in a lively manner in your time, Count. It's an -old pun, but it would be new to you if you could understand it." - -"I don't understand," he said savagely in French. - -"No matter. It wasn't worth understanding," she answered, in the same -tongue. "But you needn't have been afraid. I'm no spoil-sport. I -shouldn't have told." - -"She is an old prude," he went on, smiling, and showing his white teeth. -"If she knew I had been in a duel, she would know me no more." - -"She will not know from me." - -"As lovely and as kind as ever," he responded. "Ah, when I remember -those days, when I was young, and you were just as you are now--" - -"Old, that is." - -"Oh, no; young, always young as when I knew you first. When I was at -your feet with love, and your countryman was my rival--" - -Mrs. Neligage began to look as if she found the tables being turned, and -that she had no more wish to have the past brought up than had the -Count. She turned away from her companion. Then she looked back over her -shoulder to observe, still in French, as she left him:-- - -"I make it a point never to remember those days, my friend." - - - - -VI - -THE MISCHIEF OF A WIDOW - - -There were now but ten guests left, the persons who have been named, and -who seemed for the most part to be lingering to observe the Count or -Alice Endicott. May Calthorpe had all the afternoon kept near Alice, and -only left her place when the sopping up of the Count's tea made it -necessary for her to move. Mrs. Harbinger took her by the arm, and -looked into her face scrutinizingly. - -"Well," she asked, "did your unknown author come?" - -"Nobody has come with a carnation. Oh, I am so disappointed!" - -"I am glad of it, my dear." - -"But he said he would come if I'd give him a sign, and I wrote to him -while I was waiting for you yesterday." - -"So you told me." - -"Well," May echoed dolefully; "I think you might be more sympathetic." - -"What did you do with the letter?" asked Mrs. Harbinger. - -"I gave it to Graham to post." - -"Then very likely no harm is done. Graham never in his life posted a -letter under two days." - -"Oh, do you think so?" May asked, brightening visibly at the suggestion. -"You don't think he despised me, and wouldn't come?" - -Mrs. Harbinger gave her a little shake. - -"You hussy!" she exclaimed, with too evident an enjoyment of the -situation to be properly severe. "How was it addressed?" - -"Just to Christopher Calumus, in care of the publishers." - -"Well, my dear," the hostess declared, "your precious epistle is -probably in the butler's pantry now; or one of the maids has picked it -up from the kitchen floor. I warn you that if I can find it I shall read -it." - -"Oh, you wouldn't!" exclaimed May in evident distress. - -"Um! Wouldn't I, though? The way you take the suggestion shows that it's -time somebody looked into your correspondence with this stranger." - -May opened her lips to protest again, but the voice of Graham was heard -announcing Mr. Barnstable, and Mrs. Harbinger turned to greet the -late-coming stranger. The gentleman's hair had apparently been scrubbed -into sleekness, but had here and there broken through the smooth outer -surface as the stuffing of an old cushion breaks through slits in the -covering. His face was red, and his air full of self-consciousness. When -he entered the drawing-room Mr. Harbinger was close behind him, but the -latter stopped to speak with Bradish and Mrs. Neligage, and Barnstable -advanced alone to where Mrs. Harbinger stood with May just behind her. - -"Heavens, May," the hostess said over her shoulder. "Here is your -carnation. I hope you are pleased with the bearer." - -Barnstable stood hesitating, looking around as if to discover the -hostess. On the face of Mrs. Croydon only was there sign of recognition. -She bowed at him rather than to him, with an air so distant that no man -could have spoken to her after such a frigid salutation. The stranger -turned redder and redder, made a half step toward Mrs. Croydon, and then -stopped. Fortunately Mr. Harbinger hastened up, and presented him to the -hostess. That lady greeted him politely, but she had hardly exchanged -the necessary commonplaces, before she put out her hand to where May -stood watching in dazed surprise. - -"Let me present you to Miss Calthorpe," she said. "Mr. Barnstable, May." - -She glided away with a twinkle in her eye which must have implied that -she had no fear in leaving the romantic girl with a lover that looked -like that. May and Barnstable stood confronting each other a moment in -awkward silence, and then the girl tossed her head with the air of a -young colt that catches the bit between his teeth. - -"I had quite given you up," she said in a voice low, but distinct. - -"Eh?" he responded, with a startled look. "Given me up?" - -"I have been watching for the carnation all the afternoon." - -"Carnation?" he echoed, trying over his abundant chins to get a glimpse -of the flower in his buttonhole. "Oh, yes; I generally wear a carnation. -They keep, don't you know; and it was always the favorite flower of my -wife." - -"Your wife?" demanded Miss Calthorpe. - -Her cheeks grew crimson, and she drew herself up haughtily. - -"Yes," Barnstable replied, looking confused. "That is, of course, she -that was my wife." - -"I should never have believed," May observed distantly, "that 'Love in a -Cloud' could have been written by a widower." - -Barnstable began to regard her as if he were in doubt whether she or he -himself had lost all trace of reason. - -"'Love in a Cloud,'" he repeated, "'Love in a Cloud'? Do you know who -wrote that beastly book?" - -Her color shot up, and the angry young goddess declared itself in every -line of her face. Her pose became instantly a protest. - -"How dare you speak of that lovely book in that way?" she demanded. "It -is perfectly exquisite!" - -"But who wrote it?" he demanded in his turn, growing so red as to -suggest awful possibilities of apoplexy. - -"Didn't you?" she stammered. "Are you running it down just for -modesty?" - -"I! I! I write 'Love in a Cloud'?" cried Barnstable, speaking so loud -that he could be heard all over the room. "You insult me, Miss--Miss -Calthump! You--" - -His feelings were evidently too much for him. He turned with rude -abruptness, and looking about him, seemed to become aware that the eyes -of almost everybody in the room were fixed on him. He cast a despairing -glance to where Mrs. Harbinger and Mrs. Croydon were for the moment -standing together, and then started in miserable flight toward the door. -At the threshold he encountered Graham the butler, who presented him -with a handful of letters. - -"Will you please give the letters to Mrs. Harbinger?" Graham said, and -vanished. - -Barnstable looked after the butler, looked at the letters, looked around -as if his head were swimming, and then turned back into the -drawing-room. He walked up to the hostess, and held out the letters in -silence, his fluffy face a pathetic spectacle of embarrassed woe. - -"What are these?" Mrs. Harbinger asked. - -He shook his head, as if he had given up all hope of understanding -anything. - -"The butler put them in my hands," he murmured. - -"Upon my word, Mrs. Harbinger," spoke up Mrs. Croydon, seeming more -offended than there was any apparent reason for her to be, "you have the -most extraordinary butler that ever existed." - -Mrs. Harbinger threw out her hands in a gesture by which she evidently -disclaimed all responsibility for Graham and his doings. - -"Extraordinary! Why, he makes my life a burden. There is no mistake he -cannot make, and he invents fresh ones every day. Really, I know of no -reason why the creature is tolerated in the house except that he makes a -cocktail to suit Tom." - -"Dat ees ver' greet veertue," Count Shimbowski commented genially. - -"I do not agree with you, Count," Miss Wentstile responded stiffly. - -The spinster had been hovering about the Count ever since his accident -with the teacup, apparently seeking an opportunity of snubbing him. - -"Oh, but I die but eef Mees Wentsteele agree of me!" the Count declared -with his hand on his heart. - -Mrs. Croydon in the meanwhile had taken the letters from the hand of -Barnstable, and was looking at them with a scrutiny perhaps closer than -was exactly compatible with strict good-breeding. - -"Why, here is a letter that has never been posted," she said. - -Mr. Harbinger took the whole bundle from her hand. - -"I dare say," was his remark, "that any letter that's been given to -Graham to mail in the last week is there. Why, this letter is addressed -to Christopher Calumus." - -May Calthorpe moved forward so quickly that Mrs. Harbinger, who had -extended her hand to take the letters from her husband, turned to -restrain the girl. Mrs. Croydon swayed forward a little. - -"That is the author of 'Love in a Cloud,'" she said with a simper of -self-consciousness. - -Mrs. Neligage, who was standing with Bradish and Alice at the moment, -made a grimace. - -"She'll really have the impudence to take it," she said to them aside. -"Now see me give that woman a lesson." - -She swept forward in a flash, and deftly took the letter out of Tom -Harbinger's hand before he knew her intention. Flourishing it over her -head, she looked them all over with eyes full of fun and mischief. - -"Honor to whom honor is due," she cried. "Ladies and gentlemen, be it my -high privilege to deliver this to its real and only owner. Count," she -went on, sweeping him a profound courtesy, "let your light shine. Behold -in Count Shimbowski the too, too modest author of 'Love in a Cloud.'" - -There was a general outburst of amazement. The Count looked at the -letter which had been thrust into his hand, and stammered something -unintelligible. - -"_Vraiment_, Madame Neleegaze," he began, "eet ees too mooch of you--" - -"Oh, don't say anything," she interrupted him. "I have no other pleasure -in life than doing mischief." - -Mrs. Croydon looked from the Count to Mrs. Neligage with an expression -of mingled doubt and bewilderment. Her attitude of expecting to be -received as the anonymous author vanished in an instant, and vexation -began to predominate over the other emotions visible in her face. - -"Well," she said spitefully, "it is certainly a day of wonders; but if -the letter belongs to the Count, it would be interesting to know who -writes to him as Christopher Calumus." - -Mrs. Harbinger answered her in a tone so cold that Mrs. Croydon colored -under it. - -"Really, Mrs. Croydon," she said, "the question is a little pointed." - -"Why, it is only a question about a person who doesn't exist. There -isn't any such person as Christopher Calumus. I'm sure I'd like to know -who writes to literary men under their assumed names." - -May was so pale that only the fact that everybody was looking at Mrs. -Harbinger could shield her from discovery. The hostess drew herself up -with a haughty lifting of the head. - -"If it is of so great importance to you," she said, "it is I who wrote -the letter. Who else should write letters in this house?" - -She extended her hand to the Count as she spoke, as if to recover the -harmless-looking little white missive which was causing so much -commotion, but the Count did not offer to return it. Tom Harbinger stood -a second as if amazement had struck him dumb. Then with the air of a -puppet pronouncing words by machinery he ejaculated:-- - -"You wrote to the Count?" - -His wife turned to him with a start, and opened her lips, but before she -could speak a fresh interruption prevented. Barnstable in the few -moments during which he had been in the room had met with so many -strange experiences that he might well be bewildered. He had been -greeted by May as one for whom she was waiting, and then had been hailed -as the author of the book which he hated; the eccentric Graham had made -of him a sort of involuntary penny-post; he had been in the midst of a -group whisking a letter about like folk in the last act of a comedy; and -now here was the announcement that the Count was the anonymous libeler -for whom he had been seeking. He dashed forward, every fold of his chins -quivering, his hair bristling, his little eyes red with excitement. He -shook his fist in the face of the Count in a manner not often seen in a -polite drawing-room. - -"You are a villain," he cried. "You have insulted my wife!" - -Bradish and Mr. Harbinger at once seized him, and between them he was -drawn back gesticulating and struggling. The ladies looked frightened, -but with the exception of Mrs. Croydon they behaved with admirable -propriety. Mrs. Croydon gave a little yapping screech, and fell back in -her chair in hysterics. More complete confusion could hardly have been -imagined, and Mrs. Neligage, who looked on with eyes full of laughter, -had certainly reason to congratulate herself that if she loved making -mischief she had for once at least been most instantly and triumphantly -successful. - - - - -VII - -THE COUNSEL OF A MOTHER - - -If an earthquake shook down the house in which was being held a Boston -function, the persons there assembled would crawl from the ruins in a -manner decorous and dignified, or if too badly injured for this would -compose with decency their mangled limbs and furnish the addresses of -their respective family physicians. The violent and ill-considered farce -which had been played in Mrs. Harbinger's drawing-room might elsewhere -have produced a long-continued disturbance; but here it left no trace -after five minutes. Mr. Barnstable, babbling and protesting like a -lunatic, was promptly hurried into confinement in the library, where Mr. -Harbinger and Bradish stood guard over him as if he were a dangerous -beast; while the other guests made haste to retire. They went, however, -with entire decorum. Mrs. Croydon was, it is true, a disturbing element -in the quickly restored serenity of the party, and was with difficulty -made to assume some semblance of self-control. Graham, being sent to -call a carriage, first caught a forlorn herdic, which was prowling about -like a deserted tomcat, and when the lady would none of this managed to -produce a hack which must have been the most shabby in the entire town. -The Count was taken away by Miss Wentstile, who in the hour of his peril -dropped the stiffness she had assumed at his recognition of Mrs. -Neligage. She dragged Alice along with them, but Alice in turn held on -to May, so that the Count was given no opportunity to press his suit. -They all retired in good order, and however they talked, they at least -behaved beautifully. - -As Neligage took his hat in the hall Fairfield caught him by the arm. - -"Jack," he said under his breath, "do you believe Mrs. Harbinger wrote -me those letters?" - -"Of course not," Jack responded instantly. "Not if they are the sort of -letters you said. Letty Harbinger is as square as a brick." - -"Then why did she say she did?" - -Jack rubbed his chin thoughtfully. - -"The letter was evidently written here," he said. "She must know who did -write it." - -"Ah, I see!" exclaimed the other. "She was shielding somebody." - -Jack regarded him with sudden sternness. - -"There was nobody that it could be except--" - -He broke off abruptly, a black look in his face, and before another word -could be exchanged Mrs. Neligage called him. He went off with his -mother, hastily telling his friend he would see him before bedtime. - -Mrs. Neligage was hardly up to her son's shoulder, but so well preserved -was she that she might easily have been mistaken for a sister not so -much his senior. She was admirably dressed, exquisitely gloved and -booted, to the last fold of her tailor-made frock entirely correct, and -in her manner provokingly and piquantly animated. - -"Who in the world was that horror that made the exhibition of himself?" -she asked. "I never saw anything like that at the Harbingers' before." - -"I know nothing about him except that his name is Barnstable, and that -he came from the West somewhere. He's joined the Calif Club lately. How -he got in I don't understand; but he seems to have loads of money." - -"He is a beast," Mrs. Neligage pronounced by way of dismissing the -subject. "What did Mrs. Harbinger mean by thanking you for arranging -something with the Count? What have you to do with him?" - -"Oh, that is a secret." - -"Then if it is a secret tell it at once." - -"I'll tell you just to disappoint you," Jack returned with a grin. "It -is only about some etchings that the Count brought over. Mrs. Harbinger -has bought a couple as a present for Tom." - -"She had better be careful," Mrs. Neligage observed. "Tom thinks more of -the collection now than he does of anything else in the world. But what -are you mixed up in the Count's transactions for?" - -"She asked me to fix it, and besides the poor devil needed to sell them -to raise the wind. I'm too used to being hard up myself not to feel for -him." - -"But you wrote me that you detested the Count." - -"So I do, but you can't help doing a fellow a good turn, can you, just -because you don't happen to like him?" - -She laughed lightly. - -"You are a model of good nature. I wish you'd show it to May Calthorpe." - -Her son looked down at her with a questioning glance. - -"She is always at liberty to admire my virtues, of course; but she can't -expect me to put myself out to make special exhibitions for her -benefit." - -The faces of both mother and son hardened a little, as if the subject -touched upon was one concerning which they had disagreed before. The -change of expression brought out a subtle likeness which had not before -been visible. Jack Neligage was usually said to resemble his father, who -had died just as the boy was entering his teens, but when he was in a -passion--a thing which happened but seldom--his face oddly took on the -look of his mother. The change, moreover, was not entirely to his -disadvantage, for as a rule Jack showed too plainly the easy-going, -self-indulgent character which had been the misfortune of the late John -Neligage, and which made friends of the family declare with a sigh that -Jack would never amount to anything worth while. - -Mother and son walked on in silence a moment, and then the lady -observed, in a voice as dispassionate as ever:-- - -"She is a silly little thing. I believe even you could wind her round -your finger." - -"I haven't any intention of trying." - -"So you have given me to understand before; but now that I am going away -you might at least let me go with the consolation of knowing you'd -provided for yourself. You must marry somebody with money, and she has -no end of it." - -He braced back his shoulders as if he found it not altogether easy not -to reply impatiently. - -"Where are you going?" he asked. - -"Oh, to Europe. Anywhere out of the arctic zone of the New England -conscience. I've had as long a spell of respectability as I can stand, -my boy." - -Something in her manner evidently irritated him more and more. She spoke -with a little indefinable defiant swagger, as if she intended to anger -him. He looked at her no longer, but fixed his gaze on the distance. - -"When you talk of giving up respectability," he remarked in an aggrieved -tone, "I should think you might consider me." - -Her eyes danced, as if she were delighted to see him becoming angry. - -"Oh, I do, Jack, I assure you; but I really cannot afford to be -respectable any longer. Respectability is the most expensive luxury of -civilization; and how can I keep it up when I'm in debt to everybody -that'll trust me." - -"Then you might economize." - -"Economize! Ye gods! This from you, Jack! Where did you hear the word? -I'm sure you know nothing of the thing." - -He laughed in evident self-despite. - -"We are a nice pair of ruffianly adventurers," he responded; "a regular -pair of genteel paupers. But we've both got to pull up, I tell you." - -"Oh, heavens!" was his mother's reply. "Don't talk to me of pulling up. -What fun do I have as it is but quarreling with Miss Wentstile and -snubbing Harry Bradish? I've got to keep up my authority in our set, or -I should lose even these amusements." - -Jack flashed her a swift, questioning look, and with a new note in his -voice, a note of doubt at once and desperation, blurted out a fresh -question. - -"How about flirting with Sibley Langdon?" - -Mrs. Neligage flushed slightly and for a brief second contracted her -well-arched eyebrows, but in an instant she was herself again. - -"Oh, well," she returned, with a pretty little shrug, "that of course is -a trifle better, but not much. Sibley really cares for himself so -entirely that there's very little to be got out of him." - -"But you know how you make folks talk." - -"Oh, folks always talk. There is always as much gossip about nothing as -about something." - -"But he puts on such a damnable air of proprietorship," Jack burst out, -with much more feeling than he had thus far shown. "I know I shall kick -him some time." - -"That is the sort of thing you had better leave to the Barnstable man," -she responded dryly. "Sibley only has the air of owning everything. -That's just his nature. He's really less fun than good old Harry -Bradish. But such as he is, he is the best I can do. If that stuffy old -invalid wife of his would only die, I think I'd marry him out of hand -for his money." - -Jack threw out his arm with an angry gesture. - -"For Heaven's sake, mother," he said, "what are you after that you are -going on so? You know you drive me wild when you get into this sort of a -talk." - -"Or I might elope with him as it is, you know," she continued in her -most teasing manner; but watching him intently. - -"What in the deuce do you talk to me like that for!" he cried, shaking -himself savagely. "You're my mother!" - -Mrs. Neligage grew suddenly grave. She drew closer to her son, and -slipped her hand through his arm. - -"So much the worse for us both, isn't it, Jack? Come, we may as well -behave like rational beings. Of course I was teasing you; but that isn't -the trouble. It's yourself you are angry with." - -"What have I to be angry with myself about?" - -"You are trying to make up your mind that you're willing to be poor for -the sake of marrying Alice Endicott; but you know you wouldn't be equal -to it. If I thought you would, I'd say go ahead. Do you think you'd be -happy in a South End apartment house with the washing on a line between -the chimneys, and a dry-goods box outside the window for a -refrigerator?" - -Jack mingled a groan and a laugh. - -"You can't pay your debts as it is," she went on remorselessly. "We are -a pair of paupers who have to live as if we were rich. You see what your -father made of it, starting with a fortune. You can't suppose you'd do -much better when you've nothing but debts." - -"I think I'll enlist, or run away to sea," Jack declared, tugging -viciously at his mustache. - -"No, you'll accept your destiny. You'll like it better than you think, -when you're settled down to it. You'll stay here and marry May -Calthorpe." - -"You must think I'm a whelp to marry a girl just for her money." - -"Oh, you must fall in love with her. Any man is a wretch who'd marry a -girl just for her money, but a man's a fool that can't fall in love with -a pretty girl worth half a million." - -Jack dropped his mother's hand from his arm with more emphasis than -politeness, and stopped to face her on the corner of the street. - -"The very Old Boy is in you to-day, mother," he said. "I won't listen to -another word." - -She regarded him with a saucy, laughing face, and put out her hand. - -"Well, good-night then," she said. "Come in and see me as soon as you -can. I have a lot of things to tell you about Washington. By the way, -what do you think of my going there, and setting up as a lobbyist? They -say women make no end of money that way." - -He swung hastily round, and left her without a word. She went on her -way, but her face turned suddenly careworn and haggard as she walked in -the gathering twilight toward the little apartment where she lived in -fashionable poverty. - - - - -VIII - -THE TEST OF LOVE - - -One of the distinctive features of "good society" is that its talk is -chiefly of persons. Less distinguished circles may waste precious time -on the discussion of ideas, but in company really select such -conversation is looked upon as dull and pedantic. One of the first -requisites for entrance into the world of fashion is a thorough -knowledge of the concerns of those who are included in its alluring -round; and not to be informed in this branch of wisdom marks at once the -outsider. It follows that concealment of personal affairs is pretty -nearly impossible. Humanity being frail, it frequently happens that -fashionable folk delude themselves by the fond belief that they have -escaped the universal law of their surroundings; but the minute -familiarity which each might boast of all that relates to his neighbors -should undeceive them. That of which all the world talks is not to be -concealed. - -Everybody in their set knew perfectly well that Jack Neligage had been -in love with Alice Endicott from the days when they had paddled in the -sand on the walks of the Public Garden. The smart nursery maids whose -occupation it was to convey their charges thither and keep them out of -the fountains, between whiles exchanging gossip about the parents of the -babies, had begun the talk. The opinions of fashionable society are -generally first formed by servants, and then served up with a garnish of -fancifully distorted facts for the edification of their mistresses; and -in due time the loves of the Public Garden, reported and decorated by -the nursery maids, serve as topics for afternoon calls. Master Jack was -known to be in love with Miss Alice before either of them could have -written the word, and in this case the passion had been so lasting that -it excited remark not only for itself as an ordinary attachment, but as -an extraordinary case of unusual constancy. - -Society knew, of course, the impossibility of the situation. It was -common knowledge that neither of the lovers had anything to marry on. -Jack's handsome and spendthrift father had effectually dissipated the -property which he inherited, only his timely death preserving to Mrs. -Neligage and her son the small remnant which kept them from actual -destitution. Alice was dependent upon the bounty of her aunt, Miss -Wentstile. Miss Wentstile, it is true, was abundantly able to provide -for Alice, but the old lady seriously disapproved of Jack Neligage, and -of his mother she disapproved more strongly yet. Everybody said--and -despite all the sarcastic observations of that most objectionable class, -the satirists, what everybody says nobody likes to disregard--that if -Jack and Alice were so rash as to marry they would never touch a penny -of the aunt's money. Jack, moreover, was in debt. Nobody blamed him much -for this, because he was a general favorite, and all his acquaintance -recognized how impossible it was for a young man to live within an -income so small as from any rational point of view to be regarded as -much the same thing as no income at all; but of course it was recognized -also that it is not well in the present day to marry nothing upon a -capital of less than nothing. It has been successfully done, it is true; -but it calls for more energy and ingenuity than was possessed by -easy-going Jack Neligage. In view of all these facts, frequently -discussed, society was unanimously agreed that Jack and Alice could -never marry. - -This impossibility excited a faint sort of romantic sympathy for the -young couple. They were invited to the same houses and thrown together, -apparently with the idea that they should play with fire as steadily and -as long as possible. The unphrased feeling probably was that since the -culmination of their hopes in matrimony was out of the question, it was -only common humanity to afford them opportunities for getting from the -ill-starred attachment all the pleasure that was to be had. Society -approves strongly of romance so long as it stops short of disastrous -marriages; and since Jack and Alice were not to be united, to see them -dallying with the temptation of making an imprudent match was a -spectacle at once piquant and diverting. - -On the evening of the day when the news of Alice's pseudo-engagement -had been discussed at Mrs. Harbinger's tea, Jack called on her. She -received him with composure, coming into the room a little pale, -perhaps, but entirely free from self-consciousness. Alice was not -considered handsome by her friends, but no one could fail to recognize -that her face was an unusual one. The Count, in his distorted English, -had declared that Miss Endicott "have een her face one Madonna," and the -description was hardly to be bettered. The serene oval countenance, the -dark, clear skin, the smooth hair of a deep chestnut, the level brows -and long lashes, the high, pure forehead, all belonged to the Madonna -type; although the sparkle of humor which now and then gleamed in the -full, gray eyes imparted a bewitching flavor of humanity. To-night she -was very grave, but she smiled properly, the smile a well-instructed -girl learns as she learns to courtesy. She shook hands in a way perhaps -a little formal, since she was greeting so old an acquaintance. - -"Sit down, please," she said. "It is kind of you to come in. I hardly -had a chance to say a word to you this afternoon." - -Jack did not return her greeting, nor did he accept her invitation to be -seated. He stooped above the low chair into which she sank as she spoke. - -"What is this amazing story that you are engaged to Count Shimbowski?" -he demanded abruptly. - -She looked up to him with a smile which was more conventional than -ever. - -"What right have you to ask me a question like that?" she returned. - -He waved his hand as if to put aside formalities. - -"But is it true?" he insisted. - -"What is it to you, Jack, if it were?" - -She grew visibly paler, and her fingers knit themselves together. He, on -the contrary, flushed and became more commanding in his manner. - -"Do you suppose," he answered, "that I should be willing to see a friend -of mine throw herself away on that old roue? He is old enough to be your -father." - -"But you know," said she, assuming an air of raillery which did not seem -to be entirely genuine, "that the proverb says it's better to be an old -man's darling than a young man's slave." - -Jack flung himself into a chair with an impatient exclamation, and -immediately got up again to walk the floor. - -"I wouldn't have believed it of you, Alice. How can you joke about a -thing like that!" - -"Why, Jack; you've told me a hundred times that the only way to get -through life comfortably is to take everything in jest." - -"Oh, confound what I've told you! That's good enough philosophy for me, -but it's beneath you to talk so." - -"What is sauce for the goose--" - -"Keep still," he interrupted. "If you can't be serious--" - -"You are so fond of being serious," she murmured, interrupting in her -turn. - -"But I am serious now. Haven't we always been good friends enough for me -to speak to you in earnest without your treating me as if I was either -impertinent or a fool?" - -He stopped his restless walk to stand before her again. She was silent a -moment with her glance fixed on the rug. Then she raised her eyes to -his, and her manner became suddenly grave. - -"Yes, Jack," she said, "we have always been friends; but has any man, -simply because he is a friend, a right to ask a girl a question like -that?" - -"You mean--" - -"I mean no more than I say. There are other men with whom I've been -friends all my life. Is there any one of them that you'd think had a -right to come here to-night and question me about my engagement?" - -"I'd break his head if he did!" Jack retorted savagely. - -"Then why shouldn't he--whoever he might be--break yours?" - -He flung himself into his chair again, his sunny face clouded, and his -brows drawn down. He met her glance with a look which seemed to be -trying to fathom the purpose of her mood. - -"Why, hang it," he said; "with me it's different. You know I've always -been more than a common friend." - -"You have been a good friend," she answered with resolute -self-composure; "but only a friend after all." - -"Then you mean that I cannot be more than a friend?" - -She dropped her eyes, a faint flush stealing up into her pale cheeks. - -"You do not wish to be; and therefore you have no right--" - -He sprang up impulsively and seized both her hands in his. - -"Good God, Alice," he exclaimed, "you drive me wild! You know that if I -were not so cursedly poor--" - -She released herself gently, and with perfect calmness. - -"I know," she responded, "that you have weighed me in the balance -against the trouble of earning a living, and you haven't found me worth -the price. In the face of a fact like that what is the use of words?" - -He thrust his empty hands into his pockets, and glowered down on her. - -"You know I love you, Alice. You know I've been in love with you ever -since I began to walk; and you--you--" - -She rose and faced him proudly. - -"Well, say it!" she cried. "Say that I was foolish enough to love you! -That I knew no better than to believe in you, and that I half broke my -heart when you forced me to see that you weren't what I thought. Say it, -if you like. You can't make me more ashamed of it than I am already!" - -"Ashamed--Alice?" - -"Yes, ashamed! It humiliates me that I should set my heart on a man that -cared so little for me that he set me below his polo-ponies, his -bachelor ease, his miserable little self-indulgences! Oh, Jack," she -went on, her manner suddenly changing to one of appeal, and the tears -starting into her eyes, "why can't you be a man?" - -She put her hand on his arm, and he covered it affectionately with one -of his while she hurried on. - -"Do break away from the life you are living, and do something worthy of -you. You are good to everybody else; there's nothing you won't do for -others; do this for yourself. Do it for me. You are throwing yourself -away, and I have to hear them talk of your debts, and your racing and -gambling, and how reckless you are! It almost kills me!" - -The full sunniness of his smile came back as he looked down into her -earnest face, caressing her hand. - -"Dear little woman," he said; "are you sure you have got entirely over -being fond of me?" - -"I couldn't get over being fond of you. You know it. That's what makes -it hurt so." - -He raised her hand tenderly, and kissed it. Then he dropped it abruptly, -and turned away. - -"You must get over it," he said, so brusquely that she started almost as -if from a blow. - -She sank back into her seat, and pressed her handkerchief to her eyes, -while he walked back to his chair and sat down with an air of bravado. - -"It's no use, Alice," he said, "I'm not worth a thought, and it isn't in -me to--Well, the fact is that I know myself too well. I know that if I -promised you to-night that to-morrow I'd begin better fashions, I'm not -man enough to live up to it. I couldn't involve you in--Oh, don't, -don't!" - -He broke off to turn to toy with some of the ornaments on the table. In -a moment Alice had suppressed her sobs, and he spoke again, but without -meeting her look. His voice was hard and flippant. - -"You see I have such a good time that I wouldn't give it up for the -world. I think I'd better keep on as I'm going. The time makes us, and -we have to abide by the fashion of the time." - -"If that is the way you feel," she said coldly, "it is I who have -presumed on old friendship." - -He shrugged his shoulders, and laughed harshly. - -"We have both been a little unnecessarily tragic, it seems to me," was -his rejoinder. "Love isn't for a poor man unless he'll take it on the -half-shell without dressing; and I fancy neither of us would much care -for it that way. My bank-account is a standing reason why I shouldn't -marry anybody." - -"The sentiment does credit to Mr. Neligage's head if not to his heart," -commented the sneering voice of Miss Wentstile, who at that moment came -through the portieres from the library. "I hope I don't intrude?" - -"Certainly not," Alice answered with spirit. "Mr. Neligage was giving -me a lesson in the social economics of matrimony; but I knew before all -he has to tell." - -"Then, my dear," her aunt said, "I trust he will excuse you. It is time -we went to Mrs. Wilson's. I promised the Count that we would be there -early." - - - - -IX - -THE MISCHIEF OF A GENTLEMAN - - -The Goddess of Misfortune sometimes capriciously takes a spite against -an entire family, so that all of its members are at the same time -involved in one misadventure or another. She shows a malicious impulse -to wreak her disfavor on all of a connection at once, apparently from a -knowledge that misery begets misery, and that nothing so completely -fills to overflowing the cup of vexation as the finding that those from -whom sympathy would naturally be expected are themselves in a condition -to demand rather than to give it. She apparently amuses herself in mere -wantonness of enjoyment of the sufferings of her victims when no one of -them is in a condition to cheer the others. She illustrated this -unamiable trait of her celestial character next day in her dealing with -the Neligages, mother and son. - -It was a beautiful spring day, not too warm in the unseasonable fashion -which often makes a New England April so detestable, but with a fresh -air full of exhilaration. Even in the city the cool, invigorating -morning was refreshing. It provoked thoughts of springing grass and -swelling buds, it suggested the marsh-marigolds preparing their gold -down amid the roots of rushes, it teased the sense with vague yet -disquieting desires to be in the open. The sun called to mind the -amethystine foliage, half mist and half leaves, which was beginning to -appear in the woods, as if trailing clouds had become entangled among -the twig-set branches. The wind brought a spirit of daring, as if to-day -one could do and not count the cost; as if adventures were the normal -experience of man, and dreams might become tangible with the foliage -which was condensing out of the spring air. It was one of those rare -days which put the ideal to shame. - -The windows of Mrs. Neligage's little parlor were open, and the morning -air with all its provoking suggestions was floating in softly, as she -rose to welcome a caller. He was not in the first springtime of life, -yet suggested a season which was to spring what Indian summer is to -autumn. A certain brisk jauntiness in face, dress, and manner might mean -that he had by sheer determination remained far younger than his years. -He had a hard, handsome face, with cleanly cut features, and side -whiskers which were perhaps too long and flowing. His hair was somewhat -touched with gray, but it was abundant, and curled attractively about -his high, white forehead. His dress was perfection, and gave the -impression that if he had moral scruples--about which his hard, bright -eyes might raise a doubt--it would be in the direction of being always -perfectly attired. His manner as he greeted Mrs. Neligage was carefully -genial, yet the spring which was in the air seemed in his presence to be -chilled by an untimely frost. - -"How bright you are looking this morning, Louise," Mr. Sibley Langdon -said, kissing her hand with an elaborate air of gallantry. "You are -really the incarnation of the spring that is upon us." - -She smiled languidly, drawing away her hand and moving to a seat. - -"You know I am getting old enough to like to be told I am young, -Sibley," was her answer. "Sit down, and tell me what has happened in the -month that I've been in Washington." - -"Nothing can happen while you are away," he responded, with a smile. "We -only vegetate, and wait for your return. You don't mind if I smoke?" - -"Certainly not. How is Mrs. Langdon?" - -He drew out a cigarette-case of tortoise-shell and gold, helped himself -to a cigarette, and lighted it before he answered. - -"Mrs. Langdon is as usual," he replied. "She is as ill and as pious as -ever." - -"For which is she to be pitied the more?" - -"Oh, I don't know that she is to be pitied for either," Langdon -responded, in his crisp, well-bred voice. "Both her illness and her -piety are in the nature of occupations to her. One must do something, -you know." - -Mrs. Neligage offered no reply to this, and for half a moment the caller -smoked in silence. - -"Tell me about yourself," he said. "You cruelly refuse to write to me, -so that when you are away I am always in the dark as to what you are -doing. I've no doubt you had all Washington at your feet." - -"Oh, there were a few unimportant exceptions," Mrs. Neligage returned, -her voice a little hard. "I don't think that if you went on now you'd -find the capital draped in mourning over my departure." - -Langdon knocked the ashes from his cigarette with the deliberation which -marked all his movements. Then he looked at his hostess curiously. - -"You don't seem to be in the best of spirits this morning, Louise," he -said. "Has anything gone wrong?" - -She looked at him with contracting brows, and ignored his question as -she demanded abruptly:-- - -"What did you come to say to me?" - -"To say to you, my dear? I came as usual to say how much I admire you, -of course." - -She made an impatient gesture. - -"What did you come to say?" she repeated. "Do you think I don't know you -well enough to see when you have some especial purpose in mind?" - -Sibley Langdon laughed lightly,--a sort of inward, well-bred laugh,--and -again with care trimmed his cigarette. - -"You are a person of remarkable penetration, and it is evidently of no -use to hope to get ahead of you. I really came for the pleasure of -seeing you, but now that I am here I may as well mention that I have -decided to go abroad almost at once." - -"Ah," Mrs. Neligage commented. "Does Mrs. Langdon go with you?" - -He laughed outright, as if the question struck him as unusually droll. - -"You really cannot think me so selfish as to insist upon her risking her -fragile health by an ocean voyage just for my pleasure." - -"I suspected that you meant to go alone," she said dryly. - -"But, my dear child," he answered with no change of manner, "I don't -mean to go alone." - -She changed color, but she did not pursue the subject. She took up from -the table a little Japanese ivory carving, and began to examine it with -close scrutiny. - -"You do not ask whom I hope to take with me," Langdon said. - -She looked at him firmly. - -"I have no possible interest in knowing," she responded. - -"You are far too modest, Louise. On the contrary you have the greatest. -I had hoped--" - -He half hesitated over the sentence, and she interrupted him by rising -and moving to the open window. - -"It is so nice to have the windows open again," she said. "I feel as if -I were less alone when there is nothing between me and the world. That -big fat policeman over there is a great friend of mine." - -"We are all your slaves, you see," Langdon responded, rising languidly -and joining her. "By the way, I had a letter from Count Marchetti the -other day." - -Mrs. Neligage flushed and paled, and into her eye came a dangerous -sparkle. She moved away from him, and went back to her seat, leaving him -to follow again. She did not look at him, but she spoke with a -determined manner which showed that she was not cowed. - -"Before I go to bed to-night, Sibley," she said, "I shall write to the -Countess the whole story of her necklace. I was a fool not to do it -before." - -He smiled indulgently. - -"Oh, did I call up that old unpleasantness?" he observed. "I really beg -your pardon. But since you speak of it, what good would it do to write -to her now? It would make no difference in facts, of course; and it -wouldn't change things here at all." - -She sprang up and turned upon him in a fury. - -"Sibley Langdon," she cried, "you are a perfect fiend!" - -He laughed and looked at her with admiration so evident that her eyes -fell. - -"You have told me that before, and you are so devilish handsome when you -say it, Louise, that I can't resist the temptation sometimes of making -you repeat it. Come, don't be cross. We are too wise if not too old to -talk melodrama." - -"I shall act melodrama if you keep on tormenting me! What did you come -here for this morning? Say it, and have done." - -"If you take it that way," returned he, "I came only to say -good-morning." - -His coolness was unshaken, and he smiled as charmingly as ever. - -"Tell me," he remarked, flinging his cigarette end into the grate and -taking out his case again, "did you see the Kanes in Washington?" - -He lighted a fresh cigarette, and for half an hour talked of casual -matters, the people of their set in Washington, the new buildings there, -the decorations, and the political scandals. His manner became almost -deferential, and Mrs. Neligage as they chatted lost gradually all trace -of the excitement which she had shown. At length the talk came round to -their neighbors at home. - -"I met Count Shimbowski at the club the other day," Langdon remarked, -"and he alluded to the old days at Monte Carlo almost with sentiment. It -is certainly amusing to see him passed round among respectable Boston -houses." - -"He is respectable enough according to his standards," she responded. -"It is funny, though, to see how much afraid he is that Miss Wentstile -should know about his past history." - -"I suppose there's no doubt he's to marry Alice Endicott, is there?" - -"There is Alice herself," Mrs. Neligage answered. "I should call her a -pretty big doubt." - -"At any rate," her companion observed, "Jack can't marry her. Miss -Wentstile would never give them a penny." - -"I have never heard Jack say that he wished to marry her," Mrs. -Neligage responded coolly. "You are quite right about Miss Wentstile, -though; she regards Jack as the blackest sheep imaginable." - -Langdon did not speak for a moment or two, and when he did break silence -his manner was more decided than before. - -"What line do you like best to cross by?" he asked. - -"I have been on so many," she answered, "that I really can't tell." - -"It is safe to say then that you like a fast boat." - -She made no reply, and only played nervously with the clever carving in -her hand, where little ivory rats were stealing grain with eternal -motionless activity. - -"Of course if you were going over this spring," Langdon said, "we should -be likely to meet somewhere on the other side; Paris, very possibly. It -is a pity that people gossip so, or we might go on the same steamer." - -She looked him squarely in the face. - -"I am not going abroad this summer," she said distinctly. - -"Oh, my dear Louise," returned he half mockingly, half pleadingly, "you -really can't mean that. Europe would be intolerably dull without you." - -She looked up, pale to the eyes. - -"My son would be dull here without me," she said. - -"Oh, Jack," returned the other, shrugging his shoulders, "he'll get on -very well. If you were going, you know, you might leave him something--" - -She started to her feet with eyes blazing. - -"You had better go," she said in a low voice. "I have endured a good -deal from you, Sibley; and I've always known that the day would come -when you'd insult me. It will be better for us both if you go." - -He rose in his turn, as collected as ever. - -"Insult you, my dear Louise? Why, I wouldn't hurt your feelings for -anything in the world. I give you leave to repeat every word that I have -said to any of your friends,--to Miss Wentstile, or Letty Harbinger, or -to Jack--" - -"If I repeated them to Jack," she interrupted him, "he'd break every -bone in your body!" - -"Would he? I doubt it. At any rate he would have to hear me first; and -then--" - -Mrs. Neligage, all her brightness quenched, her face old and miserable, -threw out her hands in despairing supplication. - -"Go!" she cried. "Go! Or I shall do something we'll both be sorry for! -Go, or I'll call that policeman over there." - -He laughed lightly, but he moved toward the door. - -"Gad!" he ejaculated. "That would make a pretty item in the evening -papers. Well, if you really wish it, I'll go; but I hope you'll think -over what I've said, or rather think over what I haven't said, since -you haven't seemed pleased with my words. I shall come at one to drive -you to the County Club." - -He bade her an elaborate good-morning, and went away, as collected, as -handsome, as debonaire as ever; while Mrs. Neligage, the hard, bright -little widow who had the reputation of being afraid of nothing and of -having no feelings, broke down into a most unusual fit of crying. - - - - -X - -THE BUSINESS OF A CLUBMAN - - -The first game of polo for the season at the County Club was to be -played that Saturday. The unusually early spring had put the turf in -condition, and the men had had more or less practice. It was too soon, -of course, for a match, but there was to be a friendly set-to between -the County Club team and a team from the Oracle Club. It was not much -more than an excuse for bringing the members out, and for having a mild -gala, with fresh spring toilettes and spring buoyancy to add to the zest -of the day. - -Amusement is a business which calls for a good deal of brains if it is -to be carried on successfully. Of course only professionals can hope to -succeed in a line so difficult, and in America there are few real -professionals in the art of self-amusement. Most men spoil their chances -of complete success by dallying more or less with work of one sort or -another; and this is fatal. Only he who is sincere in putting amusement -first, and to it sacrifices all other considerations, can hope for true -preeminence in this calling. Jack Neligage was one of the few men in -Boston entirely free from any weakness in the way of occupation beyond -that of pleasure-seeking; and as a consequence he was one of the few -who did it well. - -All forms of fashionable play came easily and naturally to Jack, and in -them all he bore a part with tolerable grace. He was sufficiently adept -at tennis in its day; and when that had passed, he was equally adroit in -golf and in curling; he could lead a german better than anybody else; -nobody so well managed assemblies and devised novel surprises in the way -of decorations; nobody else so well arranged coaching trips or so surely -made the life of a house party. All these things were part of his -profession as a pleasure-seeker, and they were all done with a quick and -merry spirit which gave to them a charm not to be resisted. - -It was on the polo-field, however, that Jack was at his best. No man who -hopes to keep up with the fashions can afford to become too much -interested in any single sport, for presently the fad will alter, and he -must perforce abandon the old delights; but polo held its own very well, -and it was evidently the thing in which Jack reveled most. He was the -leading player not of his club only, but of all the clubs about. His -stud of polo-ponies was selected with more care than has often gone to -the making of a state constitution, for the matters that are really -important must be attended to with zeal, while public politics may be -expected more or less to take care of themselves. His friends wondered -how Neligage contrived to get hold of ponies so valuable, or how he was -able to keep so expensive an outfit after he had obtained it; but -everybody was agreed that he had a most wonderful lot. - -The question of how he managed might have been better understood by any -one who had chanced to overhear a conversation between Jack and Dr. -Wilson, which took place just before luncheon that day. Dr. Wilson was -chairman of the board of managers of the club. He was a man who had come -into the club chiefly as the husband of Mrs. Chauncy Wilson, a lady -whose stud was one of the finest in the state, and he was somewhat -looked down upon by the men of genuine old family. He was good-humored, -however; shrewd if a little unrefined; and he had been rich long enough -to carry the burden of his wife's enormous fortune without undue -self-consequence. To-day it became his duty to talk to Jack on an -unpleasant matter of business. - -"Jack," he said, "I've got to pitch into you again." - -"The same old thing, I suppose." - -"Same old thing. Sometimes I've half a mind to resign from the club, so -as to get rid of having to drub you fellows about your bills." - -Jack gnawed his mustache, twisting his cigar in his fingers in a way -that threatened to demolish it altogether. - -"I've told you already that I can't do anything until--" - -"Oh, I know it," Wilson broke in. "I'm satisfied, but the committee is -getting scared. The finances of the club are in an awful mess; there's -no denying that. Some of the men on the committee, you see, are afraid -of being blamed for letting the credits run on so." - -Jack did not take advantage of the pause which gave him an opportunity -to speak, and the other went on again. - -"I'm awfully sorry, old man; but there's got to be an end somewhere, and -nobody's been given the rope that you have." - -"I can resign, of course," Jack said shortly. - -"Oh, dry up that sort of talk! Nobody'd listen to your resigning. -Everybody wants you here, and we couldn't spare you from the polo team." - -"But if I can't pay up, what else can I do?" - -"But you can't resign in debt, man." - -Jack laughed with savage amusement. - -"What the devil am I to do? I can't stay, and I can't leave. That seems -to be about the size of it." - -Dr. Wilson looked at his companion keenly, and there was in his tone -some hesitation as he replied. - -"You might sell--" - -"Sell my ponies!" broke in Neligage excitedly. "When I do I'll give up -playing." - -"Oh, nonsense! Don't be so infernally stubborn. Harbinger'll buy one, -and I'll buy a couple, and the others it doesn't matter about. You've -always had twice as many as you need." - -"So you propose that I shouldn't have any." - -"You could use them just the same." - -Jack swore savagely. - -"Thank you," he returned. "I may be a beggar, but I won't be a beat." - -Wilson laughed with his oily, chuckling laugh. - -"I don't see," he observed with characteristic brusqueness, "why it is -any worse to take a favor from a friend that offers it than to get it -out of a club that can't help itself." - -Jack's cheeks flushed, and he began an angry reply. Then he restrained -himself. - -"I won't quarrel with you for doing your official duty, Wilson," he said -stiffly. "I'll fix things somehow or get out." - -"Oh, hang it, man," returned the doctor good-naturedly, "you mustn't -talk of getting out. I'll lend you what you need." - -"Thank you, but you know I can't pay you." - -"That's no matter. Something will turn up, and you may pay me when you -get ready." - -"No; I'm deep enough in the mire as it is. I won't make it worse by -borrowing. That's the only virtue that I ever had,--that I didn't sponge -on my friends. I'm just as much obliged to you; but I can't do it." - -They had been sitting in the smoking-room before the fireplace where a -smouldering log or two took from the air its spring chill. Jack as he -spoke flung the stub of his cigar into the ashes, and rose with an air -of considering the conversation definitely ended. Wilson looked up at -him, his golden-brown eyes more sober than usual. - -"Of course it is just as you say, old man," he remarked; "but if you -change your mind, you've only to let me know." - -Jack moved off with a downcast air unusual to him, but by the time he -had encountered two or three men who were about the club-house, and had -exchanged with them a jest or a remark about the coming game, his face -was as sunny as ever. People were now arriving rather rapidly, and soon -the stylish trap of Sibley Langdon came bowling up the driveway in fine -style, with Mrs. Neligage sitting beside the owner. Jack was on the -front piazza when they drove up, and his mother waved her hand to him -gayly. - -"Gad, Jack," one of the men said, "your mother is a wonder. She looks -younger than you do this minute." - -"I don't think she is," Jack returned with a grin; "but you're right. -She is a wonderfully young woman to be the mother of a great cub like -me." - -Not only in her looks did Mrs. Neligage give the impression of youth, -but her movements and her unquenchable vivacity might put to a -disadvantage half of the young girls. She tripped up the steps as -lightly as a leaf blown by the wind, her trim figure swaying as lithely -as a willow-shoot. As she came to Jack she said to him in a tone loud -enough to be heard by all who were on the piazza:-- - -"Oh, Jack, come into the house a moment. I want to show you a letter." - -She dropped a gay greeting here and there as she led the way, and in a -moment they were alone inside the house. Mrs. Neligage turned instantly, -with a face from which all gayety had vanished as the color of a -ballet-dancer's cheek vanishes under the pall of a green light. - -"Jack," she said hastily, "I am desperate. I am in the worst scrape I -ever was in, in my life. Can you raise any money?" - -He looked at her a moment in amazed silence; then he laughed roughly. - -"Money?" he retorted. "I am all but turned out of the club to-day for -want of it. This is probably my last game." - -"You are not in earnest?" she demanded, pressing closer to him, and -putting her hand on his arm. "You are not really going to leave the -club?" - -"What else can I do? The committee think it isn't possible to let things -go any longer." - -She looked into his face, her own hardening. She studied him with a keen -glance, which he met firmly, yet with evident effort. - -"Jack," she said at length, her voice lower, "there is only one way out -of it. Last night you wouldn't listen to me; but you must now. You must -marry May Calthorpe. If you were engaged to her it would be easy enough -to raise money." - -"You talk as if she were only waiting for me to say the word, and she'd -rush into my arms." - -"She will, she must, if you'll have her. You wouldn't take her for your -own good, but you've got to do it for mine. You can't let me be ruined -just through your obstinacy." - -"Ruined? What under the canopy do you mean, mother? You are trying to -scare me to make me go your way." - -"I'm not, Jack; upon my word I'm not! I tell you I'm in an awful mess, -and you must stand by me." - -Jack turned away from her and walked toward the window; then he faced -her again with a look which evidently questioned how far she was really -in earnest. There had been occasions when Mrs. Neligage had used her -histrionic powers to get the better of her son in some domestic -discussion, and the price of such success is inevitably distrust. Now -she faced him boldly, and met his look with a nod of perfect -comprehension. - -"Yes, I am telling you the truth, Jacky. There is nothing for it but for -us both to go to smash if you won't take May." - -"Take May," he echoed impatiently, "how you do keep saying that! How can -I take her? She doesn't care a straw about me anyway, and I've no doubt -she looks on me as one of the old fellows." - -"She being eighteen and you twenty-five," his mother answered, smiling -satirically. "But somebody is coming. I can't talk to you now; only this -one thing I must say. Play into my hands as you can if you will, and -you'll be engaged to May before the week's over." - -He broke into a roar of laughter which had a sound of being as much -nerves as amusement. - -"Is this a comic opera?" he demanded. - -"Yes, dear Jacky," his mother retorted, resuming her light manner, -"that's just what it is. Don't you miss your cue." - -She left him, and went gayly forward to greet the new-comers, ladies who -had just driven up, and Jack followed her lead with a countenance from -which disturbance and bewilderment had not entirely vanished. - - - - -XI - -THE GAME OF CROSS-PURPOSES - - -Mrs. Neligage escaped from her friends speedily, with that easy -swiftness which is in the power of the socially adroit, and returned to -the piazza by a French window which opened at the side of the house, and -so was not in sight from the front of the club. There she came upon -Count Shimbowski comfortably seated in a sunny corner, smoking and -meditating. - -"Ah, Count," she said, as he rose to receive her, "this is unexpected -pleasure. Are you resting from the strain of continual adulation?" - -"What you say?" he responded. Then he dropped into his seat with a -despairing gesture. "Dis Eengleesh," he said; "eet ees eemposseeble eet -to know. I have told Mees Wentsteele dat she ees very freesh, and--" - -He ended with a groan, and a snug little Hungarian oath under his -breath. - -"Fresh!" echoed Mrs. Neligage, with a laugh like a redbird whisking -gayly from branch to branch. "My dear Count, she is anything but fresh. -She is as stale as a last year's love-affair. But she ought to be -pleased to be told she is fresh." - -"Oh, I say: 'You be so freesh, Mees Wentsteele,' and she, she say: -'Freesh, Count Shimbowski? You result me!' Den day teel me freesh mean -fooleesh, _sotte_. What language ees dat?" - -"Oh, it isn't so bad as you think, Count. It is only _argot_ anyway, and -it doesn't mean _sotte_, but _naive_. Besides, she wouldn't mind. She is -enough of a woman to be pleased that you even tried to tell her she was -young." - -"But no more ees she young." - -"No more, Count. We are all of us getting to be old enough to be our own -grandmothers. Miss Wentstile looks as if she was at the Flood and forgot -to go in when it rained." - -The Count looked more puzzled than amused at this sally, but his -politeness came to his rescue. A compliment is always the resource of a -man of the world when a lady puzzles him. - -"Eet ees only Madame Neleegaze to what belong eemortal youth," he said -with a bow. - -She rose and swept him a courtesy, and then took from her dress one of -the flowers she was wearing, which chanced to be very portly red -carnations. - -"You are as gallant as ever, Count," she said, "so that your English -doesn't matter. Besides that, you have a title; and American women love -a title as a moth loves a candle." - -She stuck the carnation into his buttonhole as she spoke, and returned -to her seat, where she settled herself with the air of one ready for a -serious chat. - -"It is very odd to see you on this side of the Atlantic, Count," she -remarked. "Tell me, what are you doing in this country,--besides taking -the town by storm, that is?" - -"I weell range my own self;--say you een Eengleesh 'arrange my own -self'?" - -"When it means you are going to marry, Count, it might be well to say -that you are going to arrange yourself and derange somebody else. Is the -lady Miss Endicott?" - -"Eet ees Mees Endeecott. Ees she not good for me?" - -"She is a thousand times too good for you, my dear fellow; but she is as -poor as a church mouse." - -"Ah, but her aunt, Mees Wentsteele, she geeve her one _dot_: two -thousand hundred dollar. Eet weell be a meellion francs, ees eet not?" - -"So you get a million francs for yourself, Count. It is more than I -should have thought you worth." - -"But de teettle!" - -"Oh, the title is worth something, but I could buy one a good deal -cheaper. If I remember correctly I might have had yours for nothing, -Count." - -The Count did not look entirely pleased at this reminiscence, but he -smiled, and again took refuge in a compliment. - -"To one so _ravissante_ as madame all teettles are under her feet." - -"I wish you would set up a school for compliments here in Boston, -Count, and teach our men to say nice things. Really, a Boston man's -compliments are like molasses candy, they are so home-made. But why -don't you take the aunt instead of the niece? Miss Wentstile is worth -half a million." - -"Dat weell be mouche," responded the Count with gravity; "but she have -bones." - -The widow laughed lightly. The woman who after forty can laugh like a -girl is one who has preserved her power over men, and she is generally -one fully aware of the fact. Mrs. Neligage had no greater charm than her -light-hearted laugh, which no care could permanently subdue. She tossed -her head, and then shook it at the Count. - -"Yes," she responded, "you are unfortunately right. She has bones. By -the way, do you happen to have with you that letter I gave you at Mrs. -Harbinger's yesterday?" - -"Yes," he answered, drawing from his pocket the note addressed to -Christopher Calumus, "I have eet." - -"I would like to see it," Mrs. Neligage said, extending her hand. - -The Count smiled, and held it up. - -"You can see eet," said he, "but eet ees not permeet you weedeen de hand -to have eet." - -She leaned forward and examined it closely, studying the address with -keen eyes. - -"It is no matter," was her remark. "I only wanted to make sure." - -"Do you de handwrite know?" he demanded eagerly. - -"And if I do?" - -"You do know," he broke out in French. "I can see it in your face. Tell -me who wrote it." - -She shook her head, smiling teasingly. Then she rose, and moved toward -the window by which she had come from the house. - -"No, Count," was her answer. "It doesn't suit my plan to tell you. I -didn't think quickly enough yesterday, or I wouldn't have given it to -you. It was in your hands before I thought whose writing it was." - -The Count, who had risen, bowed profoundly. - -"After all," he said, "I need not trouble you. Mrs. Harbinger -acknowledged that she wrote it." - -Mrs. Neligage flashed back at him a mocking grimace as she withdrew by -the window. - -"I never expected to live to see you believe a thing because a woman -said it," she laughed. "You must have been in strange hands since I used -to know you!" - -Left alone, the Count thoughtfully regarded the letter for a moment, -then with a shrug he restored it to his pocket, and turned to go around -the corner of the house to the front piazza. Sounds of wheels, of -voices, of talking, and of laughter told of the gathering of -pleasure-seekers; and scarcely had the Count passed the corner than he -met Mr. Bradish face to face. There were groups of men and women on the -piazza and on the lawn, with the horses and dogs in sight which are the -natural features in such a picture at an out-of-town club. The Count -heeded none of these things, but stepped forward eagerly. - -"Ah, Count, you have come out to the games like everybody else, I see," -Bradish said pleasantly. - -"Eet ees extreme glad to see me, Mr. Bradeesh," the Count returned, -shaking him by the hand. "Do you weelleengly come wid us a leettle, for -dat I say to you ver' particle?" - -Bradish, with his usual kindly courtesy, followed the Count around the -corner of the house, out of sight of the arriving company. - -"Something particular to say to me, Count?" he observed. "You do me too -much honor." - -"Eet weell be of honor dat I weell to you speak," the Count responded. -"Weell you for myself de condescension to have dat you weell be one -friend to one _affaire d'honneur_?" - -Bradish stared at him in undisguised amazement. - -"An _affaire d'honneur_?" he echoed. "Surely you don't mean that you are -going to fight? You can't mean a duel?" - -"Oh, _oui, oui_; eet weell be a duel dat eet calls you." - -Bradish stared harder than ever, and then sat down as if overcome. - -"But, my dear Count, you can't fight duels in America." - -"For what weell not een Amereeca fight? He have result me! Me, Count -Ernst Shimbowski! Weell I not to have hees blood?" - -"I'm afraid you won't," Bradish responded, shaking his head. "That isn't -the way we do things here. But who is it has insulted you?" - -The Count became more and more excited as he spoke of his wrongs, and -with wide gestures he appealed to the whole surrounding region to bear -him out in his rage and his resolution. He stood over Bradish like an -avenging and furious angel, swaying his body by way of accent to his -words. - -"You deed see! De ladies day deed see! All de world weell have heard dat -he result--he eensult me! De Shimbowski name have been eensult'! Deed he -not say 'Veelaine! Veelaine!' Oh, _sacre nom de mon pere_! 'Veelaine! -Veelaine!' Eet weell not but only blood to wash dat eensult!" - -How an American gentleman should behave when he is seriously asked to -act as a second in a duel in this land and time is a question which has -probably never been authoritatively settled, and which might be reasoned -upon with very curious arguments from different points of view. It is -safe to say that any person who finds himself in such a position could -hardly manage to incur much risk of running into danger, or even of -doing violence to any moral scruples with which he may chance to be -encumbered. He must always feel that the chances of a duel's actually -taking place are so ridiculously small that the whole matter can be -regarded only as food for laughter; and that no matter how eager for -fight one or both of the possible combatants might be, the end will be -peace. So far from making the position of a second more easy, however, -this fact perhaps renders it more difficult. It is harder to face the -ridiculous than the perilous. If there were any especial chance that a -duel would proceed to extremes, that principals would perhaps come to -grief and seconds be with them involved in actual danger, even though -only the ignoble danger of legal complications, a man might feel that -honor called upon him not to fail his friend in extremity. When it is -merely a question of becoming more or less ridiculous according to the -notoriety of the affair, the matter is different. The demand of society -is that a gentleman shall be ready to brave peril, but there is nothing -in the social code which goes so far as to call upon him to run the -chance of making himself ridiculous. Society is founded upon the deepest -principles of human nature, and if it demanded of man the sacrifice of -his vanity the social fabric would go to pieces like a house of cards in -a whirlwind. Bradish might have been called upon to risk his life at the -request of the Count, although they were in reality little more than -acquaintances; but he certainly cannot be held to have been under any -obligations to give the world a right to laugh at him. - -Bradish regarded the Count with a smile half amused and half -sympathetic, while the Hungarian poured out his excited protest, and -when there came a pause he said soothingly:-- - -"Oh, sit down and talk it over, my dear Count. I see you mean that -stupid dunce of a Barnstable. You can't fight him. Everybody would laugh -at the very idea. Besides, he isn't your equal socially. You can't fight -him." - -"You do comprehend not!" cried the Count. "De Shimbowski name weell eet -to have blood for de eensult!" - -"But--" - -The Count drew himself up with an air of hauteur which checked the words -on Bradish's lips. - -"Eet ees not for a Shimbowski to beg for favors," he said stiffly. "Eef -eet ees you dat do not serve me--" - -"Oh, I assure you," interrupted Bradish hastily, "I am more than willing -to serve you; but I wanted to warn you that in America we look at things -so differently--" - -"Een Amereeca even," the Count in his turn interrupted with a superb -gesture, "dare weell be gentlemans, ees eet not?" - -In the face of that gesture there was nothing more to be said in the way -of objection. Time and the chapter of accidents must determine what -would come of it, but no man of sensibility and patriotism, appealed to -in that grand fashion in the name of the honor of America, could have -held out longer. Least of all was it to be expected that Harry Bradish, -kindest-hearted of living men, and famous for never being able to refuse -any service that was asked of him, could resist this last touch. He rose -as if to get out of the interview as speedily as possible. - -"Very well then," he said, "if you persist in going on, I'll do what I -can for you, but I give you fair warning once more that it'll come to -nothing more than making us both ridiculous." - -The Count shook hands warmly, but his response was one which might be -said to show less consideration than might have been desired for the man -who was making a sacrifice in his behalf. - -"De Shimbowski name," he declared grandiloquently, yet with evident -sincerity, "ees never reedeeculous." - -There followed some settling of details, in all of which Bradish evinced -a tendency to temporize and to postpone, but in which the ardor of the -Count so hurried everything forward that had Barnstable been on the spot -the duel might have been actually accomplished despite all obstacles. It -was evident, however, that one side cannot alone arrange a meeting of -honor, and in the end little could be done beyond the Count's receiving -a promise from Bradish that the latter would communicate with Barnstable -as soon as possible. - -This momentous and blood-curdling decision having been arrived at, the -two gentlemen emerged from their retirement on the side piazza, and once -more joined the gay world as represented by the now numerous gathering -assembled to see the polo at the County Club. - - - - -XII - -THE WASTING OF REQUESTS - - -The exhilaration of the spring day, the pleasure of taking up once more -the outdoor life of the warm season, the little excitement which belongs -to the assembling of merry-makers, the chatter, the laughter, all the -gay bustle combined to fill the County Club with a joyous atmosphere. -Before the front of the house was a sloping lawn which merged into an -open park, here and there dotted with groups of budding trees and -showing vividly the red of golf flags. The driveway wound in curves of -carefully devised carelessness from the country road beyond the park to -the end of the piazza, and all arrivals could be properly studied as -they approached. The piazza was wide and roomy, so that it was not -crowded, although a considerable number of men and women were there -assembled; and from group to group laughter answered laughter. - -Mrs. Harbinger in the capacity of chaperone had with her Alice Endicott -and May Calthorpe. The three ladies stood chatting with Dick Fairfield, -tossing words back and forth like tennis-balls for the sheer pleasure of -the exercise. - -"Oh, I insist," Fairfield said, "that spring is only a season when the -days are picked before they are ripe." - -"You say that simply in your capacity of a literary man, Mr. Fairfield," -Alice retorted; "but I doubt if it really means anything." - -"I am afraid it doesn't mean much," he responded laughing, "but to -insist that an epigram must mean something would limit production -dreadfully." - -"Then we are to understand," Mrs. Harbinger observed, "that what you -literary men say is never to be taken seriously." - -"Oh, you should make a distinction, Mrs. Harbinger. What a literary man -says in his professional capacity you are at liberty to believe or not, -just as you choose; but of course in regard to what is said in his -personal capacity it is different." - -"There, I suppose," she retorted, "he is simply to be classed with other -men, and not to be believed at all." - -"Bless me, what cynicism! Where is Mr. Harbinger to defend his -reputation?" - -"He is so absorbed in getting ready for the game that he has forgotten -all about any reputation but that of a polo-player," Mrs. Harbinger -returned. "And that reminds me that I haven't seen his new pony. Come, -Alice, you appreciate a horse. We must go and examine this new wonder -from Canada." - -"We are not invited apparently," May said, seating herself in a piazza -chair. "It is evidently your duty, Mr. Fairfield, to stay here and -entertain me while they are gone." - -"I remain to be entertained," he responded, following her example. - -Mrs. Harbinger and Alice went off to the stables, and the pair left -behind exchanged casual comments upon the day, the carriages driving up, -the smart spring gowns of the ladies, and that sort of verbal -thistledown which makes up ordinary society chit-chat. A remark which -Fairfield made on the attire of a dashing young woman was the means of -bringing the talk around again to the subject which had been touched -upon between them on the previous afternoon. - -"I suppose," Miss Calthorpe observed, "that a man who writes stories has -to know about clothes. You do write stories, I am sure, Mr. Fairfield." - -He smiled, and traced a crack in the piazza floor with his stick. - -"Which means, of course," he said, "that you have never read any of -them. That is so far lucky for me." - -"Why is it lucky?" - -"Because you might not have liked them." - -"But on the other hand I might have liked them very much." - -"Well, perhaps there is that chance. I don't know, however, that I -should be willing to run the risk. What kind of a story do you like?" - -"I told you that yesterday, Mr. Fairfield. If you really cared for my -opinion you would remember." - -"You said that you liked 'Love in a Cloud.' Is that what you mean?" - -"Then you do remember," she remarked with an air of satisfaction. -"Perhaps it was only because you liked the book yourself." - -"Why not believe that it was because I put so much value on your -opinion?" - -"Oh, I am not so vain as that, Mr. Fairfield," she cried. "If you -remember, it was not on my account." - -He laughed without replying, and continued the careful tracing of the -crack in the floor as if the occupation were the pleasantest imaginable. -May watched him for a moment, and then with the semblance of pique she -turned her shoulder toward him. The movement drew his eyes, and he -suddenly stopped his occupation to straighten up apologetically. - -"I was thinking," he said, "what would be the result of your reading -such stories of mine as have been published--there have been a few, you -know, in the magazines--if you were to test them by the standard of -'Love in a Cloud.' I'm afraid they might not stand it." - -She smiled reassuringly, but perhaps with a faint suggestion of -condescension. - -"One doesn't expect all stories to be as good as the best," she -observed. - -Fairfield turned his face away for a quick flash of a grin to the -universe in general; then with perfect gravity he looked again at his -companion. - -"I am afraid," he said, "that even the author of 'Love in a Cloud' -wouldn't expect so much of you as that you should call his story the -best." - -"I do call it the best," she returned, a little defiantly. "Don't you?" - -"No," he said slowly, "I couldn't go so far as that." - -"But you spoke yesterday as if you admired it." - -"But that isn't the same thing as saying that there is nothing better." - -Miss Calthorpe began to tap her small foot impatiently. - -"That is always the way with men who write," she declared. "They always -have all sorts of fault to find with everything." - -"Have you known a great many literary men?" he asked. - -There are few things more offensive in conversation, especially in -conversation with a lady, than an insistence upon logic. To ask of a -woman that she shall make only exact statements is as bad as to require -her to be always consistent, and there is small reason for wonder if at -this inquiry Miss Calthorpe should show signs of offense. - -"I do not see what that has to do with the matter," she returned -stiffly. "Of course everybody knows about literary men." - -The sun of the April afternoon smiled over the landscape, and the young -man smiled under his mustache, which was too large to be entirely -becoming. He glanced up at his companion, who did not smile in return, -but only sat there looking extremely pretty, with her flushed cheeks, -her dark hair in pretty willful tendrils about her temples, and her -dark eyes alight. - -"Perhaps you have some personal feeling about the book," he said. "You -know that it is claimed that a woman's opinion of literature is always -half personal feeling." - -She flushed more deeply yet, and drew herself up as if he were intruding -upon unwarrantable matters. - -"I don't even know who wrote the book," she replied. - -"Then it is only the book itself that you admire, and not the author?" - -"Of course it is the book. Haven't I said that I don't even know who the -author is? I can't see," she went on somewhat irrelevantly, "why it is -that as soon as there is anything that is worth praising you men begin -to run it down." - -He looked as if he were a trifle surprised at her warmth. - -"Run it down?" he repeated. "Why, I am not running it down. I said that -I admired the novel, didn't I?" - -"But you said that you didn't think it was one of the best," she -insisted. - -"But you might allow a little for individual taste, Miss Calthorpe." - -"Oh, of course there is a difference in individual tastes, but that has -to do with the parts of the story that one likes best. It's nothing at -all to do with whether one isn't willing to confess its merits." - -He broke into a laugh of so much amusement that she contracted her level -brows into a frown which made her prettier than ever. - -"Now you are laughing at me," she said almost pouting. "It is so -disappointing to find that I was deceived. Of course I know that there -is a good deal of professional jealousy among authors, but I shouldn't -have thought--" - -She perhaps did not like to complete her sentence, and so left it for -him to end with a fresh laugh. - -"I wish I dared tell you how funny that is!" he chuckled. - -She made no reply to this, but turned her attention to the landscape. -There was a silence of a few moments, in which Fairfield had every -appearance of being amused, while she equally showed that she was -offended. The situation was certainly one from which a young author -might derive a good deal of satisfaction. It is not often that it falls -to the lot of a writer to find his work so sincerely and ardently -admired that he is himself taken to task for being jealous of its -success. Such pleasure as comes from writing anonymous books must be -greatly tempered by the fact that in a world where it is so much more -easy to blame than to praise the author is sure to hear so much more -censure of his work than approbation. To be accused by a young and -pretty girl of a fault which one has not committed and from which one -may be clear at a word is in itself a pleasing pastime, and when the -imaginary fault is that of not sufficiently admiring one's own book, -the titillation of the vanity is as lively as it is complicated. The -spirit which Miss Calthorpe had shown, her pretty vehemence, and her -marked admiration for "Love in a Cloud" might have seemed charming to -any man who had a taste for beauty and youthful enthusiasm; upon the -author of the book she praised it was inevitable that they should work -mightily. - -The pair were interrupted by the return of Mrs. Harbinger and Alice, who -reported that there were so many men about the stables, and the ponies -were being so examined and talked over by the players, that it was -plainly no place for ladies. - -"It was evident that we weren't wanted," Mrs. Harbinger said. "I hope -that we are here. Ah, here comes the Count." - -The gentleman named, fresh from his talk with Harry Bradish, came -forward to join them, his smile as sunny as that of the day. - -"See," May whispered tragically to Mrs. Harbinger as the Hungarian -advanced, "he has a red carnation in his buttonhole." - -"He must have read the letter then," Mrs. Harbinger returned hastily. -"Hush!" - -To make the most exciting communication and to follow it by a command to -the hearer to preserve the appearance of indifference is a -characteristically feminine act. It gives the speaker not only the last -word but an effective dramatic climax, and the ever-womanly is nothing -if not dramatic. The complement of this habit is the power of obeying -the difficult order to be silent, and only a woman could unmoved hear -the most nerve-shattering remarks with a manner of perfect tranquillity. - -"Ah, eet ees so sweet loovly ladies een de landscape to see," the Count -declared poetically, "where de birds dey twatter een de trees and things -smell you so mooch." - -"Thank you. Count," Mrs. Harbinger responded. "That is very pretty, but -I am afraid that it means nothing." - -"What I say to you, Madame," the Count responded, with his hand on his -heart, "always eet mean mooch; eet ees dat eet mean everyt'ing!" - -"Then it is certainly time for me to go," she said lightly. "It wouldn't -be safe for me to stay to hear everything. Come, girls: let's walk over -to the field." - -The sitters rose, and they moved toward the other end of the piazza. - -"It is really too early to go to the field," May said, "why don't we -walk out to the new golf-holes first? I want to see how they've changed -the drive over the brook." - -"Very well," Mrs. Harbinger assented. "The shortest way is to go through -the house." - -They passed in through a long window, and as they went Alice Endicott -lingered a little with the Count. That part of the piazza was at the -moment deserted, and so when before entering the house she dropped her -parasol and waited for her companion to pick it up for her, they were -practically alone. - -"Thank you, Count," she said, as he handed her the parasol. "I am sorry -to trouble you." - -"Nodings what eet ees dat I do for Mees Endeecott ees trouble." - -"Is that true?" she asked, pausing with her foot on the threshold, and -turning back to him. "If I could believe it there are two favors that I -should like to ask." - -"Two favors?" he repeated. "Ah, I weell be heavenlee happee eef eet ees -dat I do two favors." - -"One is for myself," she said, "and the other is for Miss Wentstile. I'm -sure you won't refuse me." - -"Who could refuse one ladee so loovlaie!" - -"The first is," Alice went on, paying no heed to the Count's florid -compliments, "that you give me the letter Mrs. Neligage gave you -yesterday." - -"But de ladee what have wrote eet--" - -"The lady that wrote it," Alice interrupted, "desires to have it again." - -"Den weell I to her eet geeve," said the Count. - -"But she has empowered me to receive it." - -"But dat eet do not empower me eet to geeve." - -"Then you decline to let me have it, Count?" - -"Ah, I am desolation, Mees Endeecott, for dat I do not what you desaire; -but I weell rather to do de oder t'ing what you have weesh." - -"I am afraid, Count, that your willingness to oblige goes no farther -than to let you do what you wish, instead of what I wish. I only wanted -to know where you have known Mrs. Neligage." - -"Ah," he exclaimed, "dat is what Mees Wentsteele have ask. My dear -young lady, eet ees not dat you can be jealous dat once I have known -Madame Neleegaze?" - -She faced him with a look of astonishment so complete that the most -simple could not misunderstand it. Then the look changed into profound -disdain. - -"Jealous!" she repeated. "I jealous, and of you, Count!" - -Her look ended in a smile, as if her sense of humor found the idea of -jealousy too droll to admit of indignation, and she turned to go in -through the window, leaving the Count hesitating behind. - - - - -XIII - -THE WILE OF A WOMAN - - -Before the Count had recovered himself sufficiently to go after Miss -Endicott despite her look of contempt and her yet more significant -amusement, Jack Neligage came toward him down the piazza, and called him -by name. - -"Oh, Count Shimbowski," Jack said. "I beg your pardon, but may I speak -with you a moment?" - -The Count looked after Miss Endicott, but he turned toward Neligage. - -"I am always at your service," he said in French. - -"I wanted to speak to you about that letter that my mother gave you -yesterday. She made a mistake." - -"A mistake?" the Count echoed, noncommittally. - -"Yes. It is not for you." - -"Well?" - -"Will you give it to me, please?" Jack said. - -"But why should I give it to you? Are you Christopher Calumus?" - -"Perhaps," answered Jack, with a grin. "At least I can assure you that -it is on the authority of the author of 'Love in a Cloud' that I ask for -the letter." - -"But I've already refused that letter to a lady." - -"To a lady?" - -"To Miss Endicott." - -"Miss Endicott!" echoed Jack again, in evident astonishment. "Why should -she want it?" - -"She said that she had the authority of the writer, as you say that you -have the authority of the man it was written to." - -"Did you give it to her?" - -"No; but if I did not give it to her, how can I give it to you?" - -Neligage had grown more sober at the mention of Miss Endicott's name; he -stood looking down, and softly beating the toe of his boot with his polo -mallet. - -"May I ask," he said at length, raising his glance to the Count's face, -"what you propose to do with the letter?" - -The other waved his hands in a gesture which seemed to take in all -possible combinations of circumstances, while his shrug apparently -expressed his inner conviction that whichever of these combinations -presented itself Count Shimbowski would be equal to it. - -"At least," he returned, "as Mrs. Harbinger has acknowledged that she -wrote it, I could not give it up without her command." - -Neligage laughed, and swung his mallet through the air, striking an -imaginary ball with much deftness and precision. - -"She said she wrote it, I know; but I think that was only for a lark, -like mother's part in the play. I don't believe Mrs. Harbinger wrote -it. However, here she comes, and you may ask her. I'll see you again. I -must have the letter." - -He broke into a lively whistle, and went off down the walk, as Mrs. -Harbinger emerged through the window which a few moments before she had -entered. - -"I decided that I wouldn't go down to the brook," she said. "It is too -warm to walk. Besides, I wanted to speak to you." - -"Madame Harbeenger do to me too mooch of _honneur_," the Count -protested, with his usual exuberance of gesture. "Eet ees to be me at -her sarveece." - -She led the way back to the chairs where her group had been sitting -shortly before, and took a seat which placed her back toward the only -other persons on the piazza, a couple of men smoking at the other end. - -"Sit down, Count," she said, waving her hand at a chair. "Somebody will -come, so I must say what I have to say quickly. I want that letter." - -The Count smiled broadly, and performed with much success the inevitable -shrug. - -"You dat lettaire weesh; Madame Neleegaze dat lettaire weesh; Mr. -Neleegaze dat lettaire weesh; everybody dat lettaire weesh. Count -Shimbowski dat lettaire he keep, weell eet not?" - -"Mrs. Neligage and Jack want it?" Mrs. Harbinger exclaimed. "What in the -world can have set them on? Did they ask you for it?" - -"Eet ees dat they have ask," the Count answered solemnly. - -"I cannot understand that," she pursued thoughtfully. "Certainly they -can't know who wrote it." - -"Ees eet not dat you have said--" - -"Oh, yes," Mrs. Harbinger interrupted him, with a smile, "I forgot that -they were there when I confessed to it." - -The Count laid his hand on his heart and rolled up his eyes,--not too -much. - -"I have so weesh' to tell you how dat I have dat beauteous lettaire -adore," he said. "I have wear de lettaire een de pocket of my heart." - -This somewhat startling assertion was explained by his pushing aside his -coat so that the top of a letter appeared peeping out of the left pocket -of his waistcoat as nearly over his heart as the exigencies of tailoring -permitted. - -"I shouldn't have let you know that I wrote it," she said. - -"But eet have geeve to me so joyous extrodinaire eet to know!" - -She regarded him shrewdly, then dropping her eyes, she asked:-- - -"Was it better than the other one?" - -"De oder?" he repeated, evidently taken by surprise. "Ah, dat alone also -have I treasured too mooch." - -Mrs. Harbinger broke out frankly into a laugh. - -"Come," she said, "I have caught you. You know nothing about any other. -We might as well be plain with each other. I didn't write that letter -and you didn't write 'Love in a Cloud,' or you'd know about the whole -correspondence." - -"Ah, from de Eden_garten_," cried the Count, "de weemens ees too mooch -for not to fool de man. Madame ees for me greatly too clevaire." - -"Thank you," she said laughingly. "Then give me the letter." - -He bowed, and shrugged, and smiled deprecatingly; but he shook his head. - -"So have Mees Endeecott say. Eef to her I geeve eet not, I can geeve eet -not to you, desolation as eet make of my heart." - -"Miss Endicott? Has she been after the letter too? Is there anybody -else?" - -"Madame Neleegaze, Mr. Neleegaze, Mees Endeecott, Madame Harbeenger," -the Count enumerated, telling them off on his fingers. "Dat ees all now; -but eef I dat lettaire have in my heart-pocket she weell come to me dat -have eet wrote. Ees eet not so? Eet ees to she what have eet wrote dat -eet weell be to geeve eet. I am eenterest to her behold." - -"Then you will not give it to me?" Mrs. Harbinger said, rising. - -He rose also, a mild whirlwind of apologetic shrugs and contortions, -contortions not ungraceful, but as extraordinary as his English. - -"Eet make me desolation een de heart," he declared; "but for now eet -weell be for me to keep dat lettaire." - -He made her a profound bow, and as if to secure himself against farther -solicitation betook himself off. Mrs. Harbinger resumed her chair, and -sat for a time thinking. She tapped the tip of her parasol on the -railing before her, and the tip of her shoe on the floor, but neither -process seemed to bring a solution of the difficulty which she was -pondering. The arrivals at the club were about done, and although it -still wanted some half hour to the time set for the polo game, most of -those who had been about the club had gone over to the polo-field. The -sound of a carriage approaching drew the attention of Mrs. Harbinger. A -vehicle easily to be recognized as belonging to the railway station was -advancing toward the club, and in it sat Mr. Barnstable. The gentleman -was landed at the piazza steps, and coming up, he stood looking about -him as if in doubt what to do next. His glance fell upon Mrs. Harbinger, -and the light of recognition flooded his fluffy face as moonlight floods -the dunes of a sandy shore. He came forward abruptly and awkwardly. - -"Beg pardon, Mrs. Harbinger," he said. "I came out to find your husband. -Do you know where I can see him?" - -"He is all ready to play polo now, Mr. Barnstable," she returned. "I -don't think you can see him until after the game." - -She spoke rather dryly and without any cordiality. He stood with his hat -in his two hands, pulling nervously at the brim. - -"You are very likely angry with me, Mrs. Harbinger," he blurted out -abruptly. "I ought to apologize for what I did at your house yesterday. -I made a fool of myself." - -Mrs. Harbinger regarded him curiously, as if she could hardly make up -her mind how such a person was to be treated. - -"It is not customary to have scenes of that kind in our parlors," she -answered, smiling. - -"I know it," he said, with an accent of deep despair. "It was all my -unfortunate temper that ran away with me. But you don't appreciate, Mrs. -Harbinger, how a man feels when his wife has been made the subject of an -infamous libel." - -"But if you'll let me say so, Mr. Barnstable, I think you are going out -of your way to find trouble. You are not the only man who has been -separated from his wife, and the chances are that the author of 'Love in -a Cloud' never heard of your domestic affairs at all." - -"But he must have," protested Barnstable with growing excitement, -"why--" - -"Pardon me," she interrupted, "I wasn't done. I say that the chance of -the author of that book knowing anything about your affairs is so small -as to be almost impossible." - -"But there were circumstances so exact! Why, all that scene--" - -"Really, Mr. Barnstable," Mrs. Harbinger again interrupted, "you must -not go about telling what scenes are true. That is more of a publishing -of your affairs than any putting them in a novel could be." - -His eyes stared at her from the folds and undulations of his face like -two remarkably large jellyfish cast by the waves among sand heaps. - -"But--but," he stammered, "what am I to do? How would you feel if it -were your wife?" - -She regarded him with a glance which gave him up as incorrigible, and -half turned away her head. - -"I'm sure I can't say," she responded. "I never had a wife." - -Barnstable was too much excited to be restrained by the mild jest, and -dashed on, beginning to gesticulate in his earnestness. - -"And by such a man!" he ran on. "Why, Mrs. Harbinger, just look at this. -Isn't this obliquitous!" - -He pulled from one pocket a handful of letters, dashed through them at a -mad speed, thrust them back and drew another handful from a second -pocket, scrabbled through them, discarded them for the contents of a -third pocket, and in the end came back to the first batch of papers, -where he at last hit upon the letter he was in search of. - -"Only this morning I got this letter from a friend in New York that knew -the Count in Europe. He's been a perfect rake. He's a gambler and a -duelist. There, you take it, Mrs. Harbinger, and read it. You'll see, -then, how I felt when that sort of a man scandaled my wife." - -"But I thought that you received the letter only this morning," -suggested Mrs. Harbinger, with a smile. - -Her companion was too thoroughly excited to be interrupted, and dashed -on. - -"You take the letter, Mrs. Harbinger, and read it for yourself. Then -you show it to your friends. Let people know what sort of a man they are -entertaining and making much of. Damme--I beg your pardon; my temper's -completely roused up!--it makes me sick to see people going on so over -anything that has a title on it. Why, damme--I beg your pardon, Mrs. -Harbinger; I really beg your pardon!--in America if a man has a title he -can rob henroosts for a living, and be the rage in society." - -Mrs. Harbinger reached out her hand deliberately, and took the letter -which was thus thrust at her. She had it safe in her possession before -she spoke again. - -"I shall be glad to see the letter," she said, "because I am curious to -know about Count Shimbowski. That he is what he pretends to be in the -way of family I am sure, for I have seen his people in Rome." - -"Oh, he is a Count all right," Barnstable responded; "but that doesn't -make him any better." - -"As for the book," she pursued calmly, "you are entirely off the track. -The Count cannot possibly have written it. Just think of his English." - -"I've known men that could write English that couldn't speak it -decently." - -"Besides, he hasn't been in the country long enough to have written it. -If he did write it, Mr. Barnstable, how in the world could he know -anything about your affairs? It seems to me, if I may say so, that you -might apply a little common sense to the question before you get into a -rage over things that cannot be so." - -"I was hasty," admitted Barnstable, an expression of mingled penitence -and woe in his face. "I'm afraid I was all wrong about the Count. But -the book has so many things in it that fit, things that were particular, -why, of course when Mrs.--that lady yesterday--" - -"Mrs. Neligage." - -"When she said the Count wrote it, I didn't stop to think." - -"That was only mischief on her part. You might much better say her son -wrote it than the Count." - -"Her son?" repeated Barnstable, starting to his feet. "That's who it is! -Why, of course it was to turn suspicion away from him that his mother--" - -"Good heavens!" Mrs. Harbinger broke in, "don't make another blunder. -Jack Neligage couldn't--" - -"I see it all!" Barnstable cried, not heeding her. "Mr. Neligage was in -Chicago just after my divorce. I heard him say he was there that winter. -Oh, of course he's the man." - -"But he isn't a writer," Mrs. Harbinger protested. - -She rose to face Barnstable, whose inflammable temper had evidently -blazed up again with a suddenness entirely absurd. - -"That's why he wrote anonymously," declared the other; "and that's why -he had to put in real things instead of making them up! Oh, of course -it was Mr. Neligage." - -"Mr. Barnstable," she said with seriousness, "be reasonable, and stop -this nonsense. I tell you Mr. Neligage couldn't have written that book." - -He glared at her with eyes which were wells of obstinacy undiluted. - -"I'll see about that," he said. - -Without other salutation than a nod he walked away, and left her. - -She gazed after him with the look which studies a strange animal. - -"Well," she said softly, aloud, "of all the fools--" - - - - -XIV - -THE CONCEALING OF SECRETS - - -Where a number of persons are in the same place, all interested in the -same matter, yet convinced that affairs must be arranged not by open -discussion but by adroit management, the result is inevitable. Each will -be seeking to speak to some other alone; there will be a constant -shifting and rearranging of groups as characters are moved on and off -the stage in the theatre. Life for the time being, indeed, takes on an -artificial air not unlike that which results from the studied devices of -the playwright. The most simple and accurate account of what takes place -must read like the arbitrary conventions of the boards; and the reader -is likely to receive an impression of unreality from the very closeness -with which the truth has been followed. - -At the County Club that April afternoon there were so many who were in -one way or another interested in the fate of the letter which in a -moment of wild fun Mrs. Neligage had handed over to the Count, that it -was natural that the movements of the company should have much the -appearance of a contrived comedy. No sooner, for instance, had -Barnstable hastened away with a new bee in his bonnet, than Mrs. -Harbinger was joined by Fairfield. He had come on in advance of the -girls, and now at once took advantage of the situation to speak about -the matter of which the air was full. - -"I beg your pardon," he said, "but I left the young ladies chatting with -Mrs. Staggchase, and they'll be here in a minute. I wanted to speak to -you." - -She bestowed the letter which she had received from Barnstable in some -mysterious recess of her gown, some hiding-place which had been devised -as an attempted evasion of the immutable law that in a woman's frock -shall be no real pocket. - -"Go on," she said. "I am prepared for anything now. After Mr. Barnstable -anything will be tame, though; I warn you of that." - -"Mr. Barnstable? I didn't know you knew him till his circus last night." - -"I didn't. He came to me here, and I thought he was going to apologize; -but he ended with a performance crazier than the other." - -"What did he do?" asked Fairfield, dropping into the chair which -Barnstable had recently occupied. "He must be ingenious to have thought -of anything madder than that. He might at least have apologized first." - -"I wasn't fair to him," Mrs. Harbinger said. "He really did apologize; -but now he's rushing off after Jack Neligage to accuse him of having -written that diabolical book that's made all the trouble." - -"Jack Neligage? Why in the world should he pitch upon him?" - -"Apparently because I mentioned Jack as the least likely person I could -think of to have written it. That was all that was needed to convince -Mr. Barnstable." - -"The man must be mad." - -"We none of us seem to be very sane," Mrs. Harbinger returned, laughing. -"I wonder what this particular madman will do." - -"I'm sure I can't tell," answered Fairfield absently. Then he added -quickly: "I wanted to ask you about that letter. Of course it isn't you -that's been writing to me, but you must know who it is." - -She stared at him in evident amazement, and then burst into a peal of -laughter. - -"Well," she said, "we have been mad, and no mistake. Why, we ought to -have known in the first place that you were Christopher Calumus. How in -the world could we miss it? It just shows how we are likely to overlook -the most obvious things." - -Fairfield smiled, and beat his fist on the arm of his chair. - -"There," he laughed, "I've let it out! I didn't mean to tell it." - -"What nonsense!" she said, as if not heeding. "To think that it was you -that May wrote to after all!" - -"May!" cried Fairfield. "Do you mean that Miss Calthorpe wrote those -letters?" - -The face of Mrs. Harbinger changed color, and a look of dismay came over -it. - -"Oh, you didn't know it, of course!" she said. "I forgot that, and now -I've told you. She will never forgive me." - -He leaned back in his chair, laughing gayly. - -"A Roland for an Oliver!" he cried. "Good! It is only secret for -secret." - -"But what will she say to me?" - -"Say? Why should she say anything? You needn't tell her till she's told -me. She would have told me sometime." - -"She did tell you in that wretched letter; or rather she gave you a sign -to know her by. How did you dare to write to any young girl like that?" - -The red flushed into his cheeks and his laughter died. - -"You don't mean that she showed you my letters?" - -"Oh, no; she didn't show them to me. But I know well enough what they -were like. You are a pair of young dunces." - -Fairfield cast down his eyes and studied his finger-nails in silence a -moment. When he looked up again he spoke gravely and with a new -firmness. - -"Mrs. Harbinger," he said, "I hope you don't think that I meant anything -wrong in answering her letters. I didn't know who wrote them." - -"You must have known that they were written by a girl that was young and -foolish." - -"I'm afraid I didn't think much about that. I had a letter, and it -interested me, and I answered it. It never occurred to me that--" - -"It never occurs to a man that he is bound to protect a girl against -herself," Mrs. Harbinger responded quickly. "At least now that you do -know, I hope that there'll be no more of this nonsense." - -Fairfield did not reply for a moment. Then he looked out over the -landscape instead of meeting her eyes. - -"What do you expect me to say to that?" he asked. - -"I don't know that I expect anything," she returned dryly. "Hush! They -are coming." - -He leaned forward, and spoke in a hurried whisper. - -"Does she know?" he demanded. - -"Of course not. She thinks it's the Count, for all I can tell." - -The arrival of Alice and May put an end to any further confidential -discourse. Fairfield rose hastily, looking dreadfully conscious, but as -the two girls had some interesting information or other to impart to -Mrs. Harbinger, he had an opportunity to recover himself, and in a few -moments the party was on its way to the polo-field. - -With the game this story has nothing in particular to do. It was not -unlike polo games in general. The playing was neither especially good -nor especially bad. Jack Neligage easily carried off the honors, and the -men pronounced his playing to be in remarkable form for so early in the -season. Fairfield sat next to Miss Calthorpe, but he was inclined to be -quiet, and to glance at Mrs. Harbinger when he spoke, as if he expected -her to be listening to his conversation. Now and then he fixed his -attention on the field, but when the game was over, and the clever plays -were discussed, he showed no signs of knowing anything about them. To -him the game had evidently been only an accident, and in no way a vital -part of the real business of the day. - -There was afternoon tea at the club-house,--groups chatted and laughed -on the piazza and the lawn; red coats became more abundant on the golf -links despite the lateness of the hour; carriages were brought round, -one by one took their freights of pleasure-seekers, and departed. -Fairfield still kept in the neighborhood of Miss Calthorpe, and although -he said little he looked a great deal. Mrs. Harbinger did not interfere, -although for the most part she was within ear-shot. Fairfield was of -good old family, well spoken of as a rising literary man, and May had -money enough for two, so that there were no good grounds upon which a -chaperone could have made herself disagreeable, and Mrs. Harbinger was -not in the least of the interfering sort. - -Before leaving the County Club Mrs. Harbinger had a brief talk with Mrs. -Neligage. - -"I wish you'd tell me something about the Count's past," she said. "You -knew him in Europe, didn't you?" - -"Yes, I met him in Rome one winter; and after that I saw a good deal of -him for a couple of seasons." - -"Was he received?" - -"Oh, bless you, yes. He's real. His family tree goes back to the tree in -the Garden of Eden." - -"Perhaps his ancestor then was the third person there." - -Mrs. Neligage laughed, and shook her head. - -"Come, Letty," she said, "that is taking an unfair advantage. But -really, the Count is all right. He's as poor as a church mouse, and I've -no doubt he came over here expressly to marry money. That is a foreign -nobleman's idea of being driven to honest toil,--to come to America and -hunt up an heiress." - -Mrs. Harbinger produced the letter which she had received from -Barnstable earlier in the afternoon. - -"That crazy Mr. Barnstable that made an exhibition of himself at my -house yesterday has given me a letter about the Count. I haven't read -much of it; but it's evidently an attack on the man's morals." - -"Oh, his morals," Mrs. Neligage returned with a pretty shrug; "nobody -can find fault with the Count's morals, my dear, for he hasn't any." - -"Is he so bad then?" inquired Mrs. Harbinger with a sort of -dispassionate interest. - -"Bad, bless you, no. He's neither good nor bad. He's what all his kind -are; squeamishly particular on a point of honor, and with not a moral -scruple to his name." - -Mrs. Harbinger held the letter by the corner, regarding it with little -favor. - -"I'm sure I don't want his old letter," she observed. "I'm not a -purveyor of gossip." - -"Why did he give it to you?" - -"He wanted me to read it, and then to show it to my friends. He -telegraphed to New York last night, Tom said, to find out about the -Count, and the letter must have come on the midnight." - -"Characters by telegraph," laughed Mrs. Neligage. "The times are getting -hard for adventurers and impostors. But really the Count isn't an -impostor. He'd say frankly that he brought over his title to sell." - -"That doesn't decide what I am to do with this letter," Mrs. Harbinger -remarked. "You'd better take it." - -"I'm sure I don't see what I should do with it," Mrs. Neligage returned; -but at the same time she took the epistle. "Perhaps I may be able to -make as much mischief with this as I did with that letter yesterday." - -The other looked at her with serious disfavor expressed in her face. - -"For heaven's sake," she said, "don't try that. You made mischief enough -there to last for some time." - - - - -XV - -THE MISCHIEF OF A LETTER - - -The meditations of Mrs. Neligage in the watches of the night which -followed the polo game must have been interesting, and could they be -known might afford matter for amusement and study. It must be one of the -chief sources of diversion to the Father of Evil to watch the growth in -human minds and hearts of schemes for mischief. He has the satisfaction -of seeing his own ends served, the entertainment of observing a curious -and fascinating mental process, and all the while his vanity may be -tickled by the reflection that it is he who will receive the credit for -each cunningly developed plot of iniquity. That the fiend had been -agreeably entertained on this occasion was to be inferred from the -proceedings of Mrs. Neligage next morning, when the plans of the night -were being carried into effect. - -As early in the day as calling was reasonably possible, Mrs. Neligage, -although it was Sunday, betook herself to see May Calthorpe. May, who -had neither father nor mother living, occupied the family house on -Beacon street, opposite the Common, having as companion a colorless -cousin who played propriety, and for the most part played it unseen. -The dwelling was rather a gloomy nest for so bright a bird as May. -Respectability of the most austere New England type pervaded the big -drawing-room where Mrs. Neligage was received. The heavy old furniture -was as ugly as original sin, and the pictures might have ministered to -the Puritan hatred for art. Little was changed from the days when May's -grandparents had furnished their abode according to the most approved -repulsiveness of their time. Only the brightness of the warm April sun -shining in at the windows, and a big bunch of dark red roses in a -crystal jug, lightened the formality of the stately apartment. - -When May came into the room, however, it might have seemed that she had -cunningly retained the old appointments as a setting to make more -apparent by contrast her youthful fresh beauty. With her clear color, -her dark hair, and sparkling eyes, she was the more bewitching amid this -stately, sombre furniture, and in this gloomy old lofty room. - -"My dear," Mrs. Neligage said, kissing her affectionately, "how well you -look. I was dreadfully afraid I should find you worried and unhappy." - -May returned her greeting less effusively, and seemed somewhat puzzled -at this address. - -"But why in the world should I look worried?" she asked. - -Mrs. Neligage sat down, and regarded the other impressively in silence a -moment before replying. - -"Oh, my dear child," she said dramatically, "how could you be so -imprudent?" - -May became visibly paler, and in her turn sank into a chair. - -"I don't know what you mean," she faltered. - -"If you had lived in society abroad as much as I have, May," was the -answer, delivered with an expressive shake of the head, "you would know -how dreadfully a girl compromises herself by writing to a strange -gentleman." - -May started up, her eyes dilating. - -"Oh, how did you know?" she demanded. - -"The Count thinks the most horrible things," the widow went on -mercilessly. "You know what foreigners are. It wouldn't have been so bad -if it were an American." - -Poor May put her hands together with a woeful gesture as if she were -imploring mercy. - -"Oh, is it the Count really?" she cried. "I saw that he had a red -carnation in his buttonhole yesterday, but I hoped that it was an -accident." - -"A red carnation?" repeated Mrs. Neligage. - -"Yes; that was the sign by which I was to know him. I said so in that -letter." - -It is to be doubted if the Recording Angel at that moment wrote down to -the credit of Mrs. Neligage that she regretted having by chance stuck -that flower in the Count's coat at the County Club. - -"You poor child!" she murmured with a world of sympathy in her voice. - -The touch was too much for May, who melted into tears. She was a -simple-hearted little thing or she would never have written the unlucky -letters to Christopher Calumus, and in her simplicity she had evidently -fallen instantly into the trap set for her. She dabbed resolutely at her -eyes with her handkerchief, but the fountain was too free to be so -easily stanched. - -"It will make a horrid scandal," Mrs. Neligage went on by way of -comfort. "Oh, I do hate those dreadful foreign ways of talking about -women. It used to make me so furious abroad that I wanted to kill the -men." - -May was well on the way to sobs now. - -"Such things are so hard to kill, too," pursued the widow. "Everybody -here will say there is nothing in it, but it will be repeated, and -laughed about, and it will never be forgotten. That's the worst of it. -The truth makes no difference, and it is almost impossible to live a -thing of that sort down. You've seen Laura Seaton, haven't you? Well, -that's just what ruined her life. She wrote some foolish letters, and it -was found out. It always is found out; and she's always been in a -cloud." - -Mrs. Neligage did not mention that the letters which the beclouded Miss -Seaton had written had been to a married man and with a full knowledge -on her part who her correspondent was. - -"Oh, Mrs. Neligage," sobbed May. "Do you suppose the Count will tell?" - -"My dear, he showed me the letter." - -"Oh, did he?" moaned the girl, crimson to the eyes. "Did you read it?" - -"Read it, May? Of course not!" was the answer, delivered with admirable -appearance of indignation; "but I knew the handwriting." - -May was by this time so shaken by sobs and so miserable that her -condition was pitiful. Mrs. Neligage glided to a seat beside her, and -took the girl in her arms in a fashion truly motherly. - -"There, there, May," said she soothingly. "Don't give way so. We must do -something to straighten things out." - -"Oh, do you think we could?" demanded May, looking up through her tears. -"Can't you get that letter away from him?" - -"I tried to make him give it to me, but he refused." - -It really seemed a pity that the widow was not upon the stage, so -admirably did she show sympathy in voice and manner. She caressed the -tearful maiden, and every tone was like an endearment. - -"Somebody must get that letter," she went on. "It would be fatal to -leave it in the Count's possession. He is an old hand at this sort of -thing. I knew about him abroad." - -She might have added with truth that she had herself come near marrying -him, supposing that he had a fortune to match his title, but that she -had luckily discovered his poverty in time. - -"But who can get it?" asked May, checking her tears as well as was -possible under the circumstances. - -"It must be somebody who has the right to represent you," Mrs. Neligage -responded with an air of much impressiveness. - -"Anybody may represent me," declared May. "Couldn't you do it, Mrs. -Neligage?" - -"My dear," the other answered in a voice of remonstrance, "a lady could -hardly go to a man on an errand like that. It must be a man." - -May dashed her hands together in a burst of impatience and despair. - -"Oh, I don't see what you gave it to him for," she cried in a lamentable -voice. "You might have known that I wouldn't have written it if I'd any -idea that that old thing was Christopher Calumus." - -"And I wouldn't have given it to him," returned Mrs. Neligage quietly, -"if I'd had any idea that you were capable of writing to men you didn't -know." - -May looked as if the tone in which this was said or the words themselves -had completed her demoralization. She was bewitching in her misery, her -eyes swimming divinely in tears, large and pathetic and browner than -ever, her hair ruffled in her agitation into tiny rings and pliant wisps -all about her temples, her cheeks flushed and moist. Her mouth, with its -trembling little lips, might have moved the sternest heart of man to -compassion and to the desire at least of consoling it with kisses. The -more firm and logical feminine mind of Mrs. Neligage was not, however, -by all this loveliness of woe turned away from her purpose. - -"At any rate," she went on, "the thing that can't be altered is that you -have written the letter, and that the Count has it. I do pity you -terribly, May; and I know Count Shimbowski, so I know what I'm saying. I -came in this morning to say something to you, to propose something, that -is; but I don't know how you'll take it. It is a way out of the -trouble." - -"If there's any way out," returned May fervently, "I'm sure I don't care -what it is; I'm ready for it, if it's to chop off my fingers." - -"It isn't that, my dear," Mrs. Neligage assured her with a suggestion of -a laugh, the faint suggestion of a laugh, such as was appropriate to the -direful situation only alleviated by the possibility which was to be -spoken. "The fact is there's but one thing to do. You must let Jack act -for you." - -"Oh, will he, Mrs. Neligage?" cried May, brightening at once. - -It has been noted by more than one observer of life that in times of -trouble the mere mention of a man is likely to produce upon the feminine -mind an effect notably cheering. Whether this be true, or a mere -fanciful calumny of those heartless male writers who have never been -willing to recognize that the real glory of woman lies in her being able -entirely to ignore the existence of man, need not be here discussed. It -is enough to record that at the sound of Jack's name May did undoubtedly -rouse herself from the abject and limp despair into which she was -completely collapsing. She caught at the suggestion as a trout snaps at -the fisherman's fly. - -"He will be only too glad to," said Mrs. Neligage, "if he has the -right." - -She paused and looked down, playing with the cardcase in her hands. She -made a pretty show of being puzzled how to go on, so that the most -stupid observer could not have failed to understand that there was -something of importance behind her words. May began to knit her white -forehead in an evident attempt to comprehend what further complication -there might be in the affair under discussion. - -"I must be plain," the widow said, after a slight, hesitating pause. -"What I have to say is as awkward as possible, and of course it's -unusual; but under the circumstances there's no help for it. I hope -you'll understand, May, that it's only out of care for you that I'm -willing to come here this morning and make a fool of myself." - -"I don't see how you could make a fool of yourself by helping me," May -said naively. - -The visitor smiled, and put out a trimly gloved hand to pat the fingers -of the girl as they lay on the chair-arm. - -"No, that's the truth, May. I am trying to help you, and so I needn't -mind how it sounds. Well, then; the fact is that there's one thing that -makes this all very delicate. Whoever goes to the Count must have -authority." - -"Well, I'm ready to give Jack authority." - -"But it must be the authority of a betrothed, my dear." - -"What! Oh, Mrs. Neligage!" - -May sat bolt upright and stiffened in her chair as if a wave of liquid -air had suddenly gone over her. - -"To send a man for the letters under any other circumstances would be as -compromising as the letters in the first place. Besides, the Count -wouldn't be bound to give them up except to your _fiance_." - -"That horrid Count!" broke out May with vindictive irrelevancy. "I wish -it was just a man we had to deal with!" - -"Now Jack has been in love with you for a long time, my dear," pursued -Jack's mother. - -"Jack! In love with me? Why, he's fond of Alice." - -"Oh, in a boy and girl way they've always been the best of friends. It's -nothing more. He's in love with you, I tell you. What do you young -things know about love anyway, or how to recognize it? I shouldn't tell -you this if it weren't for the circumstances; but Jack is too delicate -to speak when it might look as if he were taking advantages. He is -furious about the letter." - -"Oh, does he know too?" cried poor May. "Does everybody know?" - -Her tears began again, and now Mrs. Neligage dried them with her own -soft handkerchief, faintly scented with the especial eastern scent which -she particularly affected. Doubtless a mother may be held to know -something of the heart and the opinions of her only son, but as Jack had -not, so far as his mother had any means of knowing, in the least -connected May Calthorpe with the letter given to Count Shimbowski, it is -perhaps not unfair to conclude that her maternal eagerness and affection -had in this particular instance led her somewhat far. It is never the -way of a clever person to tell more untruths than are actually needed by -the situation, and it was perhaps by way of not increasing too rapidly -her debit account on the books of the Recording Angel that Mrs. Neligage -replied to this question of May's with an evasion,--an evasion, it is -true, which was more effective than a simple, direct falsehood would -have been. - -"Oh, May dear, you don't know the horrid way in which those foreign -rakes boast of what they call their conquests!" - -The idea of being transformed from a human, self-respecting being into a -mere conquest, the simple, ignominious spoils of the chase, might well -be too much for any girl, and May became visibly more limp under it. - -"The simple case is here," proceeded the widow, taking up again her -parable with great directness. "Jack is fond of you; he is too delicate -to speak of it, and he knows that this is a time when nobody but a -_fiance_ has a right to meddle. If you had a brother, of course it would -be different; but you haven't. Something must be done, and so I came -this morning really to beg you, for Jack's sake and your own, to consent -to an engagement." - -"Did Jack send you?" demanded May, looking straight into the other's -eyes. - -Mrs. Neligage met the gaze fairly, yet there was a little hesitation in -her reply. It might be that she considered whether the risk were greater -in telling the truth or in telling a lie; but in the end it was the -truth that she began with. Before she had got half through her sentence -she had distorted it out of all recognition, indeed, but it is always an -advantage to begin with what is true. It lends to any subsequent -falsifying a moral support which is of inestimable value. - -"He knows nothing of it at all," she confessed. "He is too proud to let -anybody speak for him, just as under the circumstances he is too proud -to speak for himself. Besides, he is poor, and all your friends would -say he was after your money. No, nothing would induce him to speak for -himself. He is very unhappy about it all; but he feels far worse for you -than for himself. Dear Jack! He is the most generous fellow in the -world." - -"Poor Jack!" May murmured softly. - -"Poor Jack!" the widow echoed, with a deep-drawn sigh. "It frightens me -so to think what might happen if he hears the Count boasting in his -insolent way. Foreigners always boast of their conquests! Why, May, -there's no knowing what he might do! And the scandal of it for you! And -what should I do if anything happened to Jack?" - -Perhaps an appeal most surely touches the feminine heart if it be a -little incoherent. A pedant might have objected that Mrs. Neligage in -this brief speech altered the point of view with reckless frequency, -but the pedant would by the effect have been proved to be wrong. The -jumble of possibilities and of consequences, of woe to Jack, harm to -May, and of general inconsolability on the part of the mother finished -the conquest of the girl completely. She was henceforth only eager to do -whatever Mrs. Neligage directed, and under the instigation of her astute -counsellor wrote a note to the young man, accepting a proposal which he -had never heard of, and imploring him as her accepted lover to rescue -from the hands of Count Shimbowski the letter addressed to Christopher -Calumus. It is not every orator, even among the greatest, who can boast -of having achieved a triumph so speedy and so complete as that which -gladdened the heart of Mrs. Neligage when, after consoling and cheering -her promised daughter-in-law, she set out to find her son. - - - - -XVI - -THE DUTY OF A SON - - -Simple were this world if it were governed by frankness, albeit -perchance in some slight particulars less interesting. Certainly if -straightforwardness ruled life, Mrs. Neligage would have fared -differently in her efforts that morning. She would have had no -opportunity in that case of displaying her remarkable astuteness, and -she would have left the life-threads of divers young folk to run more -smoothly. Knots and tangles in the lives of mortals are oftener -introduced by their fellows than by the unkindly fingers of the Fates, -although the blame must be borne by the weird sisters. The three might -well stand aghast that forenoon to see the deftness with which Mrs. -Neligage wrought her mischief. A fisherman with his netting-needle and a -kitten playing with the twine together produce less complication of the -threads than the widow that day brought about by the unaided power of -her wits. - -Jack Neligage had chambers with Fairfield in a semi-fashionable -apartment-house. Both the young men had a certain position to maintain, -and neither was blessed with means sufficient to do it without much -stretching. Fairfield was industrious and Neligage was idle, which in -the end was more favorable to the reputation of the former and to the -enjoyment of the latter. Jack fared the better in material things, -because the man who is willing to run into debt may generally live more -expensively than he who strives to add to an inadequate income by the -fruit of his toil. - -On this particular morning Dick had gone to church in the vain hope of -seeing May Calthorpe, while Jack was found by his mother smoking a -cigarette over the morning paper. He had just finished his late -breakfast, and opened his letters. The letters lay on the uncleared -breakfast table in various piles. The largest heap was one made of bills -torn to bits. Jack made it a matter of principle to tear up his bills as -soon as they came. It saved trouble, and was, he said, a business-like -habit. The second heap was composed of invitations to be answered; while -advertisements and personal letters made the others. Jack received his -mother with his usual joyous manner. It had been said of him that his -continual good nature was better than an income to him. It certainly -made him a favorite, it procured for him many an invitation, and it had -even the effect of softening the hard heart of many a creditor. He was -in appearance no less cheerful this morning for his talk with Wilson at -the County Club or for the mysterious hints of ill which his mother had -given him. It was all confoundedly awkward, he had commented to -Fairfield before retiring on the previous night, but hang it, what good -would it do to fret about it? - -"Good-morning, mater," he greeted her. "You must have something mighty -important on your mind to come flying round here at this time in the -day." - -"I have," she said, "and I want you to try for once in your life to take -things seriously." - -"Seriously!" was his answer. "Don't I always take things seriously? Or -if I don't, it can't be in me, for I'm sure I have enough to make me -serious. Look at that pile of bills there." - -Mrs. Neligage walked to the table, inspected first the invitations, -which she looked over with truly feminine attention, and then began to -pick up pieces of the torn-up bills. - -"How in the world, Jack, do you ever know what you owe?" she asked. - -"Know what I owe? Gad! I wouldn't know that for the world. Sit down, and -tell me what disagreeable thing brought you here." - -"Why is it necessarily disagreeable?" she demanded, seating herself -beside the table, and playing with the torn paper. - -"You said yesterday that you were in a mess." - -"Yes," she replied slowly; "but that was yesterday." - -"Does that mean that you are out of it? So much the better." - -Mrs. Neligage clasped her hands in her lap, and regarded her son with a -strong and eager look. - -"Jack," she began, "I want you to listen to me, and not interrupt. You -must hear the whole thing before you begin to put in your word. In the -first place, you are engaged to May Calthorpe." - -The exclamation and the laugh which greeted this piece of information -were so nearly simultaneous that Jack might be given the benefit of the -doubt and so evade the charge of swearing before a lady. - -"Why in the world, mother," he said, "must you come harping on that -string again? You know it's of no use." - -"You are engaged now, Jack, and of course that makes a difference." - -"Oh, bother! Do speak sensibly. What are you driving at?" - -The widow regarded him with a serene face, and settled herself more -comfortably in her chair. - -"I came to congratulate you on your engagement to Miss May Calthorpe," -she said, with all possible coolness and distinctness. - -"Indeed? Then I am sorry to tell you that you have wasted your labor. I -haven't even seen May since we left the County Club yesterday." - -"Oh, I knew that." - -"What in the world are you driving at, mother? Perhaps you don't mind -telling me who told you of the engagement." - -"Oh, not in the least. May told me." - -"May Calthorpe!" - -It was not strange that Jack should receive the announcement with -surprise, but it was evident that there was in his mind more -bewilderment. He stared at his mother without further word, while she -pulled off her gloves and loosened her coat as if to prepare herself for -the explanation which it was evident must follow. - -"Come, Jack," she remarked, when she had adjusted these preliminaries, -"we may as well be clear about this. I made an offer in your name to -May, and she has accepted it." - -Jack rose from his seat, and stood over her, his sunny face growing -pale. - -"You made an offer in my name?" he demanded. - -"Sit down," she commanded, waving her hand toward his chair. "There is a -good deal to be said, and you'll be tired of standing before I tell it -all. Is there any danger that Mr. Fairfield may come in?" - -Jack walked over to the door and slipped the catch. - -"He is not likely to come," he said, "but it's sure now. Fire away." - -He spoke with a seriousness which he used seldom. There were times when -lazy, good-tempered Jack Neligage took a stubborn fit, and those who -knew him well did not often venture to cross him in those moods. The -proverb about the wrath of a patient man had sometimes been applied to -him. When these rare occasions came on which his temper gave way he -became unusually calm and self-possessed, as he was now. It could not -but have been evident to his mother that she had to do with her son in -one of the worst of his rare rages. Perhaps the vexations of the -previous days, the pile of torn bills on the table, the icy greeting -Alice Endicott had given him yesterday, all had to do with the sudden -outbreak of his anger, but any man might have been excused for being -displeased by such an announcement as had just been made to Jack. - -"I'm not going into your financial affairs, Jack," Mrs. Neligage -remarked, with entire self-possession, "only that they count, of -course." - -"I know enough about them," he said curtly. "We'll take them for -granted." - -"Very well then--we will talk about mine. You've hinted once or twice -that you didn't like the way I flirted with Sibley Langdon. I owe him -six thousand dollars." - -If the widow had been planning a theatrical effect in her coolly -pronounced words, she had no reason to be disappointed at the result. -Jack started to his feet with an oath, and glared at her with angry -eyes. - -"More than that," she went on boldly, though she cast down her glance -before his, "the money was to save me from the consequences of--" - -Her voice faltered and the word died on her lips. Jack stood as if -frozen, staring with a hard face and lips tightly shut. - -"Oh, Jack," she burst out, "why do you make me shame myself! Why can't -you understand? I'm no good, Jack; but I'm your mother." - -Actual tears were in her eyes, and her breath was coming quickly. It is -always peculiarly hard to see a self-contained, worldly woman lose -control of herself. The strength of emotion which is needed to shake -such a nature is instinctively appreciated by the spectator, and affects -him with a pain that is almost too cruel to be borne. Jack Neligage, -however, showed no sign of softening. - -"You must tell me the whole now," he said in a hard voice. - -The masculine instinct of asserting the right to judge a woman was in -his tone. She wiped away her tears, and choked back her sobs. A little -tremor ran over her, and then she began again, speaking in a voice lower -than before, but firmly held in restraint. - -"It was at Monte Carlo five years ago," she said. "I was there alone, -and the Countess Marchetti came. I'd known her a little for years, and -we got to be very intimate. You know how it is with two women at a -hotel. I'd been playing a little, just to keep myself from dying of -dullness. Count Shimbowski was there, and he made love to me as long as -he thought I had money, but he fled when I told him I hadn't. Well, one -day the countess had a telegram that her husband had been hurt in -hunting. She had just half an hour to get to the train, and she took her -maid and went. Of course she hadn't time to have things packed, and she -left everything in my care. Just at the last minute she came rushing in -with a jewel-case. Her maid had contrived to leave it out, and she -wouldn't take it. The devil planned it, of course. I told her to take -it, but she wouldn't, and she didn't; and I played, and I lost, and I -was desperate, and I pawned her diamond necklace for thirty thousand -francs." - -"And of course you lost that," Jack said in a hard voice, as she paused. - -"Oh, Jack, don't speak to me like that! I was mad! I know it! The worst -thing about the whole devilish business was the way I lost my head. I -look back at it now, and wonder if I'm ever safe. It makes me afraid; -and I never was afraid of anything else in my life. I'm not a 'fraid-cat -woman!" - -He gave no sign of softening, none of sympathy, but still sat with the -air of a judge, cold and inexorable. - -"What has all this to do with Sibley Langdon?" he asked. - -"He came there just when the countess sent for her things. I was wild, -and I went all to pieces at the sight of a home face. It was like a -plank to a shipwrecked fool, I suppose. I broke down and told him the -whole thing, and he gave me the money to redeem the necklace. He was -awfully kind, Jack. I hate him--but he was kind. I really think I should -have killed myself if he hadn't helped me." - -"And you have never paid him?" - -"How could I pay him? I've been on the ragged edge of the poorhouse ever -since. I don't know if the poorhouse has a ragged edge," she added, with -something desperately akin to a smile, "but if it has edges of course -they must be ragged." - -Few persons have ever made a confession, no matter how woeful the -circumstances, without some sense of relief at having spoken out the -thing which was festering in the secret heart. Shame and bitter -contrition may overwhelm this feeling, but they do not entirely destroy -it. Mrs. Neligage would hardly have been likely ever to tell her story -save under stress of bitter necessity, but there was an air which showed -that the revelation had given her comfort. - -"Has he ever spoken of it?" asked Jack, unmoved by her attempted -lightness. - -"Never directly, and never until recently has he hinted. Jack," she -said, her color rising, "he is a bad man!" - -He did not speak, but his eyes plainly demanded more. - -"The other day,--Jack, I've known for a long time that it was coming. -I've hated him for it, but I didn't know what to do. It was partly for -that that I went to Washington." - -"Well?" - -Mrs. Neligage was not that day playing a part which was entirely to be -commended by the strict moralist. Certainly in her interview with May -she had left much to be desired on the score of truthfulness and -consideration for others. Hard must be the heart, however, which might -not have been touched by the severity of the ordeal which she was now -undergoing. Jack's clear brown eyes dominated hers with all the force of -the man and the judge, while hers in vain sought to soften them; and the -pathos of it was that it was the son judging the mother. - -"I give you my word, Jack," she said, leaning toward him and speaking -with deep earnestness, "that he has never said a word to me that you -might not have heard. Silly compliments, of course, and fool things -about his wife's not being to his taste; but nothing worse. Only now--" - -Ruthless is man toward woman who may have violated the proprieties, but -cruel is the son toward his mother if she may have dimmed the honor -which is his as well as hers. - -"Now?" he repeated inflexibly. - -"Now he has hinted, he has hardly said it, Jack, but he means for me to -join him in Europe this summer." - -The red leaped into Jack's face and the blaze into his eyes. He rose -deliberately from his chair, and stood tall before her. - -"Are you sure he meant it?" he asked. - -"He put in nasty allusions to the countess, and--Oh, he did mean it, -Jack; and it frightened me as I have never been frightened in my life." - -"I will horsewhip him in the street!" - -She sprang up, and caught him by the arm. - -"For heaven's sake, Jack, think of the scandal! I'd have told you long -ago, but I was afraid you'd make a row that would be talked about. When -I came home from Europe, and realized that all my property is in the -hands of trustees so that I couldn't pay, I wanted to tell you; but I -didn't know what you'd do. I'm afraid of you when your temper's really -up." - -He freed himself from her clasp and began to pace up and down, while -she watched him in silence. Suddenly he turned to her. - -"But this was only part of it," he said. "What was that stuff you were -talking about my being engaged?" - -She held out to him the note that May had written, and when he had read -it explained as well as she could the scene which had taken place -between her and May. She did not, it is true, present an account which -was without variations from the literal facts, but no mortal could be -expected to do that. She at least made it clear that she had bargained -with the girl that the letter should be the price of an engagement. Jack -heard her through, now and then putting in a curt question. When he had -heard it all, he laughed angrily, and threw the letter on the floor. - -"You have brought me into it too," he said. "We are a pair of -unprincipled adventurers together. I've been more or less of a beat, but -I've never before been a good, thorough-paced blackguard!" - -She flashed upon him in an outburst of anger in her turn. - -"Do you mean that for me?" she demanded. "The word isn't so badly -applied to a man that can talk so to his mother! Haven't I been saving -you as well as myself? As to May, any girl will love a husband that has -character enough to manage her and be kind to her." - -He was silent a moment, and when he spoke he waived the point. - -"Do I understand," he said, "that you expect me to go to Count -Shimbowski and announce myself as May's representative, and demand her -letter?" - -"Not at all," she answered, a droll expression of craftiness coming over -her face. "Sit down, and let me tell you." - -She resumed her own seat, and Jack, after whirling his chair around -angrily, sat down astride of it, with his arms crossed on the back. - -"There are letters and letters," Mrs. Neligage observed with a smile. -"When Mrs. Harbinger gave me this one last night I began to see that it -might be good for something. You are to exchange this with the Count. -You needn't mention May's name." - -Jack took the letter, and looked at it. - -"This is to Barnstable," he said. - -"Yes; he gave it to Letty to be shown to people. Barnstable is the -silliest fool that there is about." - -"And you think the Count would give up that letter for this?" - -"I am sure he would if he thought there was any possibility that this -might fall into the hands of Miss Wentstile." - -"If it would send the damned adventurer about his business," growled -Jack, "I'd give it to Miss Wentstile myself." - -"Oh, don't bother about that. I can stop that affair any time," his -mother responded lightly. "I've only to tell Sarah Wentstile what I've -seen myself, and that ends his business with her." - -"Then you'd better do it, and stop his tormenting Alice." - -"I'll do anything you like, Jack, if you'll be nice about May." - -He got up from his seat and walked back and forth a few turns, his head -bowed, and his manner that of deep thought. Then he went to his desk and -wrote a couple of notes. He read them over carefully, and filled out a -check. He lit a cigarette, and sat pondering over the notes for some -moments. At last he brought them both to his mother, who had sat -watching him intently, although she had turned her face half away from -him. Jack put the letters into her hand without a word. - -The first note was as follows:-- - - DEAR MAY,--My mother has just brought me your note, and I am going - out at once to find the Count. I hope to bring you the letter - before night. I need not tell you that I am very proud of the - confidence you have shown in me and of the honor you do me. Until I - see you it will, it seems to me, be better that you do not speak of - our engagement. - - Very sincerely yours, - - JOHN T. NELIGAGE. - -The second note was this:-- - - SIBLEY LANGDON, ESQ. - - _Sir_,--I have just heard from my mother that she is indebted to - you for a loan of $6000. I inclose check for that amount with - interest at four per cent. As Mrs. Neligage has doubtless expressed - her gratitude for your kindness I do not know that it is necessary - for me to add anything. - - JOHN T. NELIGAGE. - -"You are right, of course," he said. "I can't show him that I know his -beastly scheme without a scandal that would hurt you. He'll understand, -though. But why in the world you've let him browbeat you into receiving -his attentions I cannot see." - -"I felt so helpless, Jack. I didn't know what he would do; and he could -tell about the necklace, you see. He's been a millstone round my neck. -He's never willing I should do anything with anybody but himself." - -Jack ground his teeth, and held out his hand for the letters. - -"But, Jack," Mrs. Neligage cried, as if the thought had just struck her. -"You can't have $6000 in the bank." - -"I shall have when he gets that check," Jack returned grimly. "If father -hadn't put all our money into the hands of trustees--" - -"We should neither of us have anything whatever," his mother -interrupted, laughing. "It is bad enough as it is, but it would have -been worse if we'd had our hands free." - -Her spirits were evidently once more high; she seemed to have cast off -fear and care alike. - -"Well," she said, rising, "I must go home. You want to go and find the -Count, of course." - -She went up to her son, and put her hands on his shoulders. - -"Dear boy," she said, "I'm not really so bad as I seem. I was a fool to -gamble, but I never did anything else that was very bad. Oh, you don't -know what a weight it is off my shoulders to have that note paid. Of -course it will be hard on you just now, but we must hurry on the -marriage with May, and then you'll have money enough." - -He smiled down on her with a look in which despite its scrutiny there -was a good deal of fondness. Worldly as the Neligages were, there was -still a strong bond of affection between them. - -"All right, old lady," he said, stooping forward to kiss her forehead. -"I'm awfully sorry you've had such a hard time, but you're out of it -now. Only there's one thing I insist on. You are to tell nobody of the -engagement till I give you leave." - -She studied his face keenly. - -"If I don't announce it," she said frankly, "I'm afraid you'll squirm -out of it." - -He laughed buoyantly. - -"You are a born diplomat," he told her. "What sort of a concession do -you want to make you hold your tongue?" - -"Jack," she said pleadingly, changing her voice into earnestness, "won't -you marry May? If you only knew how I want you to be rich and taken care -of." - -"Mr. Frostwinch has offered me a place in the bank, mater, with a salary -that's about as much as I've paid for the board of one of my ponies." - -"What could you do on a salary like that? You won't break the engagement -when you see May this afternoon, will you? Promise me that." - -"She may break it herself." - -"She won't unless you make her. Promise me, Jack." - -He smiled down into her face as if a sudden thought had come to him, and -a gleam of mischief lighted his brown eyes. - -"The engagement, such as it is," he returned, "may stand at present as -you've fixed it, if you'll give me your word not to mention it or to -meddle with it." - -"I promise," she said rapturously, and pulled him down to kiss him -fervently before departing. - -Then in the conscious virtue of having achieved great things Mrs. -Neligage betook herself home to dress for a luncheon. - - - - -XVII - -THE BUSINESS OF A LOVER - - -Jack's first care, after his mother had left him, was to dispatch a -messenger to May with his note. - -Then he set out in search of Dr. Wilson. After a little hunting he -discovered the latter lunching at the club. Jack came straight to his -business without any beating about the bush. - -"Wilson," he said, "I've come on an extraordinary errand. I want you to -lend me $6000 on the spot." - -The other whistled, and then chuckled as was his good-humored wont. - -"That's a good round sum," he answered. - -"I know that a deuced sight better than you do," Neligage returned. -"I've had more experience in wanting money. I'm in a hole, and I ask you -to help me out of it. Of course I'm taking a deal of advantage of your -good nature yesterday; and you may do as you like about letting me have -the money. All the security I can give is to turn over to you the income -of the few stocks I have. They 're all in the hands of trustees. My -father left'em so." - -"Gad, he knew his son," was the characteristic comment. - -"You are right. He did. Can you let me have the money?" - -The other considered a moment, and then said with his usual bluntness:-- - -"I suppose it's none of my business what you want of it?" - -Jack flushed. - -"It may be your business, Wilson, but I can't tell you." - -The other laughed. - -"Oh, well," he said, "if you've been so big a fool that you can't bear -to tell of it, I'm not going to insist. I can't do anything better than -to send you a check to-morrow. I haven't that amount in the bank." - -Jack held out his hand. - -"You're a trump, Wilson," he said. "I'd tell you the whole thing if it -was my secret, but it isn't. Of course if you lose anything by moving -the money, I'll be responsible for it. Besides that I want you to buy -Starbright, if you care for him. Of course if you don't I can sell him -easily enough. He's the best of the ponies." - -"Then you're going to sell?" - -"Clean out the whole thing; pay my debts, and leave the club." - -"Oh, you mustn't do that." - -"I'm going into a bank, and of course I shan't have any time to play." - -Wilson regarded him with an amused and curious smile, playing with his -fork meanwhile. Wilson was not by birth of Jack's world, having come -into social position in Boston by his marriage with Elsie Dimmont, the -richest young woman of the town. He and Jack had never been especially -intimate, but Jack had always maintained that despite traces of -coarseness in manner Wilson was sound at heart and essentially a good -fellow. Perhaps the fact that in times past Neligage had not used his -opportunities to patronize Wilson had something to do with the absence -of anything patronizing in the Doctor's manner now. - -"Well," Wilson said at length, "don't do anything rash. Your dues for -the whole year are paid,--or will be when you square up, and you might -as well get the worth of them. We need you on the team, so you mustn't -go back on us if you can help it." - -Matters being satisfactorily arranged both in relation to the loan and -to the sale of the pony, Jack left Wilson, and departed in search of -Count Shimbowski. Him he ultimately found at another club, and at once -asked to speak with him alone on business. - -"Count," he began when they were in one of the card-rooms, "I want to -add a word to what I said to you yesterday." - -"Each one word of Mr. Neleegaze eet ees treasured," the Count responded -with a polite flourish of his cigarette. - -"Since you wouldn't give me that letter," pursued Jack, acknowledging -the compliment with a grin and a bow, "perhaps you'll be willing to -exchange it." - -"Exchange eet?" repeated the Hungarian. "For what weell eet be -exchange'?" - -Jack produced Barnstable's letter. - -"I thought that you'd perhaps be willing to exchange it for this letter -that's otherwise to be read and passed about. I fancy that the person -who got it had Miss Wentstile particularly in mind as likely to be -interested in it." - -The touch showed Jack to be not without some of the astuteness of his -mother. - -"What weell eet be?" inquired the Count. - -"I haven't read it," answered Jack, slowly drawing it from the envelope. -"It is said to contain a full account of the life of Count Shimbowski." - -"_Sacre!_" - -"Exactly," acquiesced Jack. "It's a devilish shame that things can't be -forgotten when they're done. I've found that out myself." - -"But what weell be weetheen dat lettaire?" - -Jack ran his eye down a page. - -"This seems to be an account of a duel at Monaco," he returned. "On the -next page--" - -The Count stretched out his hand in protest. - -"Eet ees not needed dat you eet to read," he said. "Eet ees leeklie -lees." - -"Oh, very likely it is lies. No story about a fellow is ever told right; -but the worst things always get believed; and Miss Wentstile is very -particular. She's deucedly down on me for a lot of things that never -happened." - -"Oh, but she ees extr'ordeenaire particle!" exclaimed the Count, with a -shrug and a profane expletive. "She does not allow dat money be play -for de card, she have say eet to me. She ees most extr'ordeenaire -particle!" - -"Then I am probably right, Count, in thinking you wouldn't care to have -her read this letter?" - -The Count twisted his silky mustache, looking both angry and rather -foolish. - -"Eet ees not dat eet ees mooch dat I have done," he explained. "You know -what eet ees de leefe. A man leeves one way. But she, she ees so -particle damned!" - -Jack burst into a laugh that for the moment threatened to destroy the -gravity with which he was conducting the interview; but he controlled -his face, and went on. - -"Since she is so damned particular," said he, "don't you think you'd -better let me have the other letter for this? Of course I hate to drive -you to a bargain, but I must have that other letter. I don't mind -telling you that I'm sent after it by the one who wrote it." - -"Den you weell know who have wrote eet?" - -"Yes, of course I know, but I'm not going to tell." - -The Count considered for a moment, and then slowly drew out the letter -addressed to Christopher Calumus. He looked at it wistfully, with the -air of a man who is reluctantly abandoning the clue to an adventure -which might have proved enchanting. - -"But eet weell look what I was one great villaine dat fear," he said. - -"Nonsense," returned Neligage, holding out the letter of Barnstable for -exchange. "We know both sides of the business. All there is to it is -that we both understand what a crochety old maid Miss Wentstile is." - -Count Shimbowski smiled, and the exchange was effected. Jack turned -May's letter over in his hand, and found it unopened. - -"You're a gentleman, Count," he said, offering his hand. - -"Of de course," the other replied, with an air of some surprise. "I am -one Shimbowski." - -"Well, I'm obliged to you," observed Jack, putting the letter in his -pocket. "I'll try to keep gossip still." - -"Oh, eet ees very leek," Shimbowski returned, waving his hand airily, -"dat when I have read heem I geeve eet to Mees Wentsteele for one's -self. Eet ees very leekly." - -"All right," Jack laughed. "I'd like to see her read it. So long." - -With the vigor which belongs to an indolent man thoroughly aroused, Jack -hunted up Tom Harbinger before the day was done, and sold to him his -second best pony. Then he went for a drive, and afterward dined at the -club with an appetite which spoke a conscience at ease or not allowed to -make itself heard. He did not take the time for reflection which might -have been felt necessary by many men in preparation for the interview -with May Calthorpe which must come before bedtime. Indeed he was more -than usually lively and busy, and as he had a playful wit, he had some -difficulty in getting the men at the club to let him go when soon after -eight in the evening he set out for May's. He had kept busy from the -moment his mother had left him in the morning, and on his way along -Beacon street, he hummed to himself as if still resolved to do anything -rather than to meditate. - -May came into the sombre drawing-room looking more bewitchingly pretty -and shy than can be told in sober prose. She was evidently frightened, -and as she came forward to give her hand to Neligage the color came and -went in her cheeks as if she were tremblingly afraid of the -possibilities of his greeting. Jack's smile was as sunny as ever when he -stepped forward to take her hand. He simply grasped it and let it go, a -consideration at which she was visibly relieved. - -"Well, May," Jack said laughingly, "I understand that we are engaged." - -"Yes," she returned faintly. "Won't you sit down?" - -She indicated a chair not very near to that upon which she took her own -seat, and Jack coolly accepted the invitation, improving on it somewhat -by drawing his chair closer to hers. - -"I got the letter from the Count," he went on. - -She held out her hand for it in silence. He took the letter from his -pocket, and held it as he spoke again, tapping it on his knee by way of -emphasis. - -"Before I give it to you, May," he remarked in a voice more serious than -he was accustomed to use, "I want you to promise me that you will never -do such a thing again as to write to a stranger. You are well out of -this--" - -She lifted her eyes with a quick look of fear in them, as if it had -flashed into her mind that if she were out of the trouble over the -letter she had escaped this peril only to be ensnared into an engagement -with him. The thought was so plain that Jack burst into a laugh. - -"You think that being engaged to me isn't being well out of anything, I -see," he observed merrily and mercilessly; "but there might be worse -things than that even. We shall see. You'll be awfully fond of me before -we are through with this." - -The poor girl turned crimson at this plain reading of her thought. She -was but half a dozen years younger than Jack, but he had belonged to an -older set than hers, and under thirty half a dozen years seems more of a -difference in ages than appears a score later in life. It was not to be -expected that she would be talkative in this strange predicament in -which she found herself, but what little command she had of her tongue -might well vanish if Jack was to read her thoughts in her face. She -rallied her forces to answer him. - -"I know that for doing so foolish a thing," she said, "I deserved -whatever I get." - -"Even if it's being engaged to me," responded he with a roar. "Well, to -be honest, I think you do. I don't know what the Count might have done -if he had read the letter, but--" - -"Oh," cried May, clasping her hands with a burst of sunshine in her -face, "didn't he read it? Oh, I'm so glad!" - -"No," Jack answered, "the Count's too much of a gentleman to read -another man's letters when he hasn't been given leave. But what have you -to say about my reading this letter?" - -"Oh, you can't have read it!" May cried breathlessly. - -"Not yet; but as we are engaged of course you give me leave to read it -now." - -She looked for a moment into his laughing eyes, and then sprang up from -her chair with a sudden burst of excitement. - -"Oh, you are too cruel!" she cried. "I hate you!" - -"Come," he said, not rising, but settling himself back in his chair with -a pose of admiring interest, "now we are getting down to nature. Have -you ever played in amateur theatricals, May?" - -She stood struck silent by the laughing banter of his tone, but she made -no answer. - -"Because, if you ever do," he continued in the same voice, "you'll do -well to remember the way you spoke then. It'll be very fetching in a -play." - -The color faded in her cheeks, and her whole manner changed from -defiance to humiliation; her lip quivered with quick emotion, and an -almost childish expression of woe made pathetic her mobile face. She -dropped back into her chair, and the tears started in her eyes. - -"Oh, I don't think you've any right to tease me," she quavered in a -voice that had almost escaped from control. "I'm sure I feel bad enough -about it." - -Jack's face sobered a little, although the mocking light of humor did -not entirely vanish from his eyes. - -"There, there," he said in a soothing voice; "don't cry, May, whatever -you do. The modern husband hates tears, but instead of giving in to -them, he gets cross and clears out. Don't cry before the man you marry, -or," he added, a fresh smile lighting his face, "even before the man you -are engaged to." - -"I didn't mean to be so foolish," May responded, choking down her -rebellious emotions. "I'm all upset." - -"I don't wonder. Now to go back to this letter. Of course I shouldn't -think of reading it without your leave, but I supposed you'd think it -proper under the circumstances to tell me to read it. I thought you'd -say: 'Dearest, I have no secrets from thee! Read!' or something of that -sort, you know." - -He was perhaps playing now to cheer May up, for he delivered this in a -mock-heroic style, with an absurd gesture. At least the effect was to -evoke a laugh which came tear-sparkling as a lark flies dew-besprent -from a hawthorn bush at morn. - -She rallied a little, and spoke with more self-command. - -"Oh, that was the secret of a girl that wasn't engaged to you," she -said, "and had no idea of being; no more," she added, dimpling, "than I -had." - -Jack showed his white teeth in what his friends called his "appreciative -grin." - -"Perhaps you're right," he returned. "By the way, do you know who -Christopher Calumus really is?" - -She colored again, and hung her head. - -"Yes," she murmured, in a voice absurdly low. "Mrs. Harbinger told me -last night. He told her yesterday at the County Club." - -"Does he know who wrote to him?" - -Her cheeks became deeper in hue, and her voice even lower yet. - -"Yes, he found out from Mrs. Harbinger." - -"Well, I must say I thought that Letty Harbinger had more sense!" - -"She didn't mean to tell him." - -"No woman ever meant to tell anything," he retorted in good-humored -sarcasm; "but they always do tell everything. Then if you and Dick both -know all about it, perhaps I had better give the letter to him." - -He offered to put the letter into his pocket, but she held out her hand -for it beseechingly. - -"Oh, don't give it to anybody else," she begged. "Let me put it into the -fire, and be through with it. It's done mischief enough!" - -"It may have done some good too," he said enigmatically. "I hope nothing -worse will ever happen to you, May, than to be engaged to me. I give you -my word that, as little as you imagine it, it's your interest and not my -own I'm looking after. However, that's neither here nor there." - -He put the letter into his pocket without farther comment, disregarding -her imploring look. Then he rose, and held out his hand. - -"Good-night," he said. "Some accepted lovers would ask for a kiss, but -I'll wait till you want to kiss me. You will some time. Good-night. -You'll remember what I wrote you about mentioning our engagement." - -She had at the mention of kisses become more celestial rosy red than in -the whole course of that blushful interview, but at his last word her -color faded as quickly as it had come. - -"Oh, I am so sorry," she said, "I had told one person before your note -came. She won't tell though." - -"Being a 'she,'" he retorted mockingly. - -"Oh, it was only Alice," May explained, "and of course she can be -trusted." - -It was his turn to become serious, and in the cloud on his sunny face -there was not a little vexation. - -"Good heavens!" he exclaimed. "Of all the women in Boston why must you -pick out the one that I was most particular shouldn't know! You girls -have an instinct for mischief." - -"But I wrote to her as soon as your note came; besides, she has promised -not to say anything. She won't tell." - -"No; she won't tell," he echoed moodily. "What did she say?" - -May cast down her eyes in evident embarrassment. - -"Oh, it's no matter," Jack went on. "She wouldn't say half as hard -things as she must think. However, it's all one in the end. Good-night." - -With this abrupt farewell he left his betrothed, and went hastily out -into the spring night, with its velvety darkness and abundant stars. The -mention of Alice Endicott had robbed him of the gay spirits in which he -had carried on his odd interview with May. The teasing jollity of manner -was gone as he walked thoughtfully back to his chambers. - -He found Fairfield in their common parlor. - -"Dick," he said without preface, "congratulate me. I'm engaged." - -"Engaged!" exclaimed the other, jumping up and extending his hand. -"Congratulations, old fellow. Of course it's Alice Endicott." - -"No," his friend responded coolly; "it's May Calthorpe." - -"What!" cried Fairfield, starting back and dropping his hand before -Neligage had time to take it. "Miss Calthorpe? What do you mean?" - -"Just as I say, my boy. The engagement is a secret at present, you -understand. I thought you'd like to know it, though; and by the way, -it'll show that I've perfect confidence in you if I turn over to you the -letter that May wrote to you before we were engaged. That one to -Christopher Calumus, you know." - -"But," stammered his chum, apparently trying to collect his wits, -scattered by the unexpected news and this strange proposition, "how can -you tell what's in it?" - -"Tell what's in it, my boy? It isn't any of my business. That has to do -with a part of her life that doesn't belong to me, you know. It's enough -for me that she wrote the letter for you to have, and so here it is." - -He put the envelope into the hands of Dick, who received it as if he -were a post-box on the corner, having no choice but to take any missive -thrust at him. - -"Good-night," Jack said. "I'm played out, and mean to turn in. Thanks -for your good wishes." - -And he ended that eventful day, so far as the world of men could have -cognizance, by retiring to his own room. - - - - -XVIII - -THE MISCHIEF OF MEN - - -Barnstable seemed bound to behave like a bee in a bottle, which goes -bumping its idiotic head without reason or cessation. On Monday morning -after the polo game he was ushered into the chambers of Jack and Dick, -both of whom were at home. He looked more excited than on the previous -day, and moved with more alacrity. The alteration was not entirely to -his advantage, for Mr. Barnstable was one of those unfortunates who -appear worse with every possible change of manner. - -"Good-morning, Mr. Fairfield," was the visitor's greeting. "Damme if -I'll say good-morning to you, Mr. Neligage." - -Jack regarded him with languid astonishment. - -"Well," he said, "that relieves me of the trouble of saying it to you." - -Barnstable puffed and swelled with anger. - -"Damme, sir," he cried, "you may try to carry it off that way, but--" - -"Good heavens, Mr. Barnstable," interrupted Fairfield, "what in the -world do you mean?" - -"Is it your general custom," drawled Jack, between puffs of his -cigarette, "to give a Wild West show at every house you go into?" - -Dick flashed a smile at his chum, but shook his head. - -"Come, Mr. Barnstable," he said soothingly, "you can't go about making -scenes in this way. Sit down, and if you've anything to say, say it -quietly." - -Mr. Barnstable, however, was not to be beguiled with words. He had -evidently been brooding over wrongs, real or fancied, until his temper -had got beyond control. - -"Anything to say?" he repeated angrily,--"I've this to say: that he has -insulted my wife. I'll sue you for libel, damme! I've a great mind to -thrash you!" - -Jack grinned down on the truculent Barnstable from his superior height. -Barnstable stood with his short legs well apart, as if he had to brace -them to bear up the enormous weight of his anger; Jack, careless, -laughing, and elegant, leaned his elbow on the mantle and smoked. - -"There, Mr. Barnstable," Fairfield said, coming to him and taking him by -the arm; "you evidently don't know what you're saying. Of course there's -some mistake. Mr. Neligage never insulted a lady." - -"But he has done it," persisted Barnstable. "He has done it, Mr. -Fairfield. Have you read 'Love in a Cloud'?" - -"'Love in a Cloud'?" repeated Dick in manifest astonishment. - -"You must know the book, Dick," put in Jack wickedly. "It's that -rubbishy anonymous novel that's made so much talk lately. It's about a -woman whose husband's temper was incompatible." - -"It's about my wife!" cried Barnstable. "What right had you to put my -wife in a book?" - -"Pardon me," Neligage asked with the utmost suavity, "but is it proper -to ask if it was your temper that was incompatible?" - -"Shut up, Jack," said Dick hastily. "You are entirely off the track, Mr. -Barnstable. Neligage didn't write 'Love in a Cloud.'" - -"Didn't write it?" stammered the visitor. - -"I give you my word he didn't." - -Barnstable looked about with an air of helplessness which was as funny -as his anger had been. - -"Then who did?" he demanded. - -"If Mr. Barnstable had only mentioned sooner that he wished me to write -it," Jack observed graciously, "I'd have been glad to do my best." - -"Shut up, Jack," commanded Dick once more. "Really, Mr. Barnstable, it -does seem a little remarkable that you should go rushing about in this -extraordinary way without knowing what you are doing. You'll get into -some most unpleasant mess if you keep on." - -"Or bring up in a lunatic asylum," suggested Jack with the most -unblushing candor. - -Barnstable looked from one to the other with a bewildered expression as -if he were just recovering his senses. He walked to the table and took -up a glass of water, looked around as if for permission, and swallowed -it by uncouth gulps. - -"Perhaps I'd better go," he said, and turned toward the door. - -"Oh, by the way, Mr. Barnstable," Jack observed as the visitor laid his -hand on the door-knob, "does it seem to you that it would be in good -form to apologize before you go? If it doesn't, don't let me detain -you." - -The strange creature turned on the rug by the door, an abject expression -of misery from head to feet. - -"Of course I'd apologize," he said, "if it was any use. When my temper's -up I don't seem to have any control of what I do, and what I do is -always awful foolish. This thing's got hold of me so I don't sleep, and -that's made me worse. Of course you think I'm a lunatic, gentlemen; and -I suppose I am; but my wife--" - -The redness of his face gave signs that he was not far from choking, and -out of his fishy eyes there rolled genuine tears. Jack stepped forward -swiftly, and took him by the hand. - -"I beg your pardon, Mr. Barnstable," he said. "Of course I'd no idea -what you were driving at. Will you believe me when I tell you something? -I had nothing to do with writing 'Love in a Cloud,' but I do know who -wrote it. I can give you my word that the author didn't have your story -in mind at all." - -"Are you sure?" stammered Barnstable. - -"Of course I'm sure." - -"Then there is nothing I can do," Barnstable said, shaking his head -plaintively. "I've just made a fool of myself, and done nothing for -her." - -The door closed behind Barnstable, and the two young men looked at each -other a moment. Neither laughed, the foolish tragedy of the visitor's -last words not being mirth-provoking. - -"Well, of all the fools I've seen in my life," Jack commented slowly, -"this is the most unique specimen." - -"I'm afraid I can't blame the divorced Mrs. Barnstable," responded Dick; -"but there's something pathetic about the ass." - -It seemed the fate of Barnstable that day to afford amusement for Jack -Neligage. In the latter part of the afternoon Jack sauntered into the -Calif Club to see if there were anything in the evening papers or any -fresh gossip afloat, and there he encountered the irascible gentleman -once more. Scarcely had he nodded to him than Tom Harbinger and Harry -Bradish came up to them. - -"Hallo, Jack," the lawyer said cordially. "Anything new?" - -"Not that I know of," was the response. "How are you, Bradish?" - -"How are you?" replied Bradish. "Mr. Barnstable, I've called twice -to-day at your rooms." - -"I am sorry that I was out," Barnstable answered with awkward -politeness. "I have been here since luncheon." - -"I'm half sorry to find you now," Bradish proceeded, while Harbinger and -Jack looked on with some surprise at the gravity of his manner. "I've -got to do an errand to you that I'm afraid you'll laugh at." - -"An errand to me?" Barnstable returned. - -Bradish drew out his pocket-book, and with deliberation produced a note. -He examined it closely, as if to assure himself that there was no -mistake about what he was doing, and then held out the missive to -Barnstable. - -"Yes," he said, "I have the honor to be the bearer of a challenge from -the Count Shimbowski, who claims that you have grossly insulted him. -Will you kindly name a friend? There," he concluded, looking at -Harbinger and Neligage with a grin, "I think I did that right, didn't -I?" - -"Gad!" cried Jack. "Has the Count challenged him? What a lark!" - -"Nonsense!" Harbinger said. "You can't be serious, Bradish?" - -"No, I'm not very serious about it, but I assure you the Count is." - -"Challenged me?" demanded Barnstable, tearing open the epistle. "What -does the dago mean? He says--what's that word?--he says his honor -ex--expostulates my blood. Of course I shan't fight." - -Bradish shook his head, although he could not banish the laughter from -his face. - -"Blood is what he wants. He says he shall have to run you through in the -street if you won't fight." - -"Oh, you'll have to fight!" put in Jack. - -"The Count's a regular fire-eater," declared Tom. "You wouldn't like to -be run through in the street, Barnstable." - -Barnstable looked from one to another as if he were unable to understand -what was going on around him. - -"Curse it!" he broke out, his face assuming its apoplectic redness. -"Curse those fellows that write novels! Here I've got to be assassinated -just because some confounded scribbler couldn't keep from putting my -private affairs in his infernal book! It's downright murder!" - -"And the comic papers afterward," murmured Jack. - -"But what are you going to do about it?" asked Tom. - -"You might have the Count arrested and bound over to keep the peace," -suggested Bradish. - -"That's a nice speech for the Count's second!" cried Jack with a roar. - -"What am I going to do?" repeated Barnstable. "I'll fight him!" - -He struck himself on the chest, and glared around him, while they all -stood in astonished silence. - -"My wife has been insulted," he went on with fresh vehemence, "and I had -a right to call the man that did it a villain or anything else! I owe it -to her to fight him if he won't take it back!" - -"Gad!" said Jack, advancing and holding out his hand, "that's melodrama -and no mistake; but I like your pluck! I'll back you up, Barnstable!" - -"Does that mean that you'll be his second, Jack?" asked Harbinger, -laughing. - -"There, Tom," was the retort, "don't run a joke into the ground. When a -man shows the genuine stuff, he isn't to be fooled any longer." - -Bradish followed suit, and shook hands with Barnstable, and Harbinger -after him. - -"You're all right, Barnstable," Bradish observed; "but what are we to do -with the Count?" - -"Oh, that ass!" Jack responded. "I'd like to help duck him in a -horse-pond; but of course as he didn't write the book, Mr. Barnstable -won't mind apologizing for a hasty word said by mistake. Any gentleman -would do that." - -"Of course if you think it's all right," Barnstable said, "I'd rather -apologize; but I'd rather fight than have any doubt about the way I feel -toward the whelp that libelized my wife." - -Jack took him by the shoulder, and spoke to him with a certain slow -distinctness such as one might use in addressing a child. - -"Do have some common sense about this, Barnstable," he said. "Do get it -out of your head that the man who wrote that book knew anything about -your affairs. I've told you that already." - -"I told him too," put in Harbinger. - -"I suppose you know," Barnstable replied, shaking his head; "but it is -strange how near it fits!" - -Bradish took Barnstable off to the writing room to pen a suitable -apology to the Count, and Jack and Harbinger remained behind. - -"Extraordinary beggar," observed Jack, when they had departed. - -"Yes," answered the other absently. "Jack, of course you didn't write -'Love in a Cloud'?" - -"Of course not. What an idiotic idea!" - -"Fairfield said Barnstable had been accusing you of it, but I knew it -couldn't be anything but his crazy nonsense. Of course the Count didn't -write it either?" - -Jack eyed his companion inquiringly. - -"Look here, Tom," he said, "What are you driving at? Of course the Count -didn't write it. You are about as crazy as Barnstable." - -"Oh, I never thought he was the man; but who the deuce is it?" - -"Why should you care?" - -Harbinger leaned forward to the grate, and began to pound the coal with -the poker in a way that bespoke embarrassment. Suddenly he turned, and -broke out explosively. - -"I should think I ought to care to know what man my wife is writing -letters to! You heard her say she wrote that letter to Christopher -Calumus." - -Jack gave a snort of mingled contempt and amusement. - -"You old mutton-head," he said. "Your wife didn't write that letter. I -know all about it, and I got it back from the Count." - -"You did?" questioned Harbinger with animation. "Then why did Letty say -she wrote it?" - -"She wanted to shield somebody else. Now that's all I shall tell you. -See here, are you coming the Othello dodge?" - -Tom gave a vicious whack at a big lump which split into a dozen pieces, -all of which guzzled and sputtered after the unpleasant fashion of soft -coal. - -"There's something here I don't understand," he persisted. - -Jack regarded him curiously a moment. Then he lighted a fresh cigarette, -and lay back in his chair, stretching out his legs luxuriously. - -"It's really too bad that your wife's gone back on you," he observed -dispassionately. - -"What?" cried Tom, turning violently. - -"Such a nice little woman as Letty always was too," went on Jack -mercilessly. "I wouldn't have believed it." - -"What in the deuce do you mean?" Tom demanded furiously, grasping the -poker as if he were about to strike with it. "Do you dare to -insinuate--" - -Jack sat up suddenly and looked at him, his sunny face full of -earnestness. - -"What the deuce do you mean?" he echoed. "What can a man mean when he -begins to distrust his wife? Heavens! I'm beastly ashamed of you, Tom -Harbinger! To think of your coming to the club and talking to a man -about that little trump of a woman! You ought to be kicked! There, old -man," he went on with a complete change of manner, "I beg your pardon. I -only wanted to show you how you might look to an unfriendly eye. You -know you can't be seriously jealous of Letty." - -The other changed color, and looked shame-facedly into the coals. - -"No, of course not, Jack," he answered slowly. "I'm as big an idiot as -Barnstable. I do hate to see men dangling about her, though. I can't -help my disposition, can I?" - -"You've got to help it if it makes a fool of you." - -"And that infernal Count with his slimy manners," Tom went on. "If he -isn't a rascal there never was one. I'm not really jealous, I'm -only--only--" - -"Only an idiot," concluded Jack. "If I were Letty I'd really flirt with -somebody just to teach you the difference between these fool ideas of -yours and the real thing." - -"Don't, Jack," Tom said; "the very thought of it knocks me all out." - - - - -XIX - -THE CRUELTY OF LOVE - - -What might be the result of such a match as that of May Calthorpe and -Jack Neligage must inevitably depend largely upon the feelings of one or -the other to another love. If either were constant to a former flame, -only disaster could come of the _mariage de convenance_ which Mrs. -Neligage had adroitly patched up. If both left behind forgotten the -foolish flares of youthful passion, the married pair might arrange their -feelings upon a basis of mutual liking comfortable if not inspiring. -What happened to Jack in regard to Alice and to May's silly attraction -toward the unknown Christopher Calumus was therefore of much importance -in influencing the future. - -Since Alice Endicott knew of the engagement of May and Jack it was not -to be supposed that the malicious fates would fail to bring her face to -face with her former lover. The meeting happened a couple of days after. -Jack was walking down Beacon street, and Alice came out of May's just in -front of him. He quickened his steps and overtook her. - -"Good-morning," he said; "you've been in to May's, I see. How is she -to-day?" - -The tone was careless and full of good-nature, and his face as sunny as -the bright sky overhead. Alice did not look up at him, but kept her eyes -fixed on the distance. To one given to minute observation it might have -occurred that as she did not glance at him when he spoke she must have -been aware of his approach, and must have seen him when she came out -from the house. That she had not shown her knowledge of his nearness was -to be looked upon as an indication of something which was not -indifference. - -"Good-morning," she answered. "May didn't seem to be in particularly -good spirits." - -"Didn't she? I must try to find time to run in and cheer her up. I'm not -used to being engaged, you see, and I'm not up in my part." - -He spoke with a sort of swagger which was obviously intended to tease -her, and the heightened color in her cheeks told that it had not missed -the mark. - -"I have no doubt that you will soon learn it," she returned. "You were -always so good in amateur theatricals." - -He laughed boisterously, perhaps a little nervously. - -"'Praise from Sir Hubert,'" he quoted. "And speaking of engagements, is -it proper to offer congratulations on yours?" - -She turned to him with a look of indignant severity. - -"You know I am not engaged, and that I don't mean to be." - -"Oh, that's nothing. I didn't mean to be the other day." - -"I am not in the market," she said cuttingly. - -"Neither am I any more," Jack retorted coolly. "I've sold myself. That's -what they mean, I suppose, by saying a girl has made her market." - -Alice had grown more and more stern in her carriage as this talk -proceeded. Jack's tone was as flippant as ever, and he carried his -handsome head as jauntily as if they were talking of the merriest -themes. His brown eyes were full of a saucy light, and he switched his -walking-stick as if he were light-heartedly snapping off the heads of -daisies in a country lane. The more severe Alice became the more his -spirits seemed to rise. - -As they halted at a corner to let a carriage pass Alice turned and -looked at her companion, the hot blood flushing into her smooth cheek. - -"There is nothing in the world more despicable than a fortune-hunter!" -she declared with emphasis. - -"Oh, quite so," Jack returned, apparently full of inward laughter. -"Theoretically I agree with you entirely. Practically of course there -are allowances to be made. The Count has been brought up so, and you -mustn't be too hard on him." - -"You know what I mean," she said, unmoved by the cunning of his speech. - -"Yes, of course I can make allowances for you. You mean, I suppose, that -as long as you know he's really after you and not your money you can -despise public opinion; but naturally it must vex you to have the Count -misjudged. Everybody will think Miss Wentstile hired him to marry you." - -She parted her lips to speak, then restrained herself, and altered her -manner. She turned at bay, but she adopted Jack's own tactics. - -"You are right," she said. "I understand that the Count is only acting -according to the standards he's been brought up to. May hasn't that -consolation. I'm sure I don't see, if you don't mind my saying so, on -what ground she is going to contrive any sort of an excuse for her -husband." - -"She'll undoubtedly be so fond of him," Jack retorted with unabashed -good-nature, "that it won't occur to her that he needs an excuse. May -hasn't your Puritanical notions, you know. Really, I might be afraid of -her if she had." - -It was a game in which the man is always the superior of the woman. -Women will more cleverly and readily dissemble to the world, but to the -loved one they are less easily mocking and insincere than men. Alice, -however, was plucky, and she made one attempt more. - -"Of course May might admire you on the score of filial obedience. It -isn't every son who would allow his mother to arrange his marriage for -him." - -"No," Jack responded with a chuckle, "you're right there. I am a model -son." - -She stopped suddenly, and turned on the sidewalk in quick vehemence. - -"Oh, stop talking to me!" she cried. "I will go into the first house I -know if you keep on this way! You've no right to torment me so!" - -The angry tears were in her eyes, and her face was drawn with her effort -to sustain the self-control which had so nearly broken down. His -expression lost its roguishness, and in his turn he became grave. - -"No," he said half-bitterly, "perhaps not. Of course I haven't; but it -is something of a temptation when you are so determined to believe the -worst of me." - -She regarded him in bewilderment. - -"Determined to believe the worst?" she echoed. "Aren't you engaged to -May Calthorpe?" - -He took off his hat, and made her a profound and mocking bow. - -"I apparently have that honor," he said. - -"Then why am I not to believe it?" - -He looked at her a moment as if about to explain, then with the air of -finding it hopeless he set his lips together. - -"If you will tell me what you mean," Alice went on, "I may understand. -As it is I have your own word that you are engaged; you certainly do not -pretend that you care for May; and you know that your mother made the -match. You may be sure, Jack," she added, her voice softening a little -only to harden again, "that if there were any way of excusing you I -should have found it out. I'm still foolish enough to cling to old -friendship." - -His glance softened, and he regarded her with a look under which she -changed color and drew away from him. - -"Dear Alice," he said, "you always were a brick." - -She answered only by a startled look. Then before he could be aware of -her intention she had run lightly up the steps of a house and rung the -bell. He looked after her in amazement, then followed. - -"Alice," he said, "what are you darting off in that way for?" - -"I have talked with you as long as I care to," she responded, the color -in her cheeks, and her head held high. "I am going in here to see Mrs. -West. You had better go and cheer up May." - -Before he could reply a servant had opened the door. Jack lifted his -hat. - -"Good-by," said he. "Remember what I said about believing the worst." - -Then the door closed behind her, and he went on his way down the street. - -That the course of true love never ran smooth has been said on such a -multitude of occasions that it is time for some expert in the affections -to declare whether all love which runs roughly is necessarily genuine. -The supreme prerogative of young folk who are fond is of course to tease -and torment each other. Alice and Jack had that morning been a spectacle -of much significance to any student in the characteristics of -love-making. Youth indulges in the bitter of disagreement as a piquant -contrast to the sweets of the springtime of life. True love does not -run smooth because love cannot really take deep hold upon youth unless -it fixes attention by its disappointments and woes. Smooth and sweet -drink quickly cloys; while the cup in which is judiciously mingled an -apt proportion of acid stimulates the thirst it gratifies. If Jack was -to marry May it was a pity that he and Alice should continue thus to -hurt each other. - - - - -XX - -THE FAITHFULNESS OF A FRIEND - - -The friendship between Jack Neligage and Dick Fairfield was close and -sincere. For a man to say that the friendships of men are more true and -sure than those of women would savor of cynicism, and might be objected -to on the ground that no man is in a position to judge on both sides of -the matter. It might on the other hand be remarked that even women -themselves give the impression of regarding masculine comradeship as a -finer product of humanity than feminine, but comparisons of this sort -have little value. It is surely enough to keep in mind how gracious a -gift of the gods is a genuine affection between two right-hearted men. -The man who has one fellow whom he loves, of whose love he is assured; -one to whom he may talk as freely as he would think, one who understands -not only what is said but the things which are intended; a friend with -whom it is possible to be silent without offense or coldness, against -whom there need be no safeguards, and to whom one may turn alike in -trouble and in joy--the man who has found a friend like this has a gift -only to be outweighed by the love of her whose price is far above rubies -and whose works praise her in the gates. Such a friendship is all but -the most precious gift of the gods. - -To evoke and to share such a friendship, moreover, marks the possession -of possibilities ethically fine. A man may love a woman in pure -selfishness; but really to love his male friend he must possess -capabilities of self-sacrifice and of manliness. It is one of the charms -of comradeship that it frankly accepts and frankly gives without -weighing or accounting. In the garden of such a friendship may walk the -soul of man as his body went in Eden before the Fall, "naked and not -ashamed." He cannot be willing to show himself as he is if his true self -have not its moral beauties. It may be set down to the credit both of -Dick and of Jack that between them there existed a friendship so close -and so trustful. - -Even in the closest friendships, however, there may be times of -suspension. Perhaps in a perfect comradeship there would be no room for -the faintest cloud; but since men are human and there is nothing perfect -in human relations, even friendship may sometimes seem to suffer. For -some days after the announcement of Jack's engagement there was a marked -shade between the friends. Jack, indeed, was the same as ever, jolly, -careless, indolent, and apparently without a trouble in the world. Dick, -on the other hand, was at times absent, constrained, or confused. To -have his friend walk in and coolly announce an engagement with the girl -whose correspondence had fired Dick's heart was naturally trying and -astonishing. Dick might have written a bitter chapter about the way in -which women spoiled the friendships of men; and certain cynical remarks -which appeared in his next novel may be conceived of as having been set -down at this time. - -More than a week went by without striking developments. The engagement -had not been announced, nor had it, after the first evening, been -mentioned between the two friends. That there should be a subject upon -which both must of necessity reflect much, yet of which they did not -speak, was in itself a sufficient reason for a change in the mental -atmosphere of their bachelor quarters, which from being the cheeriest -possible were fast becoming the most gloomy. - -One morning as Dick sat writing at his desk, Jack, who since breakfast -had been engaged in his own chamber, came strolling in, in leisurely -fashion, smoking the usual cigarette. - -"I hope I don't disturb you, old man," he said, "but there's something -I'd like to ask you, if you don't mind." - -Dick, whose back was toward the other, did not turn. He merely held his -pen suspended, and said coldly:-- - -"Well?" - -Jack composed himself in a comfortable position by leaning against the -mantel, an attitude he much affected, and regarded his cigarette as if -it had some close connection with the thing he wished to say. - -"You remember perhaps that letter that I gave you from May?" - -Dick laid his pen down suddenly, and sat up, but he did not turn. - -"Well?" he said again. - -"And the other letters before it?" - -"Well?" - -"It has occurred to me that perhaps I ought to ask for them,--demand -them, don't you know, the way they do on the stage." - -Dick said nothing. By keeping his back to his chum he missed sight of a -face full of fun and mischief. - -"Of course I don't want to seem too bumptious, but now I'm engaged to -Miss Calthorpe--" - -He paused as if to give Fairfield an opportunity of speaking; but still -Dick remained silent. - -"Well," observed Jack after a moment, "why the dickens don't you say -something? I can't be expected to carry on this conversation all alone." - -"What do you want me to say?" Fairfield asked, in a tone so solemn that -it was no wonder his friend grinned more than ever. - -"Oh, nothing, if that's the way you take it." - -"You knew about those letters when I got them," Fairfield went on. "I -read them to you before I knew where they came from." - -"Oh, my dear fellow, hold on. You never read me any but the first one." - -"At any rate," rejoined Dick, obviously disturbed by this thrust, "I -told you about them." - -"Oh, you did? You told me very little about the second, and nothing -about the third. I didn't even know how many you had." - -Fairfield rose from his seat, thrust his hands into his pockets, and -began to pace up and down the room. Jack smoked and watched. - -"Look here, Jack," Dick said, "we've been fencing round this thing for a -week, and it's got to be talked out." - -"All right; heave ahead, old man." - -Fairfield stopped in his walk and confronted his friend. - -"Are you really fond of Miss Calthorpe, Jack?" - -"Oh, I don't object to her; but of course the marriage is for purely -business reasons." - -"You're not in love with her?" - -"Not the least in the world, old man," Jack responded cheerfully, -blowing a ring of smoke and watching it intently as it sailed toward the -ceiling. "But then she doesn't love me, so there's no bother of -pretending on either side." - -The color mounted in Dick's cheeks. - -"Do you think it's the square thing to marry a young girl like that, and -tie her up for life when she doesn't know what she's doing?" - -"Oh, girls never know what they are doing. How should they know about -marriage in any case? The man has to think for both, of course." - -"But suppose she shouldn't be happy." - -"Oh, I'll be good to any girl I marry. I'm awfully easy to live with. -You ought to know that." - -"But suppose," Dick urged again, "suppose she--" - -"Suppose she what?" - -"Why, suppose she--suppose she--she liked somebody else?" - -Jack looked shrewdly at Dick's confused face, and burst into a laugh. - -"I guessed those letters were pretty fair," he burst out, "but they must -have been much worse than I even suspected!" - -"What do you mean?" stammered Dick. - -"Mean? Oh, nothing,--nothing in the world. By the way, as the matter -relates to my _fiancee_, I hope you won't mind my asking if she's -written to you since our engagement." - -"Why--" - -"Then she has written," pronounced Jack, smiling more than ever at the -confusion of his friend. "You haven't the cheek to bluff a baby, Dick. I -should hate to see you try to run a kelter through." - -"She only wrote to say that she was glad the Count didn't write 'Love in -a Cloud,' and a few things, you know, that she wanted to say." - -Jack flung the end of his cigarette away and stepped swiftly forward to -catch his chum by the shoulders behind. He whirled Dick about like a -teetotum. - -"Oh, Dick, you old fool," he cried, "what an ass you are! Do you suppose -I'm such a cad as really to propose to marry May when she's fond of you -and you're fond of her? It doesn't speak very well of your opinion of -me." - -Dick stared at him in half-stupefied amazement for an instant; then the -blood came rushing into his cheeks. - -"You don't mean to marry her?" he cried amazedly. - -"Never did for a minute," responded Jack cheerfully. "Don't you know, -old man, that I've sold my polo ponies, and taken a place in the bank?" - -"Taken a place in the bank!" exclaimed Dick, evidently more and more -bewildered. "Then what did you pretend to be engaged to her for?" - -"Confound your impudence!" laughed Jack, "I was engaged to her, you -beast! I am engaged to her now, and if you're n't civil I'll keep on -being. You can't be engaged to her till I break my engagement!" - -"But, Jack, I don't understand what in the deuce you mean." - -"Mean? I don't know that I meant anything. I was engaged to her without -asking to be, and when a lady says she is engaged to you you really -can't say you're not. Besides, I thought it might help you." - -"Help me?" - -"Of course, my boy. There is nothing to set a girl in the way of wishing -to be engaged to the right man like getting engaged to the wrong one." - -Dick wrung his friend's hand. - -"Jack," he said, "I beg your pardon. You're a trump!" - -"Oh, I knew that all the time," responded Jack. "It may comfort you a -little to know that it hasn't been much of an engagement. I've been -shamefully neglectful of my position. Now of course an engaged man is -supposed to show his ardor, to take little liberties, and be generally -loving, you know." - -Dick grew fiery red, and shrank back. Jack laughed explosively. - -"Jealous, old man?" he demanded provokingly. "Well, I won't tease you -any more. I haven't so much as kissed her hand." - -Dick's rather combative look changed instantly into shamefacedness, and -he shook hands again. He turned away quickly, but as quickly turned back -again once more to grasp the hand of his chum. - -"Jack Neligage," he declared, "you're worth more than a dozen of my best -heroes, and a novelist can't say more than that!" - -"Gad! You'd better put me in a novel then," was Jack's response. "They -won't believe I'm real though; I'm too infernally virtuous." - -A knock at the door interrupted them, and proved to be the summons of -the janitor, who announced that a lady wished to see Mr. Fairfield. - -"Don't let her stay long," Jack said, retreating to his room. "I can't -get out till she is gone, and I want to go down town. I've got to order -the horses to take my _fiancee_ out for a last ride. It's to break my -engagement, so you ought to want it to come off." - - - - -XXI - -THE MISCHIEF OF A FIANCE - - -The lady proved to be Alice Endicott. She came in without shyness or -embarrassment, with her usual air of quiet refinement, and although she -must have seen the surprise in Dick's face, she took no notice of it. -Alice was one of those women so free from self-consciousness, so -entirely without affectations, yet so rare in her simple dignity, that -it was hard to conceive her as ever seeming to be out of place. She was -so superior to surroundings that her environment did not matter. - -"Good-morning, Mr. Fairfield," she said. "I should apologize for -intruding. I hope I am not disturbing your work." - -"Good-morning," he responded. "I am not at work just now. Sit down, -please." - -She took the chair he offered, and came at once to her errand. - -"I came from Miss Calthorpe," she said. - -"Miss Calthorpe?" he repeated. - -"Yes. She thought she ought not to write to you again; and she asked me -to come for her letters; those she wrote before she knew who you were." - -"But why shouldn't she write to me for them?" - -"You forget that she is engaged, Mr. Fairfield." - -"I--Of course, I did forget for the minute; but even if she is, I don't -see why so simple a thing as a note asking for her letters--" - -Alice rose. - -"I don't think that there is any need of my explaining," she said. "If I -tell you that she didn't find it easy to write, will that be sufficient? -Of course you will give me the letters." - -"I must give them if she wishes it; but may I ask one question first? -Doesn't she send for them because she's engaged?" - -"Isn't that reason enough?" - -"It is reason enough," Dick answered, smiling; "but it isn't a reason -here. She isn't engaged any more. That is, she won't be by night." - -Alice stared at him in astonishment. - -"What do you mean?" she demanded. - -"I mean that Jack never meant to marry her, and that he is going to -release her from her engagement." - -"How do you know that?" - -"He told me himself." - -They stood in silence a brief interval looking each other in the face. -Fairfield was radiant, but Miss Endicott was very pale. - -"I beg your pardon," she said presently. "Is Mr. Neligage in the house?" - -"Yes; he's in his room." - -"Will you call him, please?" - -Fairfield hesitated a little, but went to call his chum. - -"Miss Endicott wants to speak to you," he said abruptly. - -"What does she want?" - -"I haven't any idea." - -"What have you been telling her?" - -The necessity of answering this question Dick escaped by returning to -the other room; and his friend followed. - -"Jack," Alice cried, as soon as he appeared, "tell me this moment if -it's true that you're not to marry May!" - -He faced her stiff and formal in his politeness. - -"Pardon me if I do not see that you have any right to ask me such a -question." - -"Why, I came to ask Mr. Fairfield for May's letters because she is -engaged to you, and he told me--" - -She broke off, her habitual self-control being evidently tried almost -beyond its limit. - -"I took the liberty, Jack," spoke up Fairfield, "of saying--" - -"Don't apologize," Neligage said. "It is true, Miss Endicott, that -circumstances have arisen which make it best for May to break the -engagement. I shall be obliged to you, however, if you don't mention the -matter to her until she brings it up." - -Alice looked at him appealingly. - -"But I thought--" - -"We are none of us accountable for our thoughts, Miss Endicott, nor -perhaps for a want of faith in our friends." - -She moved toward him with a look of so much appeal that Dick discreetly -turned his back under pretense of looking for something on his -writing-table. - -"At least," she said, her voice lower than usual, "you will let me -apologize for the way in which I spoke to you the other morning." - -"Oh, don't mention it," he returned carelessly. "You were quite -justified." - -He turned away with easy nonchalance, as if the matter were one in which -he had no possible interest. - -"At least," she begged, "you'll pardon me, and shake hands." - -"Oh, certainly, if you like," answered he; "but it doesn't seem -necessary." - -Her manner changed in the twinkling of an eye. Indignation shone in her -face and her head was carried more proudly. - -"Then it isn't," she said. "Good-morning, Mr. Fairfield." - -She went from the room as quickly as a shadow flits before sunlight. The -two young men were so taken by surprise that by the time Dick reached -the door to open it for his departing caller, it had already closed -behind her. The friends stared a moment. Then Jack made a swift stride -to the door; but when he flung it open the hall without was empty. - -"Damn it, Dick," he ejaculated, coming back with a face of anger, "what -did you let her go off like that for?" - -"How in the world could I help it?" was all that his friend could -answer. - -Jack regarded Dick blackly for the fraction of a second; then he burst -into a laugh, and clapped him on the shoulder. - -"I beg your pardon, old man," he said, as cheerily as ever. "I'm going -off my nerve with all these carryings on. If you hadn't written that -rotten old novel of yours, we shouldn't have had these continual -circuses." - -He went for his hat as he spoke, and without farther adieu took his way -down town. Men in this peculiar world are to be envied or pitied not so -much for their fortunes as for their dispositions; and if outward -indications were to be trusted, Jack Neligage was one of those enviable -creatures who will be cheerful despite the blackest frowns of fate. From -indifference or from pluck, from caring little for the favors of fortune -or from despising her spite, Jack took his way through life merrily, -smiling and sunny; up hill or down dale as it chanced he followed the -path, with a laugh on his lip and always a kindly greeting for his -fellow travelers. This morning, as he walked out into the sunlight, -handsome, well-groomed, debonaire, and jocund, certainly no one who saw -him was likely to suspect that the world did not go smoothly with him. -Least of all could one suppose that his heart or his thought was -troubled concerning the favor or disfavor of any woman whatsoever. - -Jack in the afternoon took May for a drive. The engagement had thus far -been a somewhat singular one. Jack had been to see May nearly every -day, it is true, but either by the whimsical contrivance of fate or by -his own cunning he had seldom seen her alone. She either had callers or -was out herself; and as no one but Mrs. Neligage and Alice knew of the -engagement there was no chance for that sentiment which makes callers -upon a lady feel it necessary to retreat as speedily as possible upon -the appearance of her acknowledged lover. So well settled in the public -mind was the conviction that Jack was in love with Alice Endicott, that -nobody took the trouble to notice that he was calling on May Calthorpe -or to get out of his way that he might be alone with her. This -afternoon, in the face of all the world, in a stylish trap, on the open -highway, they were at last together without other company. - -Had not the mind of May been provided with an object of regret and -longing in the person of Fairfield, there might have been danger that -Jack would engage her fancy by sheer indifference. Any girl must be -puzzled, interested, piqued, and either exasperated or hurt according to -her nature, when the man to whom she is newly betrothed treats her as -the most casual of acquaintances. If nothing else moved her there would -be the bite of unsatisfied curiosity. To be engaged without even being -able to learn by experience what being engaged consists in may well wear -on the least inquisitive feminine disposition. The _fiance_ who does not -even make pretense of playing the lover is an object so curious that he -cannot fail to attract attention, to awake interest, and the chances -are largely in favor of his developing in the breast of his fair the -determination to see him really aroused and enslaved. Many a woman has -succumbed to indifference who would have been proof against the most -ardent wooing. - -"Well, May," Jack said, smiling upon her as they drove over the Mill -Dam, "how do you like being engaged?" - -She looked at him with a sparkle in her eyes which made her bewitching. - -"I don't see that it's very different from not being engaged," she said. - -"It will be if you keep on looking so pretty," he declared. "I shall -kiss you right here in the street, and that would make folks talk." - -The color came into her cheeks in a way that made her more charming -still. - -"Now you color," Jack went on, regarding her with a teasing coolness, -"you are prettier yet. Gad! I shall have to kiss you!" - -His horses shied at something at that instant, and he was forced to -attend to them, so that May had a moment's respite in which to gather up -her wits. When he looked back, she took the aggressive. - -"It is horrid in you to talk that way," she remarked. "Besides, you said -that I needn't kiss you until I wanted to." - -"Well, I didn't promise not to kiss you, did I?" - -"How silly you are to-day!" she exclaimed. "Isn't there anything better -to talk about than kissing?" - -Jack regarded her with a grin; a grin in which, it must be confessed, -there was something of the look with which a boy watches a kitten he is -teasing. - -"Anything better?" repeated he. "When you've had more experience, May, -perhaps you won't think there is anything better." - -May began to look sober, and even to have the appearance of feeling that -the conversation was becoming positively improper. - -"I think you are just horrid!" she declared. "I do wish you'd behave." - -He gave her a respite for some moments, and they drove along through the -sunlight of the April afternoon. The trees as they came into the country -were beautiful with the buds and promise of nearing summer; the air soft -with that cool smoothness which is a reminder that afar the breeze has -swept fragments of old snowdrifts yet unmelted; the sky moist with the -mists of snow-fields that have wasted away. All the landscape was -exquisite with delicate hues. - -The supreme color-season of New England begins about the middle of -March, and lasts--at the very latest--until the middle of May. Its -climax comes in late April, when pearly mists hover among the branches -that are soon to be hidden by foliage. Glowing tints of amethyst, -luminous gray, tender green, coral, and yellow white, make the woods a -dream of poetic loveliness beside which the gorgeous and less varied -hues of autumn are crude. Something dreamlike, veiled, mysterious, is -felt in these tints, this iridesence of the woods in spring; as if one -were looking at the luminous, rosy mists within which, as Venus amid the -rainbow-dyed foam of the sea, is being shaped to immortal youth and -divine comeliness the very goddess of spring. The red of the maple-buds -shows from afar; the russet leaflets of the ash, the vivid green, the -amber, the pearl, and the tawny of the clustering hardwood trees, set -against the heavy masses of the evergreens, are far more lovely than all -the broad coloring of summer or the hot tints of autumn. - -Under the afternoon sun the woods that day were at their best, and -presently May spoke of the colors which spread down the gentle slopes of -the low hills not far away. - -"Isn't it just too lovely for anything!" she said. "Just look at that -hill over there. It is perfectly lovely." - -Jack glanced at the hill, and then looked at her teasingly. - -"That's right," he remarked. "Of course spoony people ought to talk -about spring, and how perfectly lovely everything is." - -"I didn't say that because we're engaged," returned May, rather -explosively. "I really meant it." - -"Of course you did. That shows that you are in the proper frame of mind. -Now I'm not. I don't care a rap to talk about the whole holy show. It's -pretty, of course; but I'm not going in for doing the sentimental that -way." - -She looked up with mingled indignation and entreaty. - -"Now you are going to be horrid again," she protested. "Why can't you -stop talking about our being engaged?" - -"Stop talking about it? Why, good heavens, we're expected to talk about -it. I never was engaged before, but I hope I know my business." - -"But I don't want to talk about it!" - -"Oh, you really do, only you are shy about owning it." - -"But I won't talk about it!" - -"Oh, yes, you will, my dear; for if I say things you can't help -answering 'em." - -"I won't say another word!" - -"I'll bet you a pair of gloves that the next thing I say about our being -engaged you'll not only answer, but you'll answer in a hurry." - -"I'll take your bet!" cried May with animation. "I won't answer a word." - -Jack gave a wicked chuckle, and flicked his horses into a brisk run. In -a moment or two he drew them down to an easy trot, and turned to May -with a matter-of-fact air. - -"Of course now we have been engaged a week," he said, "I am at liberty -to read that letter you wrote to Christopher Calumus?" - -"Read it!" she cried. "Oh, I had forgotten that you kept it! Oh, you -mustn't read it! I wouldn't have you read it for the world." - -"Would you have me read it for a pair of gloves?" inquired Jack -wickedly. "You've lost your bet." - -"I don't care anything about my bet," she retorted, with an earnestness -so great as to suggest that tears were not so far behind. "I want that -letter." - -"I'm sorry you can't have it," was his reply; "but the truth is, I -haven't got it." - -"Haven't got it? What have you done with it?" - -"Delivered it to the one it was addressed to,--Christopher Calumus." - -"Delivered it? Do you mean you gave it to Mr. Fairfield?" - -"Just that. You wrote it to him, didn't you?" - -Poor May was now so pale and miserable that a woman would have taken her -in her arms to be kissed and comforted, but Jack, the unfeeling wretch, -continued his teasing. - -"I didn't want you to think I was a tyrant," he went on. "Of course I'm -willing you should write to anybody that you think best." - -"But--but I wrote that letter to Mr. Fairfield before I knew who he -was!" gasped May. - -"Well, what of it? Anything that you could say to a stranger, of course -you could say to a man you knew." - -For reply May put up one hand to her eyes, and with the other began a -distressing and complicated search for a handkerchief. Jack bent forward -to peer into her face and instantly assumed a look of deep contrition. - -"Oh, I say," he remonstrated, "it's no fair to cry. Besides, you'll -spoil your gloves, and now you've got to pay me a pair you can't afford -to be so extravagant." - -The effect of this appeal was to draw from May a sort of hysterical -gurgle, a sound indescribably funny, and which might pass for either a -cry of joy or of woe. - -"I think you are too bad," she protested chokingly. "You know I didn't -want Mr. Fairfield to have that letter when I was engaged to you!" - -"Oh, is that all?" he returned lightly. "Then that's easily fixed. Let's -not be engaged any more, and then there'll be no harm in his having it." - -Apparently astonishment dried her tears. She looked at him in a sort of -petrified wonder. - -"I really mean it, my dear," he went on with a paternal air which was -exceedingly droll in Jack Neligage. "I'll say more. I never meant for a -minute to marry you. I knew you didn't want to have me, and I'd no -notion of being tied to a dragooned wife." - -"A dragooned wife?" May repeated. - -She was evidently so stupefied by the turn things had taken that she -could not follow him. - -"A woman dragooned into marrying me," Jack explained, with a jovial -grin; "one that was thinking all the time how much happier she would be -with somebody else." - -"And you never meant to marry me? Then what did you get engaged to me -for?" - -"I didn't. You wrote me that you were engaged to me, and of course as a -gentleman I couldn't contradict a lady, especially on a point so -delicate as that." - -May flushed as red as the fingers of dawn. - -"Your mother--" she began; but he interrupted her. - -"Isn't it best that we don't go into that?" he said in a graver voice. -"I confess that I amused myself a little, and I thought that you needed -a lesson. There were other things, but no matter. I never was the whelp -you and Alice thought me." - -"Oh, Alice!" cried May, with an air of sudden enlightenment. - -"Well, what about her?" Jack demanded. - -"Nothing," replied May, smiling demurely to herself, "only she will be -glad that the engagement is broken. She said awfully hard things about -you." - -"I am obliged to her," he answered grimly. - -"Oh, not really awful," May corrected herself quickly, "and anyway it -was only because she was so fond of you." - -To this he made no reply, and for some time they drove on in silence. -Then Jack shook off his brief depression, and apparently set himself to -be as amusing as he could. He aroused May to a condition of mirth almost -wildly joyous. They laughed and jested, told each other stories, and the -girl's eyes shone, her dimples danced in and out like sun-flecks -flashing on the water, the color in her cheeks was warm and delightful. -Not a word more was said on personal matters until Jack deposited her at -her own door once more. - -"I never had such a perfectly lovely ride in my life!" she exclaimed, -looking at him with eyes full of animation and gratitude. - -"Then you see what you are losing in throwing me over," he returned. -"Oh, you've had your chance and lost it!" - -She laughed brightly, and held out her hand. - -"But you see," she said mischievously, "the trouble is that the best -thing about the ride was just that loss!" - -"I like your impudence!" he chuckled. "Well, you're welcome. Good-by. -I'll send Fairfield round to talk with you about the letter." - -And before she could reply he was away. - - - - -XXII - -THE COOING OF TURTLE-DOVES - - -There is nothing like the possibility of loss to bring a man to his -bearings in regard to a woman. Dick Fairfield had told Jack that of -course he was not a marrying man, that he could not afford to marry a -poor woman, and that nothing would induce him to marry a rich one; he -had even set down in his diary on the announcement of Jack's engagement -that he could never have offered his hand to a girl with so much money; -what his secret thought may have been no sage may say, but he had all -the outward signs of a man who has convinced himself that he has no idea -of trying to secure the girl he loves. Now that the affair had shaped -itself so that May was again free, he hurried to her with a -precipitation which had in it a choice flavor of comedy. - -May always told him afterward that he did not even do her the honor to -ask her for her hand, but that he coolly walked in and took up the -engagement of Jack Neligage where it had been dropped. It was at least -true that by nine o'clock that very evening they were sitting side by -side as cosy and as idiotically blissful as a young couple newly -betrothed should be. However informally the preliminaries had been -conducted, the conclusion seemed to be eminently satisfactory. - -"To think that this is the result of that little letter that I found on -my table one rainy night last February," Dick observed rapturously. "I -remember just how it looked." - -"It was horrid of me to write it," May returned, with a demure look -which almost as plainly as words added: "Contradict me!" - -"It was heavenly of you," Dick declared, rising to the occasion most -nobly. "It was the nicest valentine that ever was." - -Some moments of endearments interesting to the participants but not -edifying in narration followed upon this assertion, and then the little -stream of lover-talk purled on again. - -"Oh, Mr. Fairfield," May began with utter irrelevancy, "I--" - -"You promised not to call me that," he interrupted. - -"But it's so strange to say Dick. Well, Dick, then--" - -The slight interruption of a caress having been got over, she went on -with her shattered observation. - -"What was I going to say? You put me all out, with your 'Dick'--I do -think it's the dearest name!--Stop! I know what I was going to say. I -was frightened almost to death when Mrs. Neligage said the Count wrote -'Love in a Cloud.' Oh, I wanted to get under the tea-table!" - -"But you didn't really think he wrote my letters?" - -"I couldn't believe it; but I didn't know what to think. Then when he -wore a red carnation the next day, I thought I should die. I thought -anyway he'd read the letter; and that's what made me so meek when Mrs. -Neligage took hold of me." - -"But you never suspected that I wrote the book?" Fairfield asked. - -"Oh, I don't know. Sometimes it seems to me as if I really did know all -the time. Don't you remember how we talked about the book at Mrs. -Harbinger's tea?" - -"That's just your intuition," Dick returned. "I know I didn't suspect -you, for it troubled me tremendously that I cared so much for you when I -thought I was in love with my unknown correspondent. It didn't seem -loyal." - -"But of course it was, you know, because there was only one of us." - -Dick laughed, and bestowed upon her an ecstatic little hug. - -"You dear little Paddy! That's a perfect bull!" - -She drew herself away, and pretended to frown with great dignity. - -"I don't care if it is a bull!" protested she. "I won't be called a -Paddy!" - -Dick's face expressed a consternation and a penitence so marked that she -burst into a trill of laughter and flung herself back into his arms. - -"I was just teasing," she said. "The truth is that Jack Neligage has -teased me so awfully that I've caught it like the measles." - -The tender follies which make up the talk of lovers are not very -edifying reading when set down in the unsympathetic blackness of print. -They are to be interpreted, moreover, with the help of many signs, -trifling in themselves but essential to a correct understanding. Looks, -caresses, sighs, chuckles, giggles, pressures and claspings, intonations -which alter or deny the word spoken, a thousand silly becks, and nods, -and wreathed smiles, all go to make up the conversation between the -pair, so that what may be put into print is but a small portion of the -ecstatic whole. May Calthorpe and Dick Fairfield were not behind in all -the enchanting idiocy which belongs to a wooing, where each lover, -secure in being regarded as perfection, ventures for once in a lifetime -to be frankly childish, to show self without any mask of convention. - -"Oh, I knew you were a man of genius the very first time I saw you," May -cried, in an entirely honest defiance of all facts and all evidence. - -"I wish I were for your sake," Dick replied, with an adoring glance, and -a kiss on the hand which he held. "And to think that this absurdly small -hand wrote those beautiful letters." - -"You didn't suppose I had an amanuensis, did you?" laughed May. - -Then Dick laughed, and together they both laughed, overpowered by the -exquisite wit of this fine jest. - -"Really, though," Dick said, "they came to me like a revelation. I never -had such letters before!" - -May drew away her hand, and sat upright with an air of offended -surprise. - -"Well, I should hope you never did!" she cried. "The idea of any other -woman's daring to write to you!" - -"But you were writing to a stranger; some other woman--" - -"Now, Richard," declared May resolutely, "this has got to be settled -right here. If you are going to twit me all my life with having written -to you--" - -He effectually stopped her speech. - -"I'll never speak of it again," he said; "or at least only just often -enough so that it shan't be entirely forgotten." - -"You are horrid!" declared she with a pout. "You mean to tease me -with--" - -"Tease you, May? Heavens, how you mistake! I only want all my life to be -kept your slave by remembering--" - -The reader is at liberty from experience to supply as many hours of this -sort of talk as his taste calls for. There were, however, some points of -real interest touched upon in the course of the evening. Dick confided -to May the fact that Jack Neligage had sold his ponies, was paying his -debts, and had accepted a place in a bank. Mr. Frostwinch, a college -friend of Jack's father, had offered the situation, and although the -salary was of course not large it gave Neligage something to live on. - -"Oh, I'll tell that to Alice to-morrow," May said. "She will be -delighted to know that Jack is going to do something. Alice is awfully -fond of him." - -The conversation had to be interrupted by speculations upon the relative -force of the attachment between Alice and Jack and the love which May -and Dick were at that moment confirming; and from this the talk drifted -away to considerations of the proper manner of disclosing the -engagement. May's guardian, Mr. Frostwinch, Dick knew well, and there -was no reason to expect opposition from him unless on the possible -ground of a difference of fortune. It was decided that Dick should see -him on the morrow, and that there should be no delay in announcing the -important news. - -"It will take us two or three days to write our notes, of course," May -said, with a pretty air of being very practical in the midst of her -sentiment. "We'll say next Wednesday." - -Dick professed great ignorance of the social demands of the situation, -and of course the explanation had to be given with many ornamental -flourishes in the way of oscular demonstrations. May insisted that -everything should be done duly and in order; told him upon whom of her -relatives he would have to call, to whom write, and so many other -details that Dick accused her of having been engaged before. - -"You horrid thing!" she pouted. "I've a great mind to break the -engagement now. I have been engaged, though," she added, bursting into -a laugh of pure glee. "You forget that I woke up this morning engaged -to one man and shall go to sleep engaged to another." - -"Dear old Jack!" Fairfield said fervently. "Well, I must go home and -find him. I want to tell him the news. Heavens! I had no idea it was so -late!" - -"It isn't late," May protested, after the fashion of all girls in her -situation, both before and since; but when Dick would go, she laughingly -said: "You tell Jack if he were here I'd kiss him. He said I'd want to -some time." - -And after half an hour of adieus and a brisk walk home, Dick delivered -the message. - - - - -XXIII - -THE BUSINESS OF A MUSE - - -The decadence of literature began insensibly with the invention of -printing, and has been proceeding ever since. How far it has proceeded -and whether literature yet exists at all are questions difficult if not -impossible to answer at the present time, because of the multitude of -books. No living man can have more than a most superficial knowledge of -what is being done in what was formerly the royalty and is now the -communism of letters. A symphony played in the midst of a battle would -stand much the same chance of being properly appreciated as would to-day -a work of fine literary worth sent forth in the midst of the innumerous -publications of the age. - -Men write, however, more than ever. There is perhaps a difference, in -that where men of the elder day deluded themselves or hoped to delude -others with impressive talk about art and fame and other now obsolete -antiquities, the modern author sets before him definite and desirable -prizes in the shape of money and of notoriety which has money's worth. -The muse of these days is confronted on the door of the author with a -stern "No admittance except on business," and she is not allowed to -enter unless she bring her check-book with her. The ideal of art is -to-day set down in figures and posted by bankers' clerks. Men once -foolishly tried to live to write; now they write to live. If men seek -for Pegasus it is with a view to getting a patent on him as a -flying-machine; and the really progressive modern author has much the -same view of life as the rag-picker, that of collecting any sort of -scraps that may be sold in the market. - -Dick Fairfield had much the attitude of other writers of his day and -generation. He had set out to make a living by writing, because he liked -it, and because, in provincial Boston at least, there is still a certain -sense of distinction attached to the profession of letters, a legacy -from the time when the public still respected art. Fairfield had been -for years struggling to get a foothold of reputation sufficiently secure -to enable him to stretch more vigorously after the prizes of modern -literary life, where notoriety commands a price higher than genius could -hope for. He had done a good deal of hack work, of which that which he -liked least, yet which had perhaps as a matter of training been best for -him, had been the rewriting of manuscripts for ambitious authors. A -bureau which undertakes for a compensation to mend crude work, to infuse -into the products of undisciplined imagination or incompetency that -popular element which shall make a work sell, had employed Fairfield to -reconstruct novels which dealt with society. In this capacity he had -made over a couple of flimsy stories of which Mrs. Croydon claimed the -credit, on the strength of having set down the first draught from -events which had happened within her own knowledge. So little of the -original remained in the published version, it may be noted in passing, -that she might have been puzzled to recognize her own bantlings. The -success of these books had given Dick courage to attempt a society novel -for himself; and by one of those lucky and inexplicable flukes of -fortune, "Love in a Cloud" had gained at least the success of immediate -popularity. - -Fairfield had published the novel anonymously partly from modesty, -partly from a business sense that it was better to have his name clear -than associated with a failure. He had been deterred from acknowledging -the book after its success by the eagerness with which the public had -set upon his characters and identified each with some well known person. -If the scene of a novel be laid in a provincial city its characters must -all be identified. That is the first intellectual duty of the readers of -fiction. To look at a novel from a critical point of view is no longer -in the least a thing about which any reader need concern himself; but it -would be an omission unpardonably stupid were he to remain unacquainted -with some original under the disguise of every character. A single -detail is sufficient for identification. If a man in a tale have a wart -on his nose, the intelligent reader should not rest until he think of a -dweller in the town whose countenance is thus adorned. That single -particular must thenceforth be held to decide the matter. If the man in -the novel and the man in the flesh differ in every other particular, -physical and mental, that is to be held as the cunning effort of the -writer to disguise his real model. The wart decides it, and the more -widely the copy departs in other characteristics from the chosen person -the more evident is it that the novelist did not wish his original to be -known. The more striking therefore is the shrewdness which has -penetrated the mystery. The reader soddens in the consciousness of his -own penetration as the sardine, equally headless, soaks in oil. -Fairfield was now waiting for this folly of identification to pass -before he gave his name to the novel, and in the mean time he was -tasting the delight of a first literary success where the pecuniary -returns allowed his vanity to glow without rebuke from his conscience. - -Fairfield was surprised, one morning not long after the polo game, by -receiving a call from Mrs. Croydon. He knew her slightly, having met her -now and then in society, and his belief that she was entirely ignorant -of his share in her books might naturally invest her with a peculiar -interest. She was a Western woman who had lived in the East but a few -years, and her blunders in regard to Eastern society as they appeared in -her original manuscripts had given him a good deal of quiet amusement. -Why she should now have taken it upon herself to come to his chambers -could only become evident by her own explanation. - -"You are probably surprised to see me here, Mr. Fairfield," she -began, settling herself in a chair with the usual ruffling of -rag-tag-and-bobbery without which she never seemed able to move. - -"I naturally should not have been vain enough to foresee that I should -have such an honor," he responded, with his most elaborate society -manner. - -She smirked, and nodded. - -"That is very pretty," she said. "Well, I'll tell you at once, not to -keep you in suspense. I came on business." - -"Business?" repeated he. - -"Yes, business. You see, I have just come from the Cosmopolitan Literary -Bureau." - -Fairfield did not look pleased. He had kept his connection with that -factory of hack-work a secret, and no man likes to be reminded of -unpleasant necessities. - -"They have told me," she went on, "that you revised the manuscript of my -novels. I must say that you have done it very satisfactorily. We women -of society are so occupied that it is impossible for us to attend to all -that mere detail work, and it is a great relief to have it so well -done." - -Fairfield bowed stiffly. - -"I am glad that you were satisfied," he replied; "but it is a violation -of confidence on the part of the bureau." - -"Oh, you are one of us now," Mrs. Croydon observed with gracious -condescension. "It isn't as if they had told anybody else. They told me, -you see, that you wrote 'Love in a Cloud.'" - -"That is a greater violation of confidence still," Fairfield responded. -"Indeed, it was a most un-gentlemanly thing of Mr. Cutliff. He only -knew it because a stupid errand boy carried him the manuscript by -mistake. He had no right to tell that. I shall give him my opinion of -his conduct." - -Mrs. Croydon accomplished a small whirlwind of ribbon ends, and waved -her plump hand in remonstrance. - -"Oh, I beg you won't," she protested. "It will get me into trouble if -you do. He especially told me not to let you know." - -Fairfield smiled rather sardonically. - -"The man who betrays a confidence is always foolish enough to suppose -his confidence will be sacred. I think this is an outrageous breach of -good faith on Mr. Cutliff's part." - -Mrs. Croydon gave a hitch forward as if she were trying to bring her -chair closer to that of Fairfield. - -"As I was saying," she remarked, "we society women have really so little -time to give to literature, and literature needs just our touch so much, -that it has been especially gratifying to find one that could carry out -my ideas so well." - -The young man began to regard her with a new expression in his face. As -a literary woman she should have recognized the look, the expression -which tells of the author on the scent of material. Whether Fairfield -ever tried his hand at painting Mrs. Croydon or not, that look would -have made it plain to any well-trained fellow worker that her -peculiarities tempted his literary sense. Any professional writer who -listens with that gleam in his eyes is inevitably examining what is -said, the manner of its saying, the person who is speaking, in the hope -that here he has a subject for his pen; he is asking himself if the -reality is too absurd to be credible; how much short of the extravagance -of the original he must come to keep within the bounds of seeming -probability. Fairfield was confronted with a subject which could not be -handled frankly and truthfully. Nobody would believe the tone of the -woman or her remarks to be anything but a foolish exaggeration; if she -had had the genuine creative instinct, the power of analysis, the -recognition of human peculiarities, Mrs. Croydon must have seen in his -evident preoccupation the indication that he was deliberating how far -toward the truth it would in fiction be possible to go. - -"It is very kind of you," he murmured vaguely. - -"Oh, don't mention it," responded she, more graciously than ever. "You -are really one of us now, as I said; and I always feel strongly the ties -of the literary guild." - -"The guild owes you a great deal," Fairfield observed blandly. - -Mrs. Croydon waved her hand engagingly in return for this compliment, -incidentally with a waving of various adornments of her raiment which -gave her the appearance in little of an army with banners. - -"I didn't come just for compliments," she observed with much sweetness. -"I am a business woman, and I know how to come to the point. My father -left me to manage my own property, and so I've had a good deal of -experience. When I see how women wander round a thing without being able -to get at it, it makes me ashamed of them all. I don't wonder that men -make fun of them." - -"You are hard on your sex." - -"Oh, no harder than they deserve. Why, in Chicago there are a lot of -women that do business in one way or another, and I never could abide -'em. I never could get on with them, it was so hard to pin them down." - -"I readily understand how annoying it must have been," Fairfield -observed with entire gravity. "Did you say that you had business with -me?" - -"Yes," she answered. "I suppose that I might have written, but there are -some things that are so much better arranged by word of mouth. Don't you -think so?" - -"Oh, there's no doubt of it." - -"Besides," she went on, "I wanted to tell you how much I like your work, -and it isn't easy to express those things on paper." - -It would be interesting to know whether to Fairfield at that moment -occurred the almost inevitable reflection that for Mrs. Croydon it was -hard, if her manuscripts were the test, to express anything on paper. - -"You are entirely right," he said politely. "It is easy enough to put -facts into words, but when it comes to feelings such as you express, it -is different, of course." - -He confided to Jack Neligage later that he wondered if this were not -too bold a flout, but Mrs. Croydon received it as graciously as -possible. - -"There is so complete a difference," she observed with an irrelevance -rather startling, "between the mental atmosphere in Boston and that I -was accustomed to in Chicago. Here there is a sort of--I don't know that -I can express it exactly; it's part of an older civilization, I suppose; -but I don't think it pays so well as what we have in Chicago." - -"Pays so well?" he repeated. "I don't think I understand." - -"It doesn't sell so well in a book," she explained. "I thought that it -would be better business to write stories of the East for the West to -buy; but I've about made up my mind that it'll be money in my pocket to -write of the West for the eastern market." - -Fairfield smiled under his big mustache, playing with a paper-knife. - -"Pardon my mentioning it," he said, "but I thought you wrote for fame, -and not for money." - -"Oh, I don't write for money, I assure you; but I was brought up to be a -business woman, and if I'm going to write books somebody ought to pay -for them. Now I wanted to ask you what you will sell me your part in -'Love in a Cloud' for." - -Whether this sudden introduction of her business or the nature of it -when introduced were the more startling it might have been hard to -determine. Certain it is that Fairfield started, and stared at his -visitor as if he doubted his ears. - -"My part of it?" he exclaimed. "Why, I wrote it." - -"Yes," she returned easily, "but so many persons have supposed it to be -mine, that it is extremely awkward to deny it; and you have become my -collaborateur, of course, by writing on the other novels." - -"I hadn't realized that," Dick returned with a smile. - -"You've put so much of your style into my other books," she pursued, -"that it's made people attribute 'Love in a Cloud' to me, and I think -you are bound now not to go back on me. I don't know as you see it as I -do, but it seems to me that since you took the liberty of changing so -much in my other stories you ought to be willing to bear the -consequences of it, especially as I'm willing to pay you well." - -"But as long as you didn't write the book," Dick observed, "I should -think you'd feel rather queer to have it said you did." - -"I've thought of that," Mrs. Croydon said, nodding, with a flutter of -silken tags, "but I reason that the ideas are so much my own, and the -book is so exactly what I would have written if social duties hadn't -prevented, that that ought not to count. The fact that so many folks -think I wrote it shows that I might have written it." - -"But after all you didn't write it," Fairfield objected. "That seems to -make it awkward." - -"Why, of course it would have been better if I had given you a sketch of -it," Mrs. Croydon returned, apparently entirely unmoved; "but then of -course you got so much of the spirit of 'Love in a Cloud' out of my -other books--" - -This was perhaps more than any author could be expected to endure, and -least of all a young author in the discussion of his first novel. - -"Why, how can you say that?" he demanded indignantly. - -"Do you suppose," she questioned with a benign and patronizing smile, -"that so many persons would have taken your book for mine in the first -place if you hadn't imitated me or taken ideas from my other books?" - -Dick sprang to his feet, and then sat down, controlling himself. - -"Well," he said coldly, "it makes no difference. It is too late to do -anything about it now. An edition of 'Love in a Cloud' with my name on -the title-page comes out next Wednesday. If folks say too much about the -resemblance to your books, I can confess, I suppose, my part in the -others." - -She turned upon him with a burst of surprise and indignation which set -all her ribbon-ends waving in protest. - -"That," she said, "is a professional secret. No man of honor would tell -it." - -She rose as she spoke, her face full of indignation. - -"You have not treated me fairly," she said bitterly. "You must have seen -that the book was attributed to me, and you knew the connection between -'Love in a Cloud' and my other books--" - -"Other books!" exclaimed Dick. - -Mrs. Croydon waved him into silence with a magnificent gesture, but -beyond that took no notice of his words. - -"You saw how everybody looked at me that day at Mrs. Harbinger's," she -went on. "If you were going to give your name to the book why didn't you -do it then?" - -"I didn't think of you at all," was his answer. "I was too much amused -in seeing that absurd Barnstable make a fool of himself with Count -Shimbowski. Did you know that the Count actually challenged him?" - -Wrath of celestial goddesses darkened the face of Mrs. Croydon as a -white squall blackens the face of the sky. Her eyes glared with an -expression as fierce if not as bright as the lightning. - -"What do you say?" she screamed. "Challenge my husband?" - -"Your husband!" ejaculated Dick, a staring statue of surprise. - -"Yes, my husband," she repeated vehemently. "He didn't make a fool of -himself that day! A man can't come to the defense of a woman but you men -sneer at him. Do you mean that that beastly foreign ape dared to -challenge him for that? I'd like to give him my opinion of him!" - -When a man finds himself entertaining a wildcat unawares he should -either expel the beast or himself take safety in flight. Dick could -apparently do neither. He stood speechless, gazing at the woman before -him, who seemed to be waxing in fury with every moment and every word. -She swept across the short space between them in a perfect hurricane of -streamers, and almost shook her fists in his face. - -"I understand it all now," she said. "You were in it from the beginning! -I suppose that when you worked on my books you took the trouble to find -out about me, and that's where your material came from for your precious -'Love in a Cloud.' Oh, my husband will deal with you!" - -Fairfield looked disconcerted enough, as well he might, confronted with -a woman who was apparently so carried away by anger as to have lost all -control of herself. - -"Mrs. Croydon," he said, with a coldness and a dignity which could not -but impress her, "I give you my word that I never knew anything about -your history. That was none of my business." - -"Of course it was none of your business!" she cried. "That's just what -makes it so impertinent of you to be meddling with my affairs!" - -Fairfield regarded her rather wildly. - -"Sit down, please," he said beseechingly. "You mustn't talk so, Mrs. -Croydon. Of course I haven't been meddling with your affairs, and--" - -"And not to have the courage to say a word to prevent my husband's being -dragged into a duel with that foreigner! Oh, it does seem as if I -couldn't express my opinion of you, Mr. Fairfield!" - -"My dear Mrs. Croydon--" - -"And as for Erastus Barnstable," she rushed on to say, "he's -quick-tempered, and eccentric, and obstinate, and as dull as a post; he -never understood me, but he always meant well; and I won't have him -abused." - -"I hadn't any idea of abusing him," Dick pleaded humbly. "Really, you -are talking in an extraordinary fashion." - -She stopped and glared at him as if with some gleam of returning reason. -Her face was crimson, and her breath came quickly. Women of society -outside of their own homes so seldom indulge in the luxury of an -unbecoming rage that Dick had perhaps never before seen such a display. -Any well-bred lady knows how to restrain herself within the bounds of -personal decorum, and to be the more effective by preserving some -appearance of calmness. Mrs. Croydon had evidently lacked in her youth -the elevating influence of society where good manners are morals. It was -interesting for Dick, but too extravagantly out of the common to be of -use to him professionally. - -"I hope you are proud of your politeness this morning," Mrs. Croydon -ended by saying; and without more adieu she fluttered tumultuously to -the door. - - - - -XXIV - -THE MISCHIEF OF A CAD - - -The fierce light of publicity which nowadays beats upon society has -greatly lessened the picturesqueness of life. There is no longer the -dusk favorable to crime, and the man who wishes to be wicked, if careful -of his social standing, is constantly obliged to be content with mere -folly, or, if desperate, with meanness. It is true that from time to -time there are still those, even in the most exclusive circles, who are -guilty of acts genuinely criminal, but these are not, as a rule, -regarded as being in good form. The days when the Borgias invited their -enemies to dinner for the express purpose of poisoning them, or visited -nobles rich in money or in beautiful wives and daughters with the -amiable intent to rob them of these treasures, are over, apparently -forever. In the sixteenth century--to name a time typical--success made -an excuse more than adequate for any moral obliquity; and the result is -that the age still serves thrillingly the romantic dramatist or -novel-writer. To-day success is held more than to justify iniquity in -politics or commerce, but the social world still keeps up some pretext -of not approving. There is in the best society really a good deal of -hesitation about inviting to dinner a man who has murdered his -grandmother or run away with the wife of his friend. Society is of -course not too austere in this respect; it strives to be reasonable, and -it recognizes the principle that every transaction is to be judged by -the laws of its own class. In the financial world, for instance, -conscience is regulated by the stock market, and society assumes that if -a crime has been committed for the sake of money its culpability depends -chiefly upon the smallness of the amount actually secured. Conservative -minds, however, still object to the social recognition of a man who has -notoriously and scandalously broken the commandments. He who has not the -skill or the good taste to display the fruits of his wickedness without -allowing the process by which they were obtained to be known, is looked -at askance by these prudish souls. In all this state of things is great -loss to the romancer, and not a little disadvantage to bold and -adventurous spirits. Were the latter but allowed the freedom which was -enjoyed by their forerunners of the sixteenth century, they would do -much to relieve the tedium under which to-day the best society -languishes. - -This tendency of the age toward the suppression of violent and romantic -transgressions in good society was undoubtedly largely responsible for -the course taken by Sibley Langdon. Foiled in his plan of blackmailing -Mrs. Neligage into being his companion on a European tour, he attempted -revenge in a way so petty that even the modern novelist, who stops at -nothing, would have regarded the thing as beneath invention. - -Mr. Langdon had sent Mrs. Neligage her canceled note, with a floridly -worded epistle declaring that its real value, though paid, was lost to -him, since it lay in her signature and not in the money which the -document represented. This being done, he had called once or twice, but -the ignominy of living at the top of a speaking-tube carries with it the -advantage of power to escape unwelcome callers, and he never found Mrs. -Neligage at home. When they met in society Mrs. Neligage treated him -with exactly the right shade of coolness. She did not give rise to any -gossip. The infallible intuition of her fellow women easily discovered, -of course, that there was an end of the old intimacy between the widow -and Mr. Langdon, but nobody had the satisfaction of being able to -perceive anything of the nature of a quarrel. - -They met one evening at a dinner given by Mrs. Chauncy Wilson. The -dinner was not large. There were Mr. and Mrs. Frostwinch, Mrs. Neligage, -Alice Endicott, Count Shimbowski, and Mr. Langdon. The company was -somewhat oddly assorted, but everybody understood that Mrs. Wilson did -as she pleased, leaving social considerations to take care of -themselves. She had promised Miss Wentstile, who still clung to the idea -of marrying Alice to the Count, that she would ask the pair to dinner; -and having done so, she selected her other guests by some principle of -choice known only to herself. - -The dinner passed off without especial incident. The Count took in -Alice, and was by her treated with a cool ease which showed that she -had come to regard him as of no consequence whatever. She chatted with -him pleasantly enough at the proper intervals, but more of her attention -was given to Mr. Frostwinch, her neighbor on the other side. She would -never talk with the Count in French, although she spoke that tongue with -ease, and his wooing, such as it was, had to be carried on in his -joint-broken English. The engagement of May Calthorpe and Dick -Fairfield, just announced, and the appearance of "Love in a Cloud" with -the author's name on the title-page, were the chief subjects of -conversation. The company were seated at a round table, so that the talk -was for the most part general, and each person had something to add to -the little ball of silken-fibred gossip as it rolled about. Mr. -Frostwinch was May's guardian, and a man of ideas too old-fashioned to -discuss his ward or her affairs in any but the most general way; yet -even he did now and then add a word or a hint. - -"They say," Mrs. Wilson observed, "that there's some kind of a romantic -story behind the engagement. Mrs. Neligage, you ought to know--is it -true that Richard Fairfield got Jack to go and propose for him?" - -"If he did," was the answer, "neither you nor I will ever know it from -Jack. He's the worst to get anything out of that I ever knew. I think he -has some sort of a trap-door in his memory to drop things through when -he doesn't want to tell them. I believe he contrives to forget them -himself." - -"You can't conceive of his holding them if he did remember them, I -suppose," chuckled Dr. Wilson. - -"Of course he couldn't. No mortal could." - -"That's as bad as my husband," observed Mrs. Frostwinch, with a billowy -motion of her neck, a movement characteristic and perhaps the result of -unconscious cerebration induced by a secret knowledge that her neck was -too long. "I tried to get out of him what Mr. Fairfield said when he -came to see him about May; and I give you my word that after I'd worn -myself to shreds trying to beguile him, I was no wiser than before." - -"I tell you so entirely all my own secrets, Anna," her husband answered, -"that you might let me keep those of other people." - -"Indeed, I can't help your keeping them," was her reply. "That's what I -complain of. If I only had a choice in the matter, I shouldn't mind." - -"If Jack Neligage is in the way of proposing," Langdon observed in his -deliberate manner, "I should think he'd do it for himself." - -"Oh, bless you," Mrs. Neligage responded quickly, "Jack can't afford to -marry. I've brought him up better than to suppose he could." - -"Happy the man that has so wise a mother," was Langdon's comment. - -"If you don't believe in marriages without money, Mrs. Neligage," asked -Mrs. Wilson, "what do you think of Ethel Mott and Thayer Kent?" - -"Just think of their marrying on nothing, and going out to live on a -cattle ranch," put in Mrs. Frostwinch. "I wonder if Ethel will have to -milk?" - -Dr. Wilson gave a laugh full of amusement. - -"They don't milk on cattle ranches," he corrected. "She may have to -mount a horse and help at a round-up, though." - -"Well, if she likes that kind of a burial," Mrs. Neligage said, "it's -her own affair, I suppose. I'd rather be cremated." - -"Oh, it isn't as bad as that," Mr. Frostwinch observed genially. -"They'll have a piano, and that means some sort of civilization." - -"I suppose she'll play the _ranz des vaches_ on the piano," Mrs. Wilson -laughed. - -"Of course it's madness," Langdon observed, "but they'll like it for a -while. I can't understand, though, how Miss Mott can be so foolish. I -always supposed she was rather a sensible girl." - -"Does this prove that she isn't?" asked Alice. - -"Don't you think a girl that leaves civilization, and goes to live in -the wilderness just to follow a man, shows a lack of cleverness?" - -The seriousness of the tone in which Alice had asked her question had -drawn all eyes in her direction, and it might easily be that the -knowledge of the interest which she was supposed to have in penniless -Jack Neligage would in any case have given to her words especial mark. - -"That depends on what life is for," Alice answered now, in her low, even -voice. "If she is happier with Thayer Kent on a cattle ranch than she -would be anywhere else without him, I think she shows the best kind of -sense." - -"But think what a stupid life she'll lead," Langdon persisted. "She -doesn't know what she's giving up." - -"Eet ees _tres romanesque_," declared the Count, "but eet weel to -be _triste_. Weell she truthfully ride de cow?" - -Politely veiled laughter greeted this sally, except from Dr. Wilson, who -burst into an open guffaw. - -"She'll be worth seeing if she does!" he ejaculated. - -Mrs. Frostwinch bent toward Alice with undulating neck. - -"You are romantic, of course, Alice," she remarked, "and you look at it -like a girl. It's very charming to be above matter-of-fact -considerations; but when the edge is worn off--" - -She sighed, and shook her head as if she were deeply versed in all the -misfortunes resulting from an impecunious match; her manner being, of -course, the more effective from the fact that everybody knew that she -had never been able to spend her income. - -"But what is life for?" Alice said with heightened color. "If people are -happy together, I don't believe that other things matter so much." - -"For my part," Mrs. Wilson declared, "I think it will be stunning! I -wish I were going out to live on a ranch myself, and ride a cow, as the -Count says. Chauncy, why don't we buy a ranch? Think how I'd look on -cow-back!" - -She gave the signal to rise, and the ladies departed to the -drawing-room, where they talked of many things and of nothing until the -gentlemen appeared. Mr. Langdon placed himself so that he faced Mrs. -Neligage across the little circle in which the company chanced to -arrange itself. - -"We've been talking of adventures," he said, "and Mr. Frostwinch says -that nobody has any nowadays." - -"I only said that they were uncommon," corrected Mr. Frostwinch. "Of -course men do have them now and then, but not very often." - -"Men! Yes, they have them," Mrs. Wilson declared; "but there's no chance -nowadays for us poor women. We never get within sight of anything out of -the common." - -"You're enough out of the common to do without it, Elsie," laughed her -husband. - -"Madame Weelson ees an adventure eetself," the Count put in gallantly. - -Mr. Langdon raised his head deliberately, and looked over to Mrs. -Neligage. - -"You could tell them differently, Mrs. Neligage," he said. "Your -experience at Monte Carlo, now; that was far enough out of the common." - -Her color went suddenly, but she met his eyes firmly enough. - -"My adventures?" she returned. "I never had an adventure. I'm too -commonplace a person for that." - -"You don't do yourself justice," Langdon rejoined. "You haven't any -idea how picturesque you were that night." - -Telepathy may or may not be established on a scientific basis, but it is -certain that there exists some occult power in virtue of which -intelligence spreads without tangible means of communication. There was -nothing in the light, even tones of Langdon to convey more intimation -than did his words that mischief was afoot, yet over the group in Mrs. -Wilson's drawing-room came an air of intentness, of alert suspense. No -observer could have failed to perceive the general feeling, the -perception that Langdon was preparing for some unusual stroke. The -atmosphere grew electric. Mr. Frostwinch and his wife became a shade -more grave than was their wont. They were both rather proper folk, and -proper people are obliged to be continually watching for indecorums, -lest before they are aware their propriety have its fine bloom brushed -away. The Count moved uneasily in his chair. The unpleasant doubts to -which he had been exposed as to how his own past would affect a Boston -public might have made him the more sympathetic with Mrs. Neligage, and -the fact that he had seen her at the tables at Monte Carlo could hardly -fail to add for him a peculiar vividness to Langdon's words. Doctor and -Mrs. Wilson were both openly eager. Alice watched Mrs. Neligage -intently, while the widow faced Langdon with growing pallor. - -"Madame Neleegaze ees all teemes de peecture," declared Count Shimbowski -gallantly. "When more one teeme eet ees de oder?" - -"She was more picturesque that time than another," laughed Langdon, by -some amazing perception getting at the Count's meaning. "I'm going to -tell it, Mrs. Neligage, just to show what you are capable of. I never -admired anything more than I did your pluck that night. It's nonsense to -say that women have less grit than men." - -"Less grit!" cried Mrs. Wilson. "They have a hundred times more. If men -had the spunk of women or women had the strength of men--" - -"Then amen to the world!" broke in her husband. "Don't interrupt. I want -to hear Langdon's story." - -Alice Endicott had thus far said nothing, but as Langdon smiled as if to -himself, and parted his lips to begin, she stopped him. - -"No," she said, "he shan't tell it. If it is Mrs. Neligage's adventure, -she shall tell it herself." - -Mrs. Neligage flashed a look of instant comprehension, of gratitude, to -Alice, and the color came back into her cheeks. She had been half -cowering before the possibility of what Langdon might be intending to -say, but this chance of taking matters into her own hands recalled all -her self-command. Her eyes brightened, and she lifted her head. - -"It isn't much to tell," she began, "and it isn't at all to my credit." - -"I protest," interpolated Langdon. "Of course she won't tell a story -about herself for half its worth." - -"Be quiet," Alice commanded. - -The eyes of all had been turned toward Mrs. Neligage at her last words, -but now everybody looked at Alice. It was not common to see her take -this air of really meaning to dominate. In her manner was a faint hint -of the commanding manner of her aunt, although without any trace of Miss -Wentstile's arrogance. She was entirely cool and self-possessed, -although her color was somewhat brighter than usual. The words that had -been spoken were little, yet the hearer heard behind them the conflict -between herself and Langdon. - -"I am not to be put down so," he persisted. "I don't care much about -telling that particular story, but I can't allow you to bully me so, -Miss Endicott." - -"Go on, Mrs. Neligage, please," Alice said, quite as if she were -mistress of ceremonies, and entirely ignoring Langdon's words except for -a faint smile toward him. - -"My adventure, as Mr. Langdon is pleased to call it," Mrs. Neligage -said, "is only a thing I'm ashamed of. He is trying to make me confess -my sins in public, apparently. He came on me one night playing at Monte -Carlo when I lost a lot of money. He declares he watched me an hour -before I saw him, but as I didn't play more than half that time--" - -"I told you she would spoil the story," interrupted Langdon, "I--" - -"You shall not interrupt, Mr. Langdon," Alice said, as evenly and as -commandingly as before. - -"Oh, everybody he play at Monte Carlo," put in the Count. "Not to play, -one have not been dere." - -"I've played," Mrs. Wilson responded. "I think it's the greatest fun in -the world. Did you win, Mrs. Neligage?" - -"Win, my dear," returned the widow, who had recovered perfectly her -self-command; "I lost all that I possessed and most that I didn't. I -wonder I ever got out of the place. The truth is that I had to borrow -from Mr. Langdon to tide me over till I could raise funds. Was that what -you wanted to tell, Mr. Langdon? You were the real hero to lend it to -me, for I might have gone to playing again, and lost that too." - -Langdon was visibly disconcerted. To have the tables so turned that it -seemed as if he were seeking a chance to exploit his own good deeds left -him at the mercy of the widow. Mrs. Neligage had told in a way -everything except the matter of the necklace, and no man with any -pretense of being a gentleman could drag that in now. It might have been -slid picturesquely into the original story, whether that were or were -not Mr. Langdon's intention; but now it was too late. - -"I don't see where the pluck came in," pronounced Dr. Wilson. - -"Oh, I suppose that was the stupid way in which I kept on losing," Mrs. -Neligage explained. "I call it perfect folly." - -"Again I say that I knew she'd spoil the story," Langdon said with a -smile. - -The announcement of carriages, and the departure of the Frostwinches -brought the talk to an end. When Mrs. Neligage had said good-night and -was leaving the drawing-room, Langdon stood at the door. - -"You got out of that well," he said. - -She gave him a look which should have withered him. - -"It is a brave man that tries to blacken a woman's name," she answered; -and went on her way. - -In the dressing-room was Alice, who had gone a moment before. Mrs. -Neligage went up to her and took her by the arms. - -"How did you know that I needed to have a plank thrown to me?" she -demanded. "Did I show it so much?" - -Alice flushed and smiled. - -"If I must tell the truth," she answered, "you looked just as I saw Jack -look once in a hard place." - -Mrs. Neligage laughed, and kissed her. - -"Then it was Jack's mother you wanted to help. You are an angel anyhow. -I had really lost my head. The story was horrid, and I knew he'd tell it -or hint it. It wasn't so bad," she added, as Alice half shrank back, -"but that I'll tell it to you some time. Jack knows it." - - - - -XXV - -THE WAKING OF A SPINSTER - - -Miss Wentstile was as accustomed to having her way as the sun is to -rising. She had made up her mind that Alice was to marry Count -Shimbowski, and what was more, she had made her intention perfectly -plain to her friends. It is easily to be understood that her temper was -a good deal tried when it became evident that she could not force her -niece to yield. Miss Wentstile commanded, she remonstrated, she tried to -carry her will with a high hand by assuming that Alice was betrothed, -and she found herself in the end utterly foiled. - -"Then you mean to disobey me entirely," she said to Alice one day. - -"I have tried all my life to do what you wanted, Aunt Sarah," was the -answer, "but this I can't do." - -"You could do it if you chose." - -Alice was silent; and to remain silent when one should offer some sort -of a remark that may be disputed or found fault with or turned into -ridicule is one of the most odious forms of insubordination. - -"Why don't you speak?" demanded Miss Wentstile sharply. "Haven't I done -enough for you to be able to get a civil answer out of you?" - -"What is there for me to say more, Aunt Sarah?" - -"You ought to say that you would not vex and disobey me any more," -declared her Aunt. "Here I have told everybody that I should pass next -summer at the Count's ancestral castle in Hungary, and how can I if you -won't marry him?" - -"You might marry him yourself." - -Her aunt glared at her angrily, and emitted a most unladylike snort of -contempt. - -"You say that to be nasty," she retorted; "but I tell you, miss, that -I've thought of that myself. I'm not sure I shan't marry him." - -Alice regarded her in a silence which drew forth a fresh volley. - -"I suppose you think that's absurd, do you? Why don't you say that I'm -too old, and too ugly, and too ridiculous? Why don't you say it? I can -see that you think it; and a nice thing it is to think, too." - -"If you think it, Aunt Sarah," was the demure reply, "there's no need of -my saying it." - -"I think it? I don't think it! I'm pleased to know at last what you -think of me, with your meek ways." - -The scene was more violent than usually happened between aunt and niece, -as it was the habit of Alice to bear in silence whatever rudeness it -pleased Miss Wentstile to inflict. Not that the spinster was accustomed -to be unkind to the girl. So long as there was no opposition to her -will, Miss Wentstile was in her brusque way generous and not -ill-natured. Now that her temper was tried to the extreme, her worst -side made itself evident; and Alice was wise in attempting to escape. -She rose from the place where she had been sewing, and prepared to leave -the room. - -"Go to your room by all means," the spinster said bitterly, regarding -her with looks of marked disfavor. "All I have to say is this: if I do -marry the Count, and you find yourself without a home, you'll have -nobody but yourself to thank for it. I'm sure you've had your chance." - -Whether the antique heart of the spinster had cherished the design of -attempting to glide into the place in the Count's life left vacant by -the refusal of her niece is a fact known only to her attendant angels, -if she had any. Certain it is that within twenty-four hours she had -summoned that nobleman to her august presence. - -"Count," she said to him, "I can't express to you how distressed I am -that my niece has put such a slight on you. She is absolutely determined -not to marry." - -The Count as usual shrugged his shoulders, and remarked in mangled -English that in America there was no authority; and that in his country -the girl would not have been asked whether she was determined to marry -or not. Her determination would have made no difference. - -"That is the way it should be here," Miss Wentstile observed with -feeling; "but it isn't. The young people are brought up to have their -own way, no matter what their elders wish." - -"Then she weell not to marry wid me?" he asked. - -"No, there's no hope of it. She is as obstinate as a rock." - -There was a brief interval of silence in which the Count looked at Miss -Wentstile and Miss Wentstile looked at the floor. - -"Count Shimbowski," she said at last, raising her eyes, "of course it -doesn't make much difference to you who it is you marry if you get the -money." - -He gave a smile half of deprecation, and spread out his hands. - -"One Shimbowski for de _dot_ marries," he acknowledged, "but eet ees not -wid all weemeens. Dat ees not honor." - -"Oh, of course I mean if your wife was a lady." - -"Eet ees for de _dot_ only one Shimbowski would wid all Amereecans -marry," he returned with simple pride. - -Miss Wentstile regarded him with a questioning look. - -"I am older than my niece," she went on, "but my _dot_ would be half a -million." - -The whole thing was so entirely a matter of business that perhaps it was -not strange that she spoke with so little sign of emotion. Most women, -it is true, would hardly come so near to proposing to a man without some -frivolous airs of coquetry; but Miss Wentstile was a remarkable and -exceptional woman, and her air was much that in which she might have -talked of building a new house. - -"Ees eet dat de wonderful Mees Wentsteele would marry wid me for all dat -_dot_?" - -Miss Wentstile took him up somewhat quickly. - -"I don't say that I would, Count," she returned; "but since you've been -treated so badly by my niece, I thought I would talk with you to see how -the idea struck you." - -"Oh, eet weell be heavenly sweet to know what we weell be mine for all -dat _dot_," the Count asserted, bowing with his hand on his heart. - -She smiled somewhat acidly, and yet not so forbiddingly as to daunt him. - -"If we are yours what is there left for me?" she asked. - -"Ah," the Count sighed, with a shake of his head, "dat Engleesh--" - -"Never mind," she interrupted, "I understand that if I do marry you I -get the name and not much else." - -"But de name!" he cried with fervor. "De Shimbowski name! Oh, eet ees -dat de name weell be older dan dere was any mans een dees country." - -"I dare say that is true," she responded, smiling more pleasantly. "My -sentiments for the name are warm enough." - -"De _sentiments_ of de esteemfully Mees Wentsteele ees proud for me," he -declared, rising to bow. "Ees eet dat we weell marry wid me? Mees -Wentsteele ees more detracteeve for me wid her _dot_ dan Mees Endeecott. -Eet ees mooch more detracteeve." - -"Well," Miss Wentstile said, rising also, "I thought I would see how the -idea struck you. I haven't made up my mind. My friends would say I was -an old fool, but I can please myself, thank heaven." - -The Count took her hand and bowed over it with all his courtly grace, -kissing it respectfully. - -"Ah," he told her, echoing her words with unfortunate precision, "one -old fool ees so heavenly keend!" - -Miss Wentstile started, but the innocence of his intention was evident, -and she offered no correction. She bade him good-by with a beaming -kindness, and for the rest of the day carried herself with the conscious -pride of a woman who could be married if she would. - -For the next few days there was about Miss Wentstile a new atmosphere. -She snubbed her niece with an air of pride entirely different from her -old manner. She dropped hints about there being likely to be a title in -the family after all, and as there could be no mystery what she must -mean she attempted mystification by seeming to know things about the -Count and his family more magnificent than her niece had ever dreamed -of. She sent to a school of languages for an instructor in Hungarian, -and when none was to be found at once, she purchased a grammar, and -ostentatiously studied it before Alice. Altogether she behaved as -idiotically as possible, and whether she really intended to go to the -extreme of marrying Count Shimbowski and endowing him with her fortune -or not, she at least contrived to make her friends believe that she was -prepared to go to any length in her absurdity. - -The announcement of the engagement of Dick Fairfield and May Calthorpe, -which was made at once, of course produced the usual round of -congratulatory festivities. May, as it is the moral duty of every -self-respecting Bostonian to be, was related to everybody who was -socially anybody, and great were the number of dinners which celebrated -her decision to marry. It was too late in the season for balls, but that -was of little consequence when she and her betrothed could have dined in -half a dozen places on the same night had the thing been physically -possible. - -The real purpose of offering multitudinous dinners to a couple newly -engaged has never been fully made clear. On first thought it might seem -as if kindness to young folk newly come to a knowledge of mutual love -were best shown by letting them alone to enjoy the transports inevitable -to their condition. Society has decided otherwise, and keeps them during -the early days of their betrothal as constantly as possible in the -public eye. Whether this custom is the result of a fear lest the lovers, -if left to themselves, might too quickly exhaust their store of -fondness, or of a desire to enhance for each the value of the other by a -display of general appreciation, were not easy to decide. A cynic might -suggest that older persons feel the wisdom of preventing the possibility -of too much reflection, or that they give all publicity to the -engagement as a means of lessening the chances of any failure of -contract. More kindly disposed reasoners might maintain that these -abundant festivities are but testimony to the truth of Emerson's -declaration that "all the world loves a lover." Philosophy, in the mean -time, leaning neither to cynicism on the one hand nor to over-optimism -on the other, can see in these social functions at least the visible -sign that society instinctively recognizes in the proposed union a -contract really public, since while men and women love for themselves -they marry for the state. - -Alice Endicott and Jack Neligage were naturally asked to many of these -dinners, and so it came about that they saw a good deal of each other -during the next few weeks. Their recent disagreement at first bred a -faint coolness between them, but Jack was too good-natured long to keep -up even the pretense of malice, and Alice too forgiving to cherish -anger. The need, too, of hiding from the public all unpleasantness would -in any case have made it necessary for them to behave as usual, and it -is one of the virtues of social conventions that the need of being -outwardly civil is apt to blunt the edge of secret resentments. Of -course a healthy and genuine hate may be nourished by the irksomeness of -enforced suavity, but trifling pique dies a natural death under outward -politeness. Alice and Jack were not only soon as friendly as ever, but -either from the reaction following their slight misunderstanding or from -the effect of the sentimental atmosphere which always surrounds an -engaged couple, their attitude became more confidential and friendly -than ever. - -They sat side by side at a dinner in which the Harbingers were -officially testifying their satisfaction in the newly announced -engagement. Jack had been doing his duty to the lady on the other side, -and turned his face to Alice. - -"What is worrying you?" he asked, his voice a little lowered. - -She looked at him with a smile. - -"What do you mean by that?" she asked. "I was flattering myself that I'd -been particularly frolicsome all the evening." - -"You have; that's just it." - -"What do you mean by that?" - -"I mean that you've had to try." - -"You must have watched me pretty closely," she remarked, flushing a -little, and lowering her glance. - -"Oh, I know you so well that I don't need to; but to be sure I have kept -my eyes on you." - -She played with her fork as if thinking, while his look was fixed on her -face. - -"I didn't think I was so transparent," she said. "Do you suppose other -people noticed me?" - -"Oh, no," he responded. "You don't give me credit for my keenness of -perception. But what's the row?" - -"Nothing," was her answer, "only--Well, the truth is that I've had a -talk with Aunt Sarah that wasn't very pleasant. Jack, I believe she's -going to marry the Count." - -"I'm glad of it," was his laughing response. "He'll make her pay for all -the nasty things she has done. He'll be a sort of public avenger." - -Alice became graver. She shook her head, smiling, but with evident -disapproval. - -"You promised me long ago that you wouldn't say things against Aunt -Sarah." - -"No, I never did," he declared impenitently. "I only said that I'd try -not to say things to you about her that would hurt your feelings." - -"Well, weren't you saying them then?" - -"That depends entirely upon your feelings; but if they are so sensitive, -I'll say I am delighted that the 'venerated Mees Wentsteele,' as the -Count calls her, is at last to be benefited by the discipline of having -a master." - -Alice laughed in spite of herself. - -"She won't enjoy that," she declared. "Poor Aunt Sarah, she's been very -kind to me, Jack. She's really good-hearted." - -"You can't tell from the outside of a chestnut burr what kind of a nut -is inside of it," retorted he; "but if you say she is sound, it goes. -She's got the outside of the burr all right." - -The servant with a fresh course briefly interrupted, and when they had -successfully dodged his platter Jack went back to the subject. - -"Is it proper to ask what there was in your talk that was especially -unpleasant,--not meaning that she was unpleasant, of course, but only -that with your readiness to take offense you might have found something -out of the way." - -Alice smiled faintly as if the question was too closely allied to -painful thoughts to allow of her being amused. - -"She is still angry with me," she said. - -"For giving her a husband? She's grateful." - -"No, it isn't that. She can't get over my not doing what she wanted." - -"You've done what she wanted too long. She's spoiled. She thinks she -owns you." - -"Of course it's hard for her," Alice murmured. - -"Hard for her? It's just what she needed. What is she going to do about -it I'd like to know?" - -Alice looked at him with a wistful gravity. - -"If I tell you a secret," she said in a low tone, "can I trust you?" - -"Of course you can," was the answer. "I should think that by this time, -after May's engagement, you'd know I can keep still when I've a mind -to." - -Jack's chuckle did not call a smile to her face now. She had evidently -forgotten for the moment the need of keeping up a smiling appearance in -public; her long lashes drooped over cheeks that had little color in -them, and her mouth was grave. - -"She was very severe to-night," Alice confided to her companion. "She -said--Oh, Jack, what am I to do if she goes away and leaves me without a -home? She said that as of course I shouldn't want to go with her to -Hungary, she didn't know what would become of me. She wanted to know if -I could earn my living." - -"The infernal old--" began Jack; then he checked himself in time, and -added: "You shall never want a home while--" but an interruption stopped -him. - -"Jack," called Tom Harbinger from the other end of the table, "didn't -the Count say: 'Stones of a feather gather no rolls'?" - -The society mask slipped in a flash over the faces of Alice and Jack. -The latter had ready instantly a breezy laugh which might have disarmed -suspicion if any of the company had seen his recent gravity. - -"Oh, Tom," he returned, "it wasn't so bad as that. He said: 'Birds of -one feder flock to get eet.' I wish I had a short-hand report of all his -sayings." - -"He told me at the club," put in Mrs. Harbinger, improving on the fact -by the insertion of an article, "that Miss Wentstile was 'an -ext'rdeenaire particle.' I hope you don't mind, Alice?" - -"Nothing that the Count says could affect me," was the answer. - -Having the eyes of the ladies in her direction, Mrs. Harbinger improved -the opportunity to give the signal to rise, and the talk between Alice -and Jack was for that evening broken off. - - - - -XXVI - -THE WOOING OF A WIDOW - - -"Jack," Mrs. Neligage observed one morning when her son had dropped in, -"I hope you won't mind, but I've decided to marry Harry Bradish." - -Jack frowned slightly, then smiled. Probably no man is ever greatly -pleased by the idea that his mother is to remarry; but Jack was of -accommodating temper, and moreover was not without the common sense -necessary for the acceptance of the unpalatable. He trimmed the ashes -from the cigarette he was smoking, took a whiff, and sent out into the -air an unusually neat smoke-ring. He sat with his eyes fixed upon the -involving wreath until it was shattered upon the ceiling and its frail -substance dissolved in air. - -"Does Bradish know it?" he inquired. - -"Oh, he doesn't suspect it," answered she. "He'll never have an idea of -such a thing till I tell him, and then he won't believe it." - -Jack laughed, blew another most satisfactory smoke-ring, and again with -much deliberation watched it ascend to its destruction. - -"Then you don't expect him to ask you?" he propounded at length. - -"Ask me, Jack? He never could get up the courage. He'd lie down and die -for me, but as for proposing--No, if there is to be any proposing I'm -afraid I should have to do it; so we shall have to get on without." - -"It wouldn't be decorous for me to ask how you mean to manage, I -suppose." - -"Oh, ask by all means if you want to, Jacky dear; but never a word shall -I tell you. All I want of you is to say you aren't too much cut up at -the idea." - -"I've brought you up so much to have your own way," Jack returned in a -leisurely fashion, "that I'm afraid it's too late to begin now to try to -control you. I wish you luck." - -They were silent for some minutes. Mrs. Neligage had been mending a -glove for her son, and when she had finished it, she rose and brought it -to him. She stood a minute regarding him with an unwonted softness in -her glance. - -"Dear boy," she said, with a tender note in her voice, "I haven't -thanked you for the money you sent Langdon." - -He threw his cigarette away, half turning his face from her as he did -so. - -"It's no use to bring that up again," he said. "I'm only sorry I -couldn't have the satisfaction of kicking him." - -She shook her head. - -"I've wanted you to a good many times," returned she, "but that's a -luxury that we couldn't afford. It would cost too much." She hesitated a -moment, and added: "It must have left you awfully hard up, Jack." - -"Oh, I'm going into the bank. I'm a reformed man, you know, so that -doesn't matter. If I can't play polo what good is money?" - -His mother sighed. - -"I do wish Providence would take my advice about giving the money -round," she remarked impatiently. "Things would be a great deal better -arranged." - -"For us they would, I've no doubt," he assented with a grin. - -"When do you go into that beastly old bank?" she asked. - -"First of the month. After all it won't be so much worse than being -married." - -"You must be awfully hard up," she said once more regretfully. - -"Oh, I'm always hard up. Don't bother about that." - -She stooped forward and kissed him lightly, an unusual demonstration on -her part, and stood brushing the crisp locks back from his forehead. He -took her hand and pulled her down to kiss her in turn. - -"Really, mater," he observed, still holding her hand, "we're getting -quite spoony. Does the idea of marrying Harry Bradish make you -sentimental?" - -She smiled and did not answer, but withdrew her hand and returned to her -seat by the window. She took up a bit of sewing, and folded down on the -edge of the lawn a tiny hem. - -"When I am married," she observed, the faint suspicion of a blush -coming into her cheek, "I can pay that money back to you. Harry is rich -enough, and generous enough." - -Jack stopped in the lighting of a fresh cigarette, and regarded her -keenly. - -"Mother," he said in a voice of new seriousness, "are you marrying him -to get that money for me?" - -"I mean to get it for you," she returned, without looking up. - -Again he began to send rings of smoke to break on the ceiling above, and -meanwhile she fixed her attention on her sewing. The noise of the -carriages outside, the profanity of the English sparrows quarreling on -the trees, and the sound of a distant street-organ playing "Cavalleria" -came in through the open window. - -"Mother," he said, "I won't have it." - -"Won't have what?" - -"I won't have you marry Harry Bradish." - -"Why not?" - -"Do you think," he urged, with some heat, "that I don't see through the -whole thing? You are bound to help me out, and I won't have you do it." - -The widow let her sewing fall into her lap, and turned her face to the -window. - -"How will you help it?" she asked softly. - -"I'll stop it in one way or another. I tell you--" - -But she turned toward him a face full of confusion and laughter. - -"Oh, Jack, you old goose, I've been fond of Harry Bradish for years, -only I didn't dare show it because--" - -"Because what?" - -"Because Sibley Langdon was so nasty if I did," she returned, her tone -hardening. "You don't know," she went on, the tone changing again like a -flute-note, "what a perfect dear Harry is. I've teased him, and snubbed -him, and bullied him, and treated him generally like a fiend, and he's -been as patient, and as sweet--Why, Jack, he's a saint beside me! He's -awkward, and as stupid as a frog, but he's as good as gold." - -Jack's face had darkened at the mention of Langdon, but it cleared -again, and his sunny smile came back once more. He sent out a great -cloud of smoke with an entire disregard of the possibilities of artistic -ring-making which he sacrificed, and chuckled gleefully. - -"All right, mater," he said, "if that's the state of things I've nothing -more to say. You may even fleece him for my benefit if you want to." - -He rose as he spoke, and went over to where his mother was sitting. With -heightened color, she had picked up her sewing, and bent over it so that -her face was half hidden. - -"Who supposed there was so much sentiment in the family," he remarked. -"Well, I must go down town. Good-by. I wish you joy." - -They kissed each other with a tenderness not customary, for neither was -much given to sentimental demonstrations; and Jack went his way. - -It has been remarked by writers tinged with cynicism that a widow who -wishes to remarry is generally able to do a large part of whatever -wooing is necessary. In the present case, where the lady had frankly -avowed her intention of doing the whole, there was no reason why the -culmination should be long delayed. One day soon after the interview -between Mrs. Neligage and her son, the widow and Harry Bradish were at -the County Club when they chanced to come into the parlor just in time -to discover May Calthorpe and Dick Fairfield, when the lover was kissing -his lady's hand. Mrs. Neligage was entirely equal to the situation. - -"Yes, Mr. Bradish," she observed, looking upward, "you were right, this -ceiling is very ugly." - -"I didn't say anything about the ceiling," he returned, gazing up in -amazement, while Dick and May slipped out at another door. - -She turned to him with a countenance of mischief. - -"Then you should have said it, stupid!" she exclaimed. "Didn't you see -Dick and May?" - -"I saw them go out. What of it?" - -"Really, Harry," she said, falling into the name which she had called -him in her girlhood, "you should have your wits about you when you -stumble on young lovers in a sentimental attitude." - -"I didn't see what they were doing. I was behind you." - -"Oh, he had her hand," explained she, extending hers. - -Bradish took it shyly, looking confused and mystified. The widow laughed -in his face. - -"What are you laughing at?" he asked. - -"What do you suppose he was doing?" Mrs. Neligage demanded. "Now you -have my hand, what are you going to do with it?" - -He dropped her hand in confusion. - -"I--I just took it because you gave it to me," he stammered. "I was only -going--I was going to--" - -"Then why in the world didn't you?" she laughed, moving quickly away -toward the window which opened upon the piazza. - -"But I will now," he exclaimed, striding after. - -"Oh, now it is too late," she declared teasingly. "A woman is like time. -She must be taken by the forelock." - -"But, Mrs. Neligage, Louisa, I was afraid of offending you!" - -"Nothing offends a woman so much as to be afraid of offending her," was -her oracular reply, as she flitted over the sill. - -All the way into town that sunny April afternoon Harry Bradish was -unusually silent. While Mrs. Neligage, in the highest spirits, rattled -on with jest, or chat, or story, he replied in monosyllables or in the -briefest phrases compatible with politeness. He was evidently thinking -deeply. The very droop of his yellow mustaches showed that. The presence -of the trig little groom at the back of the trap was a sufficient reason -why Bradish should not then deliver up any confidential disclosures in -regard to the nature of his cogitations, but from time to time he -glanced at the widow with the air of having her constantly in his -thoughts. - -Bradish was the most kindly of creatures, and withal one of the most -self-distrustful. He was so transparent that there was nothing -surprising in the ease with which one so astute as Mrs. Neligage might -read his mood if she were so disposed. He cast upon her looks of inquiry -or doubt which she gave no sign of perceiving, or now and then of -bewilderment as if he had come in his thought to a question which -puzzled him completely. During the entire drive he was obviously -struggling after some mental adjustment or endeavoring to solve some -deep and complicated problem. - -The day was enchanting, and in the air was the exciting stir of spring -which turns lightly the young man's fancy to thoughts of love. Whether -Bradish felt its influence or not, he had at least the air of a man -emotionally much stirred. Mrs. Neligage looked more alert, more -provoking, more piquant, than ever. She had, it is true, an aspect less -sentimental than that of her companion, but nature had given to Harry -Bradish a likeness to Don Quixote which made it impossible for him ever -to appear mischievous or sportive, and if he showed feeling it must be -of the kindly or the melancholy sort. The widow might be reflecting on -the effectiveness of the turnout, the fineness of the horses, the -general air of style and completeness which belonged to the equipage, or -she might be ruminating on the character of the driver. She might on -the other hand have been thinking of nothing in particular except the -light things she was saying,--if indeed it is possible to suppose that a -clever woman ever confines her thoughts to what is indicated by her -words. Bradish, however, was evidently meditating of her. - -When he had brought the horses with a proper flourish to Mrs. Neligage's -door, Bradish descended and helped her out with all his careful -politeness of manner. He was a man to whom courtesy was instinctive. At -the stake he would have apologized to the executioner for being a -trouble. He might to-day be absorbed and perplexed, but he was not for -that less punctiliously attentive. - -"May I come in?" he asked, hat in hand. - -"By all means," Mrs. Neligage responded. "Come in, and I'll give you a -cup of tea." - -Bradish sent the trap away with the satisfactory groom, and then -accompanied his companion upstairs. They were no sooner inside the door -of her apartment than he turned to the widow with an air of sudden -determination. - -"Louisa," he said with awkward abruptness, "what did you mean this -afternoon?" - -He grasped her hands with both his; his hat, which he had half tossed -upon the table, went bowling merrily over the floor, but he gave it no -heed. - -"Good gracious, Harry," she cried, laughing up into his face, "how -tragic you are! Pick up your hat." - -He glanced at the hat, but he did not release her hands. He let her -remark pass, and went on with increasing intensity which was not unmixed -with wistfulness. - -"I've been thinking about it all the way home," he declared. "You've -always teased me, Louisa, from the days we were babies, and of course -I'm an old fool; but--Were you willing I should kiss your hand?" - -He stopped in speechless confusion, the color coming into his cheeks, -and looked pathetically into her laughing face. - -"Lots of men have," she responded. - -He dropped her hands, and grew paler. - -"But to-day--" he stammered. - -"But what to-day?" she cried, moving near to him. - -"I thought that to-day--Louisa, for heaven's sake, do you care for me?" - -"Not for heaven's sake," she murmured, looking younger and more -bewitching than ever. - -Some women at forty-five are by Providence allowed still to look as -young as their children, and Mrs. Neligage was one of them. Her airs -would perhaps have been ridiculous in one less youthful in appearance, -but she carried them off perfectly. Bradish was evidently too completely -and tragically in earnest to see the point of her quip. He looked so -disappointed and abashed that it was not strange for her to burst into a -peal of laughter. - -"Oh, Harry," she cried, "you are such a dear old goose! Must I say it in -words? Well, then; here goes, despite modesty! Take me!" - -He stared at her as if in doubt of his senses. - -"Do you mean it?" he stammered. - -"I do at this minute, but if you're not quick I may change my mind!" - -Then Harry Bradish experienced a tremendous reaction from the excessive -shyness of nearly half a century, and gathered her into his arms. - - - - -XXVII - -THE CLIMAX OF COMEDY - - -Society has always a kindly feeling toward any person who furnishes -material for talk. Even in those unhappy cases where the matter provided -to the gossips is of an iniquitous sort, it is not easy utterly to -condemn evil which has added a pleasant spice to conversation. It is -true that in word the sinner may be entirely disapproved, but the -disapproval is apt to be tempered by an evident feeling of gratitude for -the excitement which the sin has provided to talkers. In lighter -matters, where there is no reason to regard with reprobation the course -discussed, the friendliness of the gossips is often covered with a sauce -piquant of doubtful insinuation, of sneer, or of ridicule, but in -reality it is evident that those who abuse do so, like Lady Teazle, in -pure good nature. To be talked about in society is really to be awarded -for the time being such interest as society is able to feel; and the -interest of society is its only regard. - -The engagement of Mrs. Neligage to Harry Bradish naturally set the -tongues of all their acquaintances wagging, and many pretty things were -said of the couple which were not entirely complimentary. The loves of -elderly folk always present to the eyes of the younger generation an -aspect somewhat ludicrous, and the buds giggled at the idea of nuptials -which to their infantine minds seemed so venerable. The women pitied -Bradish, who had been captured by the wiles of the widow, and the men -thought it a pity that so gifted and dashing a woman as Mrs. Neligage -should be united to a man so dull as her prospective husband. The widow -did not wear her heart on her sleeve, so that daws who wished to peck at -it found it well concealed behind an armor of raillery, cleverness, and -adroitness. Bradish, on the other hand, was so openly adoring that it -was impossible not to be touched by his beaming happiness. On the whole -the match was felt to be a suitable one, although Mrs. Neligage had no -money; and from the mingled pleasure of gossiping about the pair, and -nominally condemning the whole business on one ground or another, -society came to be positively enthusiastic over the marriage. - -The affairs of Jack Neligage might in time be influenced by his mother's -alliance with a man of wealth, but they were little changed at first. It -is true that by some subtile softening of the general heart at the -thought of matrimony in the concrete, as presented by the spectacle of -the loves of Mrs. Neligage and Bradish, his social world was moved to a -sort of toleration of the idea of his marrying Alice Endicott in spite -of his poverty. People not in the least responsible, who could not be -personally affected by such a match, began to wonder after all whether -there were not some way in which it might be arranged, and to condemn -Miss Wentstile for not making possible the union of two lovers so long -and so faithfully attached. Society delights in the romantic in other -people's families, and would have rolled as a sweet morsel under its -tongue an elopement on the part of Jack and Alice, or any other sort of -extravagant outcome. The marriage of his mother gave him a new -consequence both by keeping his affairs in the public mind and by -bringing about for him a connection with a man of money. - -Miss Wentstile was not of a character which was likely sensitively to -feel or easily to receive these beneficent public sentiments. She was a -woman who was entirely capable of originating her own emotions, a fact -which in itself distinguished her as a rarity among her sex. No human -being, however, can live in the world without being affected by the -opinions of the world; and it is probable that Miss Wentstile, with all -her independence, was more influenced by the thought of those about her -than could be at all apparent. - -Mrs. Neligage declared to Jack that she meant to be very civil to the -spinster. - -"She's a sort of cousin of Harry's, you know," she remarked; "and it -isn't good form not to be on good terms with the family till after -you're married." - -"But after the wedding," he responded with a lazy smile, "I suppose she -must look out." - -Mrs. Neligage looked at him, laughing, with half closed eyes. - -"I should think that after the marriage she would do well to remember -her place," was her reply. "I shall have saved her from the Count by -that time, too; and that will give her a lesson." - -But Providence spared Mrs. Neligage the task of taking the initiative in -the matter of the Count. One day in the latter part of April, just -before the annual flitting by which all truly patriotic Bostonians elude -the first of May and the assessors, the widow went to call on her -prospective relative. Miss Wentstile was at home in the drawing-room -with Alice and the Count. Tea had been brought in, and Alice was pouring -it. - -"I knew I should be just in time for tea," Mrs. Neligage declared -affably; "and your tea is always so delicious, Miss Wentstile." - -"How do you do, Louisa," was Miss Wentstile's greeting. "I wish you'd -let me know when you are at home. I wouldn't have called yesterday if -I'd supposed you didn't know enough to stay in to be congratulated." - -"I had to go out," Mrs. Neligage responded. "I was sorry not to see -you." - -"There was a horrid dog in the hall that barked at me," Miss Wentstile -continued. "You ought not to let your visitors be annoyed so." - -"It isn't my dog," the widow replied with unusual conciliation in her -manner. "It belongs to those Stearnses who have the apartment opposite." - -"I can't bear other people's dogs," Miss Wentstile declared with superb -frankness. "Fido was the only dog I ever loved." - -"Where is Fido?" asked the widow. "I haven't heard his voice yet." - -Miss Wentstile drew herself up stiffly. - -"I have met with a misfortune. I had to send dear Fido away. He would -bark at the Count." - -Whatever the intentions of Mrs. Neligage to conciliate, Providence had -not made her capable of resisting a temptation like this. - -"How interesting the instinct of animals is," she observed with an air -of the most perfect ingenuousness. "They seem to know doubtful -characters by intuition." - -"Doubtful characters?" echoed Miss Wentstile sharply. "Didn't Fido -always bark at you, Louisa?" - -"Yes," returned the caller as innocently as ever. "That is an -illustration of what I was saying." - -"Oh, Madame Neleegaze ees so continuously to be _drole_!" commented the -Count, with a display of his excellent teeth. "So she have to marry, ees -eet not?" - -"Do you mean those two sentences to go together, Count?" Alice asked, -with a twinkle of fun. - -He stood apparently trying to recall what he had said, in order to get -the full meaning of the question, when the servant announced Mrs. -Croydon, who came forward with a clashing of bead fringes and a rustling -of stiff silk. She was ornamented, hung, spangled, covered, cased in jet -until she might not inappropriately have been set bodily into a relief -map to represent Whitby. She advanced halfway across the space to where -Miss Wentstile sat near the hearth, and then stopped with a dramatic -air. She fixed her eyes on the Count, who, with his feet well apart, -stood near Miss Wentstile, stirring his tea, and diffusing abroad a -patronizing manner of ownership. - -"I beg your pardon, Miss Wentstile," Mrs. Croydon said in a voice a -little higher than common, "I will come to see you again when you -haven't an assassin in your house." - -There was an instant of utter silence. The remark was one well -calculated to produce a sensation, and had Mrs. Croydon been an actress -she might at that instant have congratulated herself that she held her -audience spellbound. It was but for a flash, however, that Miss -Wentstile was paralyzed. - -"What do you mean?" exclaimed the spinster, recovering the use of her -tongue. - -"I mean," retorted Mrs. Croydon, extending her bugle-dripping arm -theatrically, and pointing to the Count, "that man there." - -"Me!" cried the Count. - -"The Count?" cried Miss Wentstile an octave higher. - -"Ah!" murmured Mrs. Neligage very softly, settling herself more -comfortably in her chair. - -"He tried to murder my husband," went on Mrs. Croydon, every moment with -more of the air of a stage-struck amateur. "He challenged him!" - -"Your husband?" the Count returned. "Eet ees to me thees teeme first -know what you have one husband, madame." - -"I thought your husband was dead, Mrs. Croydon," Miss Wentstile -observed, in a voice which was like the opening of an outside door with -the mercury below zero. - -Mrs. Croydon was visibly confused. Her full cheeks reddened; even the -tip of her nose showed signs of a tendency to blush. Her trimmings -rattled and scratched on the silk of her gown. - -"I should have said Mr. Barnstable," she corrected. "He was my husband -once when I lived in Chicago." - -The Count, perfectly self-possessed, smiled and stirred his tea. - -"Ees eet dat de amiable Mrs. Croydon she do have a deeferent husband -leek a sailor mans een all de harbors?" he asked with much deference. - -Mrs. Neligage laughed softly, leaning back as if at a comedy. Alice -looked a little frightened. Miss Wentstile became each moment more -stern. - -"Mr. Barnstable and I are to be remarried immediately," Mrs. Croydon -observed with dignity. "It was for protecting me from the abuse of an -anonymous novel that he offended you. You would have killed him for -defending me." - -The Count waved his teaspoon airily. - -"He have eensult me," he remarked, as if disposing of the whole subject. -"Then he was one great cowherd. He have epilogued me most abject." - -Mrs. Neligage elevated her eyebrows, and turned her glance to Mrs. -Croydon, who stood, a much overdressed goddess of discord, still in the -middle of the floor. - -"That is nonsense, Mrs. Croydon," she observed honeyedly. "Mr. -Barnstable behaved with plenty of pluck. The apology was Jack's doing, -and wasn't at all to your--your _fiance's_ discredit." - -Miss Wentstile turned with sudden severity to Mrs. Neligage. - -"Louisa," she demanded, "do you know anything about this affair?" - -"Of course," was the easy answer. "Everybody in Boston knew it but you." - -The Count put his teacup on the mantelpiece. He had lost the jauntiness -of his air, but he was still dignified. - -"Eet was one _affaire d'honneur_," he said. - -"But why was I not told of this?" Miss Wentstile asked sharply. - -"You?" Mrs. Croydon retorted with excitement. "Everybody supposed--" - -Mrs. Neligage rose quickly. - -"Really," she said, interrupting the speaker, "I must have another cup -of tea." - -The interruption stopped Mrs. Croydon's remark, and Miss Wentstile did -not press for its conclusion. - -"Count," the spinster asked, turning to that gentleman, who towered -above her tall and lowering, "have you ever fought a duel?" - -The Count shrugged his shoulders. - -"All Shimbowski ees _hommes d'honneur_." - -She made him a frigid bow. - -"I have the honor to bid you good day," she said, with a manner so -perfect that the absurdity of the situation vanished. - -The Count drew himself up proudly. Then he in his turn bowed profoundly. - -"You do eet too much to me honor," he said, with a dignity which was -worthy of his family. "Ladies, _votre serviteur_." - -He made his exit in a manner to be admired. Mrs. Croydon feigned to -shrink aside as he passed her, but Mrs. Neligage looked at her with so -open a laugh at this performance that confusion overcame the dame of -bugles, and she moved forward disconcerted. She had not yet gained a -seat, when Miss Wentstile faced her with all her most unrestrained -fashion. - -"I shouldn't think, Mrs. Croydon, that you, with the stain of a divorce -court on you, were in position to throw stones at Count Shimbowski. He -has done nothing but follow the customs to which he's been brought up." - -"Perhaps that's true of Mrs. Croydon too," murmured Mrs. Neligage to -Alice. - -"If you wanted to tell me," Miss Wentstile went on, "why didn't you tell -me when he was not here? No wonder foreigners think we are barbarians -when a nobleman is insulted like that." - -"I didn't mean to tell you," Mrs. Croydon stammered humbly. "It just -came out." - -"Why didn't you mean to tell me?" demanded Miss Wentstile, whose anger -had evidently deprived her for the time being of all coolness. - -"Why, I thought you were engaged to him!" blurted out Mrs. Croydon, -fairly crimson from brow to chin. - -"Engaged!" echoed Miss Wentstile, half breathless with indignation. - -Mrs. Neligage came to the rescue, cool and collected, entirely mistress -of herself and of the situation. - -"Really, Mrs. Croydon," she suggested, smiling, "don't you think that is -bringing Western brusqueness home to us in rather a startling way? We -don't speak of engagements until they are announced, you know." - -"But Miss Wentstile told me the other day that she might announce one -soon," persisted Mrs. Croydon, into whose flushed face had come a look -of baffled obstinacy. - -Mrs. Neligage threw up her hands in a graceful little gesture. She -played private theatricals infinitely better than Mrs. Croydon. There -was in their art all the difference between the work of the most clumsy -amateur and a polished professional. - -"There is nothing to do but to tell it," she said, as if appealing to -Miss Wentstile and Alice. "The engagement was that of Miss Endicott and -my son. Miss Wentstile never for a moment thought of marrying the Count. -She knew from me that he gambled and was a famous duelist." - -Alice put out her hand suddenly, and caught that of the widow. - -"Oh, Mrs. Neligage!" she cried. - -The widow patted the girl's fingers. The face of Miss Wentstile was a -study for a novelist who identifies art with psychology. - -"Of course I ought not to have told, Alice," Mrs. Neligage went on; "but -I'm sure Mrs. Croydon is to be trusted. It isn't fair to your aunt that -this nonsensical notion should be abroad that she meant to marry the -Count." - -Mrs. Croydon was evidently too bewildered to understand what had taken -place. She awkwardly congratulated Alice, apologized to Miss Wentstile -for having made a scene, and somehow got herself out of the way. - -"What an absolutely incredible woman! With the talent both she and Mr. -Barnstable show for kicking up rows in society," observed Mrs. Neligage, -as soon as the caller had departed, "I should think they would prevent -any city from being dull. I trust they will pass the time till their -next divorce somewhere else than here." - - - - -XXVIII - -THE UNCLOUDING OF LOVE - - -Miss Wentstile sat grimly silent until they heard the outer door -downstairs close behind the departing guest. Then she straightened -herself up. - -"I thank you, Louisa," she said gravely; "you meant well, but how dared -you?" - -"Oh, I had to dare," returned Mrs. Neligage lightly. "I'm coming into -the family, you know, and must help keep up its credit." - -"Humph!" was the not entirely complimentary rejoinder. "If you cared for -the credit of the family why didn't you tell me about the Count sooner? -Is he really a fast man?" - -"He's been one of the best known sports in Europe, my dear Miss -Wentstile." - -"Why didn't you tell me then?" - -"Why should I? I wasn't engaged to Harry then, and if the Count wanted -to reform and settle down, you wouldn't have had me thwart so virtuous -an inclination, would you?" - -"I thought you wanted him to marry Alice!" - -"I only wanted Alice out of the way of Jack," the widow confessed -candidly. - -"Why?" Miss Wentstile asked. - -The spinster was fond of frankness, and appreciated it when it came in -her way. - -"Because I hated to have Jack poor, and I knew that if Alice married him -you'd never give them a cent to live on." - -Alice, her face full of confusion and pain, moved uneasily, and put her -hand on the arm of Mrs. Neligage once more, as if to stop her. The widow -again patted the small hand reassuringly, but kept her eyes fixed full -on those of the aunt. - -"You took a different turn to-day," the spinster observed suspiciously. - -"I had to save you to-day," was the ready answer; "and besides I can't -do anything with Jack. He's bound to marry Alice whether you and I like -it or not, and he's going to work in a bank in the most stupid manner." - -To hear the careless tone in which this was said nobody could have -suspected that this speech was exactly the one which could most surely -move the spinster, and that the astute widow must have been fully aware -of it. - -"So you are sure I won't give Alice anything if she marries Jack, are -you?" Miss Wentstile said. "Well, Alice, you are to marry Jack Neligage -to save me from the gossips." - -"It seems to me," Alice said, blushing very much, "that if I can't have -any voice in the matter, Jack might be considered." - -"Oh, my dear," returned Mrs. Neligage quickly, "do you suppose that if I -made an alliance for Jack, he would be so undutiful as to object?" - -Alice burst into a laugh, but Miss Wentstile, upon whom, in her -ignorance of the engagement between Jack and May, the point was lost, -let it pass unheeded. - -"Well," she said, "I think I'll surprise you for once, Louisa. If Jack -will stick faithfully to his place in the bank for a year, I'll give him -and Alice the _dot_ I promised the Count." - -Mrs. Neligage got away from Miss Wentstile's as soon as possible, -leaving Alice to settle things with her aunt, and taking a carriage at -the next corner, drove to Jack's lodgings. She burst into his room -tumultuously, fortunately finding him at home, and alone. - -"Oh, Jack," she cried, "I didn't mean to, but I've engaged you again!" - -He regarded her with a quizzical smile. - -"Matchmaking seems to be a vice which develops with your age," he -observed. "I got out of the other scrape easily enough, and I won't deny -that it was rather good fun. I hope that this isn't any worse." - -"But, Jack, dear, this time it's Alice!" - -"Alice!" he exclaimed, jumping up quickly. - -"Yes, it's Alice, and you ought to be grateful to me, for she's going to -have a fortune, too." - -With some incoherency, for she was less self-contained than usual, Mrs. -Neligage told him what had happened. - -"See what it is to have a mother devoted to your interests," she -concluded. "You'd never have brought Miss Wentstile to terms. You ought -to adore me for this." - -"I do," he answered, laughing, but kissing her with genuine affection. -"I hope you'll be as happy as Alice and I shall be." - -"I only live for my child," returned she in gay mockery. "For your sake -I'm going to be respectable for the rest of my life. What sacrifices we -parents do make for our children!" - - * * * * * - -Late that evening Jack was taking his somewhat extended adieus of Alice. - -"After all, Jack," she said, "the whole thing has come out of the novel. -We'll have a gorgeously bound copy of 'Love in a Cloud' always on the -table to remind us--" - -"To remind us," he finished, taking the words out of her mouth with a -laugh, "that our love has got out of the clouds." - - * * * * * - - The Riverside Press - PRINTED BY H. O. HOUGHTON & CO. - CAMBRIDGE, MASS. - U.S.A. - - * * * * * - -Books by Arlo Bates. - - -LOVE IN A CLOUD. A Novel. - -THE PURITANS. A Novel. - -THE PHILISTINES. A Novel. - -THE PAGANS. A Novel. - -PATTY'S PERVERSITIES. A Novel. - -PRINCE VANCE. The Story of a Prince with a Court in his Box. By ARLO -BATES and ELEANOR PUTNAM. - -A LAD'S LOVE. - -UNDER THE BEECH-TREE. Poems. - -TALKS ON WRITING ENGLISH. - -TALKS ON THE STUDY OF LITERATURE. - - - HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. - BOSTON AND NEW YORK. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE IN A CLOUD*** - - -******* This file should be named 42831.txt or 42831.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/2/8/3/42831 - - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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